Miss No One, Mark Ayre [romantic love story reading .TXT] 📗

on your door because I'll be telling Kilman everything about last night and about what you've revealed this afternoon."

"I don't have a door," said Abbie, blocking Christine again, "and if you expect to become a top-quality police detective, you'll have to get better at knowing people, at understanding how they might react to every possible situation."

Christine flushed with anger. "You don't know what kind of detective I am. How dare you pass judgement on my quality when you've known me five minutes."

"I know you're honourable, and you think that honour will translate to respect. You know people loved Hammond, and you accept they'll be upset, possibly angry when you reveal to them whatever evidence you've gathered about their recently deceased hero. Your mistake is believing they'll have the strength to put these emotions aside, thus enabling them to act rationally on the information. This’s stupid. I only hope stupidity hasn't morphed into a level of delusion that has allowed you to believe your colleagues will thank you for your candour and bravery. They won’t.”

"I don't have to listen to this."

Growing angrier by the minute, Christine barged past Abbie, shoving her aside and storming on down the street.

Abbie followed, speeding up but this time falling in alongside the detective rather than trying to overtake her.

"You were sent here under false pretences," Abbie said. "You think, when your colleagues learn the truth, they'll feel betrayed but will overcome that betrayal. But that's the thing. Most people can overcome and forgive betrayal. They have a much harder time forgiving people they believe have made them look a fool. That's how they'll view you. They'll feel stupid for believing you, and they'll lash out."

"I never intended to make a fool of anyone."

"And that won't matter. They’ll vilify you. It won't help that you're accusing their respected and recently deceased colleague of wrongdoing. They'll paint you as a bad cop. They'll make you look incompetent, and you know what that'll mean about what you show them, don't you?"

Christine said nothing, but she faltered, slowed. They continued to grow closer to the station, but all of a sudden, Christine didn't seem to be in such a hurry to get there.

"Kilman and the rest will disregard the evidence you've gathered," said Abbie. "They'll tell you Hammond was an exceptional officer. They'll say if it seemed he was breaking the law, it was only because he wanted you to believe he was breaking the law. They'll protect their hero and destroy the interloper. Which is you, by the way. Because that's what people do."

Christine was shaking her head while further losing speed in her onward progression.

"it doesn't matter," she said. She seemed to be forcing the words. "You don't understand. I knew there was something going on and you’re right, Isabella might be involved. I thought I could handle this alone, but I can’t. I need help.”

“Then let me help you.”

“No. Proper help. Professional help, and that means taking a risk. Kilman and the rest might hate me for the rest of their lives. I don’t care, so long as they act on what I tell them.”

Abbie put a hand on Christine's arm. There was no pressure, but Christine came to a halt.

Before Abbie could try again to persuade the younger woman to change her plan, Christine continued.

“I could lose everything over this, but nothing matters more than saving that little girl."

"Finally, something on which we agree," said Abbie, still holding Christine's arm. "Isabella has to come first, but I don’t think your plan is the best way to save her. And not only because they won't listen to you."

"Then why?"

"For a start, what if Hammond wasn't working alone?"

Christine opened her mouth to respond, then stopped herself. She looked at the floor, but that was okay. Abbie had already seen it in her eyes. Hammond was the big fish in terms of corrupt officers, but Christine either knew or suspected there were other bad eggs in the basket.

"It's not only your career you're putting on the line, then," Abbie said. "Two people are dead. A child has been kidnapped, and you want to put yourself in the firing line?”

"I don't want to do anything," Christine snapped back. "This isn't about desire; it's about necessity. I became a police officer to help people, and that's damn sure what I'm going to do."

She yanked her arm back, though Abbie was holding on only by the lightest of touches. Christine stumbled backwards as the two women parted. Steadied herself. Turned from Abbie to hide the tears in her eyes. Now she faced determinedly towards the station.

Frozen on the pavement, she began building up the strength to move again.

"I believe," said Abbie, her voice soft but carrying, "there's a way for us to work together to save Isabella without you walking into that police station and making yourself a target. If you'd just spend a little more time talking it over with me..."

"No," said Christine. "My mind's made up."

She took a breath. She was ready to walk. Abbie could see the younger woman slipping away and knew now there was nothing more she could do to persuade Christine to stick around.

But she wanted to do something, and she had a little more to offer.

"Last summer," she said, "I came across a group known as the Becker Gang. Run by a woman named Margaret Becker and her three children, the group was known to the police. They were responsible for numerous armed robberies across the country, plus multiple counts of assault and murder and other violent crimes. They were violent and vile people."

Christine looked back. "Is this relevant?"

"An associate of the Becker's betrayed them to the police," Abbie continued. "Following a raid, many Becker gang members were arrested and imprisoned, including Margaret's daughter, Rachel. During the same raid, Margaret's youngest child was shot and killed, and the woman herself died shortly thereafter. These actions seemed to put an end to the gang's activities. But Margaret’s eldest son survived and escaped incarceration. He’s been