Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Charlie Brooks pushed into the incident room, keen to start the day on the front foot. She'd arrived home late last night, enduring a few broken hours' sleep before rising to greet her girls. Despite some recriminations about missing last night's bedtime, Orla and Jessica nevertheless raised her spirits with their ebullience and humour, so having dropped them off at school, Charlie had headed to Southampton Central full of purpose and resolve, determined to seize the day.

Marching to her desk, Charlie became aware that most of the team were already in. Punctuality and professionalism were things that Helen insisted upon and Charlie was pleased to see her officers gathered in anticipation of another busy day. Surveying the early morning scene, Charlie noted that most of the team were gathered around DC Paul Jennings' desk, laughing and bantering over coffee. Camaraderie was to be applauded, good morale a prerequisite for a healthy, productive unit, but eyeing the group of male officers, Charlie suddenly realized that no one had turned to greet her. In fact, none of them appeared to have noticed that a senior officer had entered the room.

Frowning, Charlie abandoned her desk, making her way over. As she approached, she immediately picked up Jennings' strident voice.

‘I don't want to say it was a foregone conclusion, but Alpha Boy just couldn't handle the Big Dog. And he lost his shirt because of it …'

Jennings broke into a deep, indulgent laugh, several colleagues joining in. But their mirth quickly subsided as they spotted Charlie approaching, several swallowing their smiles as they turned to her, sober, respectful and professional.

‘What have I missed?' Charlie said brightly.

Nobody spoke in response. DC Jennings suddenly looked discomfited, the rest of his posse awkward.

‘Something's obviously tickled you?' Charlie continued, wondering why she was bothering.

‘It's nothing really, boss …' Jennings finally offered. ‘Just that … that I won a bit of cash in a poker game on Wednesday night with a few of the lads … with some colleagues.'

Charlie noted his last-minute correction, an attempt to make his night out sound less exclusive. Irked by this clumsy clawback, Charlie replied, ‘That's funny. I didn't hear about it. Is this a regular game or …?'

Now the junior officer really did look awkward.

‘Now and again, you know. It's not a formal thing, just something we do from time to time down at the police social club at St Mary's.'

‘Can anyone join in?'

Jennings forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

‘Of course. If you're interested, we could always make room at the table …?'

Jennings was straining every sinew to appear welcoming, but the way his colleagues were staring at their feet signalled that they felt his discomfort too. Charlie let his question hang in the air for a moment, before deciding to put him out of his misery.

‘Actually, you're all right. I don't know the first thing about poker.'

Charlie saw it straight away. A flash of anger in his expression as Jennings realized she'd been riding him, followed swiftly by a look of relief.

‘Right, then,' she continued brightly. ‘Let's gather round the board and get this thing started.'

Running a hand through his hair, Jennings tried to shake off his discomfort, following the rest of the team to the centre of the room. Reaching the murder board, Charlie turned to the assembled officers, speaking up loudly as she commenced the morning briefing.

‘Right then, let's pull together what we've got. The media have had a field day with last night's shooting and you can be sure the new station chief will want to see progress today. So, let's start with known associates. DC Wilson, could you kick us off?'

The junior officer duly obliged and one by one the team members added their findings to the pool of knowledge. Charlie listened intently, writing up the leads on the board and challenging them where necessary. All the while, however, her mind continued to turn on the dynamic of the group. Despite her fun at Jennings' expense, or perhaps because of it, she remained unsettled and disquieted. There was something ‘off' about it, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, which made her feel uncomfortable in a unit, in an incident room, that she'd happily inhabited for years. This had been her home from home, the scene of some of her happiest times and most difficult days. Only Helen knew the fabric of this place, the rhythm of the Major Incident Team, better than her, and yet for all that, Charlie felt the odd one out here, neither accepted or wanted. Sometimes she thought she must be imagining it, but today that same feeling struck home with force.

She had been here longer, way longer than any of the officers in front of her. So why did she so often feel like an outsider?