The Devil Among Us

by Ramsay Sinclair

  “You two weren’t to know. You can’t blame yourselves.” She leaned against the countertop, arms folded flat across her voluptuous chest. “Kirsty, they’re out there to get you too.”

  “They’re out to stop anyone who gets remotely close,” I gently reminded the pair, earning a tut of impatience from Abbey. I wasn't helping her tactically compassionate approach.

  “Ryan said all you needed to know about these people is on the tape,” Abbey continued, setting the cloth aside. “So why haven’t you seen it yet?”

  I let her hug me comfortingly, whether for my sake or hers, none of us could tell. After baking a cake that nobody had yet dug into, buttercream resided on her cheek and had smudged there whenever she’d forgotten to clean her hands.

  “Ryan said it’s too dangerous, and he’s right. Anyone could have seen me at the office. I also didn’t want to watch it alone…” I trailed off sheepishly, earning a consoling peck from my girlfriend and a pity nod from McCall. As tempting as it was to find out, I also had a heart. McCall deserved to know everything too.

  “But watching it’ll put us all top of the hit list,” McCall remarked. “Again. Abbey, you don’t have to--”

  “These people are after you both. You’re my friend and Finlay is… Finlay.” The struggle to classify us in a single word didn’t offend me. I knew what she meant without needing to hear the correct terms. “I’m involved in this too, whether we like it or not. Don’t push me away,” she begged softly. “If I have to watch my back too, I want to know who I’m watching out for.”

  Abbey was a grown adult. I couldn’t sway her mind once it was made up. She had a stubborn streak, but boy, was it tantalising.

  “If we’re all sure.” I dodged the question and showed them with my actions instead that we were all in this together. “After watching this, we can’t go back. We’ll know something we didn’t before, and that means we’ll be potentially endangered.”

  The final decision was a firm one, and we all shared a terse nod.

  “Or…” I gave them a chance to drop out. A test of our strength and willingness to pursue this case to the end. “We can forget and let the case be sidelined like all the other stations have.”

  “They’ve destroyed everything already.” McCall hugged a fluffy cushion for support. She almost blended in with the couch, morphing into the furniture from spending too many hours hunched there and wallowing. “I’m in.”

  “Me too,” Abbey confirmed grimly, and a smudge of red lipstick accidentally transferred onto my starched shirt collar.

  “Then I guess it’s decided.” I set up the laptop, waiting in agony as it took ages to whirr to life. It was almost a resurrection for the crappy piece of technology, having been stored and tucked away for a few months. We even had to wipe off the thick layer of dust that coated the screen.

  My hands were fumbling as I slotted the converted DVD into the laptop. Abbey gripped onto them, acting as a steady grip. Eventually, the tape began to play, and we sat in a deathly silence to watch. The different angles gave a wide scope of the station, from the outer yard to the front desk.

  “This was taken the day we first visited Flynn at the hospital,” McCall murmured what I had already recognized.

  Due to the time of the morning, there were very few officers roaming around the station itself, a certain banality to the tasks they were performing. It was too early for the day shifts to start and for the night shifts to finish. It was the midway point of the night. Abbey and I would’ve still been fast asleep on this very couch at that early hour.

  Black and white footage showed repetitive and continual dribbles of officers passing the reception area to take a bathroom break, or catch up with a mate of theirs that worked on a separate team.

  “Spot anything?” I came across as maffled.

  “Not yet,” McCall squinted, situating herself even closer to the screen.

  “You’ll be inside the laptop if you move any closer,” I grumbled tensely and shuffled. The laptop bounced on my knees. We weren’t the most sophisticated bunch of detectives. After all, this was Dalgety Bay, not MI5. The agents stationed in London were given a bunch of favouritism when it came to wages, in that they got paid a lot more than us.

  Abbey pointed to the angle that showcased the yard view. “What’s that van used for? It looks dirty.”

  Her impatient prodding left a fingermark on the screen. The large, beaten up van she referred to was the evidence van detained from the drug bust.

  “That’s the van that was used to transport the drugs through the bay. It’s what we caught Flynn, Robin and Sam cooped up in before the shootings happened.”

  The answer seemed to satisfy and occupy her for a few minutes before she spoke up again.

  “I don’t understand why this video was so important. There are just people wandering around. Are you sure it’s not a decoy? To throw you off the trail?”

  I reminded myself that she wasn’t used to our job, that she didn’t possess the same qualities we at CID did. “Patience, love.”

  Ryan was too worked up earlier to have been lying.

  Our turquoise, scuffed evidence van was parked there by itself. Mainly alone in the car park, besides a few sparsely positioned cars. Most of the police vehicles were out on call. McCall stayed transfixed to the pixelated screen, blue eyes flickering over every angle available to us.

  “The drugs are still in the van here, right?” she checked, gripping the pillow and getting fluff all over her pyjamas.

  “I presume so. They weren’t sent off until the forensic reports came back, sometime during our visit with Flynn.” I shrugged, watching the CCTV tape studiously and burned my eyes when I forgot to blink.

  McCall sidled up to me and drummed upon her thighs impatiently. “Maybe Abbey's right. There’s footage, but nothing important. Maybe Ryan wasn’t being truthful?”

  “No, you didn’t see him.” The image of Ryan freaked out in my office earlier, spurred me on and fired up my willpower to sit through the recording. “Let’s just wait and see.” In reality, my heartbeat was threatening to burst from my ribcage, like that famous scene in Alien.

  “Tea?” Abbey suddenly wondered, starting to irritate me.

  “No,” I barked irately.

  McCall shook her head, wordlessly telling me that I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t need anyone to tell me, I already felt guilty the second I snapped.

  “Sorry,” I meekly altered. “I’m just very stressed. Two sugars, please?”

  Abbey nodded abidingly. “I just thought you guys liked tea when you’re working.” It made me feel worse knowing she was only trying to make us comfortable.

  “We do,” McCall allowed her to make a fuss.

  Abbey was that way inclined, a feeder and a caring person. It helped her conscience to know she was making others secure and happy. As she docilely scuttered to pour, the security footage played on. We avidly viewed the camera angles, it didn’t take much longer until McCall stopped something and stabbed the screen.

  “There’s DCI Reid,” she mumbled instinctively. He was shown pacing through the reception area on camera one, checking the gold wristwatch he always wore. “He’s in early.”

  Squinting to see better, I didn’t disagree. “Very early. We did have a heavy workload from both the shootings and the press.”

  He disappeared from sight on camera one and reappeared seconds later on camera two. I expected to see him lighting up a cigarette or cigar even, but instead, he stayed put in the station yard and rocked on his heels for a while. His inscrutable countenance made it hard to tell exactly what DCI Reid was doing.

  “It seems like he’s waiting for something.” McCall finally figured out. From the high angle of the CCTV tape, we noticed a bald spot on DCI Reid’s greying hair.

  “Tell me mine isn’t like that,” I groaned and earned a muted giggle. It felt wrong to laugh at that particular instance. In the background, our mugs clinked. “If he’s waiting for our team, he
’ll be waiting a long time. None of us were rostered in for another few hours.”

  McCall’s puckered smile thanked Abbey for the steaming tea and slice of cake. “Even then, we were called to meet at the hospital instead.”

  Placing the laptop atop the coffee table since my legs were going numb, I could accept the mug handle outstretched towards me. It was a white flag gesture, to let me know that my outburst was forgiven.

  “Thanks,” I batted my eyelashes towards her pretty face. Abbey just pulled up a dining chair, dragging the legs across the laminate flooring, and situated herself next to the coffee table to catch up on what she’d missed.

  Whilst I was busy blowing the steam away from the tea, McCall crucially tapped my bicep. The action knocked the mug and nearly sent hot tea burning my hands.

  “Okay!” I scoffed but realised what had gotten her in such a frenzy.

  In the station yard, another van had pulled up in front of DCI Reid. The logo graphics on the side of the second white van were that of the decorating company.

  “They’re keen,” Abbey sniffed, rubbing her prominent nose with a kleenex.

  That they were. None of the decorators I knew arrived partway through the early morning to complete some painting. Two men in overalls hopped out of their white van, shiftily peering around.

  McCall turned to face me, creases showing between her eyebrows. “They’re the guys who redid our office. The ones who hassled Rebecca for tea.”

  “Joined by that guy,” I pointed towards a third, burly one coming to join them. “Him and DCI Reid were exchanging heated words in his office before I found them.”

  “They’re discussing something there, and they still don’t seem very chilled out.” Abbey shrugged at the group of them debating with DCI Reid. I’d know that stance of DCI Reid’s anywhere. It was one he subconsciously used whenever he was being confronted.

  “Money,” I stated grimly.

  “Money?” the redheads repeated, acting as two parrots for the afternoon.

  “The superintendent sat with DC Taylor and me for lunch,” I barely paused, hoping to cut McCall off before she complained about the injustice and favouritism of that. “Apparently, DCI Reid paid for the decorating solely out of his own money, because the station’s funding wouldn’t cover it.”

  McCall was taken aback. “That’s… unusual. No wonder he’s pissed if these guys were trying to wrangle extra pennies out of him. Some tradesmen botch the job on purpose and leave you to fork out twice the agreed amount.”

  After a short while, their tense discussion seemingly diffused, and DCI Reid scanned the yard. Seemingly satisfied by the sight they were greeted with, he dug out a set of keys. They shone and glinted on the footage, attracting our gaze.

  “Keys?” Abbey stated what she saw quizzically. We didn’t have to wait to see what they opened, as the three decorators trekked over to our own drug-laden van. With the aid of the keys, it didn’t take long for them to fling the double back doors open and reveal the huge stacks of cocaine.

  DCI Reid kept a lookout on the station yard, which had begun to filter with streaks of light from the Scottish sunrise. One man in overalls picked up a bundle of cocaine from the evidence stash and moved as fast as lightning to bundle it into their own. The rest joined in, making quick work of the seized drugs.

  “I guess our drugs weren’t destroyed in the end.” McCall spluttered, flabbergasted and unsure of what else to say. I could barely manage a pip, for my entire body felt as numb as my legs were.

  Abbey’s delicate features were screwed up, trying to be positive for our sake. “You both said it yourselves, people are being threatened.”

  The decorators on our recording had finished their frantic swap, leaving our evidence van stark empty. They handed DCI Reid back the keys and hopped into their now cocaine stashed vehicle. DCI Reid initiated a handshake with the burly guy who he was speaking to in his office prior to this recording. It wasn’t a quick handshake either, but a firm and purposeful one. The decorating men exited sharpish and left DCI Reid behind in a trail of smoke. He wiped his shoulders down and turned towards the station. That’s when I noticed it.

  The satisfied smirk on his lips.

  DCI Reid had known all along that this was a setup. Not only had he invited and dealt with the criminals, but he’d lied to all of us about his significant role. They had blood on their hands, innocent blood.

  “The handshake didn’t look like a man who’s being threatened. It seems to me that this is the payment for all of them,” McCall input mildly, shocked to the core. I needed a minute to digest the sight we were faced with.

  There was no mistake, nor misinterpretation. DCI Reid was there, plain as day. His presence in the exchange was irrefutable. It was there in black and white, quite literally. All of us were stunned and carried on staring at the blank screen long after the tape had finished.

  “That’s how they were able to sneak in so easily. By disguising themselves,” Abbey elaborated, on edge, and waiting for a reaction that was bound to come from me sooner or later. “Well, what do you do now? Arrest him? You’ve got video evidence showing that he’s double-crossed the station.”

  “Video evidence that will endanger Ryan’s life. We can’t just flash this footage willy nilly, for we don’t have any clue who the three men were. If this tape was used to arrest DCI Reid, there are still three guys out there who could carry out the threats.” McCall stressfully hid her head in her hands, trying to calculate our next step from here. “My prints. DCI Reid offered me a drink when he found out I'd visited Flynn on my own. The glass would be a perfect transfer.”

  “He knew the decorators, or criminals, or whatever we should call them, would want to cover those tracks.” Abbey was piecing it together bit by bit, catching up with the consequence a bent DCI had on us. “Therefore, they had to frame you too.”

  “Meanwhile, whilst we’ve been investigating false leads, the drugs have probably already been sold on. Everything was one big diversion. Me, Flynn, the shooting,” McCall concurred, cheeks reddening in shock. “We were a part of the operation on our own soil. It was an easy exchange, or at least it would’ve been, had Ryan destroyed the tape as he was instructed to.”

  Abbey’s almond eyes widened at the lucky break we’d had stumbling across the footage. “Thank God for the rebels out there.”

  McCall linked the separate fragments of our case together, all the sources we’d searched and intelligence we’d acquired. “Michael said it was a hefty payout with a richer clientele. DCI Reid isn’t exactly poor, he would’ve known sources in desperate need of a cocaine supply and altered the prices to fit.”

  “So what’ll happen to this tape now?” Abbey sought answers, fiddling skittishly with her jacket lapel. Both women continued their hypothesis of the situation we’d been caught in, leaving the fury to mount inside of my stomach and rise until it bubbled over. A slow-burning, boiling hot vat of rage built up inside, as I struggled to conceive what I was feeling. I wasn’t sure if I was upset, faint or completely vexed.

  Something snapped within when I grabbed the tape from the slot and stamped it to pieces with the underside of my shoe. Shards scattered and showered across the laminate, missing Abbey’s legs by mere inches.

  “We do what they want by destroying the tape. We play the same games he’s played with us, by making him believe he’s won. Then… I’ll take them down my own way.”

  McCall recognised the savage glint behind my scowl. “This isn't a game of revenge, Finlay.”

  “Isn’t it?” I shot back maliciously, misdirecting the outrage and injustice towards DCI Reid at the people I cared for. “He’s lied to all of us. We’ve been working to uncover this, whilst he’s been muddying the tracks as soon as we do.”

  McCall got to her own feet, that familiar cross look starting to show. The one where her nostrils flared and tiny forehead wrinkled. “He stared me in the face and said suspension was for my own good. I want revenge as much as the nex
t guy, but I refuse to let you run in there and mess things up. We plan, and we catch them properly. Logically.”

  I could hear the faith in our skills and the determination in her voice. Slowly, I calmed down and followed the breathing exercises Abbey shared with me to help with that, the art of breathing in and out composedly.

  “Fine,” I could finally speak without hissing. “I’ll get closer to DCI Reid and wrangle the truth from him. I need to make sure he trusts me enough that something crucial will spill.”

  “You’re playing with fire,” my work partner informed me, though she wasn’t pitting us against the idea. Just ensuring we were aware of the jeopardy to our careers going against DCI Reid could pose.

  “McCall’s right,” Abbey acknowledged, and her lashes, thickly coated in mascara, batted. “It’s too dangerous to do it alone. You said so yourself, these people are everywhere, like cockroaches.”

  “I don’t care,” I stubbornly argued for that was the last thing on my mind. “If DCI Reid was behind all of this, he’s got blood on his hands.”

  McCall stepped forward and located some paper from the stash kept in a cupboard. “Then how are we going to do this?” She paused, pen poised above the clean sheet.

  “We?”

  “Abbey’s right too,” McCall backed her up, much to her gratitude. They shared a small smile. “This is our team, right here, right now. We can’t risk anyone else knowing this, not even John. There’s no going back now/ I know us three well enough to know we won't let this go without a fight. So what are we going to do?”

  The women hunched over the table, awaiting a plan. Giving in to their scheme, I followed suit and prodded the paper.

  “We need someplace where DCI Reid will be comfortable and preferably loose-lipped.”

  Abbey gasped in revelation, rosebud lipstick faint after drinking the tea. “Where’s someplace that everybody you know is going to be drunk, dancing and charitable?” There was a weird excitement that I’d never seen in her before. It’s almost as though she was enjoying the scheming.

  It took a while for us to catch on to her encouraging nods.