Read Skin for Free Online Page B

Wellard hose her down with bleach solution, that she noticed someone else.
    He was just outside the cordon, holding a can of Red Bull. Medium height, lean. Dark hair cut short. Maybe nine or ten years older than her. DI Jack Caffery. MCIU. The last time she’d seen him, on Tuesday, they’d been making an arrest together. That day something had passed between them. She knew it, and she wondered if they were ever going to talk about it. She watched him carefully as he ducked under the outer cordon, using the CSI’s aluminium tread plates to cross towards her. He wasn’t limping like she’d thought he’d be.
    ‘OK, Wellard. That’s enough.’ She pulled off her hood, undid the storm zip on her suit, then peeled it down, pulled her hands out so the gauntlets were left inside the sleeves and stepped free of it. Without lacing her trainers, she jammed her heels down against the backs of them, and clomped across the car park. She stopped a few yards away from Caffery.
    ‘Hey,’ he said, taking her in from head to toe. She knew what he was thinking. The mosh-pit hairdo, the trousers sticking to her. The grey T-shirt glued tight with sweat. ‘How’re you doing?’
    ‘Fine. You?’
    ‘Yes. Nice to see you without an ASP in your hand.’
    ‘Nice to see you on two feet. Not on the floor.’
    ‘Bad, wasn’t it?’
    ‘Not your finest hour, I s’pose. Or mine. I still don’t know what axe they’re going to drop on my head. Keep getting memos from Occupational Health telling me I’m due for a free critical debrief, y’know. For the trauma. I haven’t taken it yet.’
    ‘Me neither.’
    ‘I was going to call you. I wanted to say sorry.’
    ‘Sorry about what?’
    ‘About that.’ She gestured to his leg. ‘About your ankle. About what I did. I didn’t mean to give you grief.’
    He glanced down at his feet and gave the trouser leg a quick shake. To stop him savaging the piece of shit they’d been trying to arrest on Operation Norway she’d used her support unit stainless-steel ASP on Caffery’s anklebone. It’d been the only way she could bring him to his senses.
    ‘You’re not limping. I thought you might be.’
    ‘No. Not limping.’
    ‘I didn’t tell anyone. About what you did.’
    ‘I gathered. No rubber-heelers on my doorstep.’
    ‘Half of me regrets stopping you. I might’ve liked to have seen him with his head split open.’
    ‘Nice.’
    She shrugged. ‘Honest.’
    ‘Thank you. For not saying anything.’ He looked at her for a long time. And then, just when she was about to speak again, he glanced at her breasts. Only for a split second. But it was enough.
    ‘I saw that.’
    ‘Couldn’t help myself. Sorry.’
    ‘You’re my senior officer. You’re not supposed to look at me like that. It’s demeaning.’
    There was a pause. Then he raised an eyebrow. ‘Mmm. Is this the overture to an industrial tribunal? Sexual harassment?’
    She stopped herself smiling. Suddenly she felt light and easy, as if she’d just woken up from a long sleep. ‘Is that why you’re here? To see if you can get a grievance accusation? Is that the sort of frathouse-initiation thing they get up to in MCIU now?’
    ‘Frathouse initiation?’ He half smiled. ‘No. Sorry.’ He pointed at the coroner’s van. The door stood open. Inside was the bright orange blur of Mahoney’s body on the stretcher. ‘I’m here about her. Have you signed her over yet?’
    ‘They’re doing the paperwork now.’
    ‘Got any spare respirators?’
    ‘Sure. I’ve always got a couple spare to stop the CSI guys vomming. Why?’
    ‘I’d like to see her before the coroners take her.’
    ‘I thought it was District’s case?’
    ‘It is. I’m not really here. I’m just being nosy.’
    She raised an eyebrow. ‘Hmm. One body. Female, but fully clothed. Knickers on, skirt not pulled up or disturbed. A bottle of pills next to her, a suicide note. I pulled out of the gunk a Stanley knife she’d used to cut her wrists. Sounds to