Lost River. Stephen Booth

blouse, like a funeral director. Her shoulders were broad enough to carry a coffin on her own, too.

      Cooper stood up. ‘Yes, ma’am, thank you.’

      ‘Your line manager should make sure you defuse. I know you weren’t on duty, but even so. Then off to HR Service Centre – Care First, or a trained colleague supporter for a de-brief.’

      ‘No, really. Thank you, ma’am, but I’m fine.’

      ‘Well, everyone needs counselling services now and then. Perhaps a little leave? No? All right. Well done, anyway. Don’t forget – see me in my office at nine.’

      When Branagh had left, DI Hitchens put his hand on Cooper’s shoulder.

      ‘You do have to be aware of the fallout, Ben.’

      ‘I’m sorry?’

      ‘The psychological fallout.’

      ‘Oh, I see.’

      ‘So don’t bottle it up. There are systems in place. Critical incident support. DS Fry should take care of it.’

      Cooper nodded, accepting the good intentions, but hoping that no one would mention it again. Diane Fry had other things on her mind anyway.

      ‘They say it’s like falling off a horse,’ said Murfin a few minutes later.

      ‘What is?’

      ‘Trauma. Getting over a traumatic incident. The thing to do is go back and put yourself in the same circumstances again. It’s like when you fall off a horse – you have to get straight back on. Otherwise, you just get more afraid of doing it. It kind of builds up in your mind, the idea that you’ll fall off every time. If you leave it long enough, it turns into a proper phobia, like.’

      Cooper felt a surge of irrational anger, as if Murfin’s comment was the final straw.

      ‘Gavin, you’re not a psychiatrist. You don’t know what the Hell you’re talking about.’

      Murfin looked surprised at his irritability. But then he seemed to accept it, and looked thoughtful.

      ‘Well, it couldn’t be exactly the same circumstances,’ he said. ‘Not in this case, I grant you that. But the principle is the same. Trust me.’

      ‘Thanks a lot, Gavin.’

      ‘No matter what anyone said to him, now was not the time to be showing any signs of weakness. It certainly wasn’t the time to be taking leave from work, or asking for counselling. This was his one opportunity to prove himself – and if he didn’t come up to scratch, he wasn’t likely to get another chance. His failure would be marked down in his personal assessment, and reflect on him for ever.

      So he had to suck it up. He mustn’t let anyone see that he was affected in any way. Act normal. Be strong. That was the only way.

      But Cooper had to admit to himself that he didn’t feel entirely up to scratch. There was a slight tremor in his hands that hadn’t been there before. When someone dropped a stapler in the office that morning, he jumped as if he’d been shot. That wasn’t like him at all.

      Fry had only come into the office to clear her desk. She watched Cooper get up and leave the CID room as nine o’clock came round. He was off for his appointment with Branagh.

      ‘Gavin,’ she said, ‘did Ben meet the family of that girl who drowned? Has he mentioned it to you?’

      ‘Well, he hasn’t, as it happens,’ said Murfin. ‘He hasn’t talked about it much. But, yes – I hear he went to the hospital in Derby. Even drove the family home afterwards.’

      Fry sighed. ‘He’s getting personally involved.’

      ‘I couldn’t say.’

      ‘Very loyal, Gavin.’

      She dumped some files in her ‘out’ tray. They weren’t all dealt with, but someone would pick them up when she’d gone.

      ‘This family. I suppose they’re another lost cause of his.’

      ‘No. A nice, respectable middle-class family, from what I hear. You should try reading the bulletins.’

      Fry scowled. ‘How can you tell when a family is nice and respectable?’

      ‘When the kids are well behaved. Respectful. I like that.’

      ‘Oh?’

      Murfin seemed to sense the way she was looking at him.

      ‘What?’

      ‘Oh, nothing.’

      ‘Anyway – compared to my lot, some middle-class kids are a marvel. I wish somebody would write a parenting manual telling us how to turn out teenagers like that.’

      Fry looked up as Cooper came back from the Super’s office.

      ‘Acting DS?’ she said.

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Well, I suppose…’ said Fry, struggling to find the right words to camouflage her doubts. She wasn’t sure what she supposed. And she wasn’t sure whether she cared, really.

      ‘I’ve got the experience, Diane,’ he said, defensively.

      ‘Gavin has more than you.’

      Fry knew it was a ridiculous thing to say, even before the sentence had left her mouth. The prospect of Gavin Murfin as Acting Detective Sergeant was so bizarre that it made the choice of Ben Cooper seem all the more preferable, even to her.

      ‘Well, look after the kids, won’t you?’ she said.

      ‘Of course.’

      And she supposed he would. In fact, Cooper would probably ruin them for anything worthwhile in the course of a week. He’d pollute their minds by encouraging them to empathize, improvise, trust their instincts. Some nonsense like that. She’d have her work cut out to undo the damage when she came back from Birmingham. It might take her years to get them back in shape.

      Fry sighed. Oh, well. God had sent Ben Cooper to her as a challenge, there was no doubt about that.

      ‘I need to hand over this case to you. The drugs enquiry on the Devonshire Estate.’

      ‘To me?’

      ‘Yes, to you. Acting DS Cooper.’

      ‘Right. That would be Michael Lowndes?’

      ‘He’s our initial suspect. But we believe he’s low level. We haven’t pulled him in because we want to identify the main players. We had an abortive surveillance operation yesterday. You heard about that?’

      ‘Yes, Diane.’

      ‘Our information was that he was due to meet up with his bosses yesterday to make one of his regular payments. But we slipped up, and lost him on the estate. He could have had somebody waiting to pick him up, we don’t know. You’ll need to see if you can get another shot at it. Okay?’

      ‘Fine, I’ll give it a go.’

      Fry handed him the file reluctantly. She felt as if she was handing her purse to a mugger, and advising him how to spend the money.

      ‘Diane, is it true you’re going –’

      ‘To Birmingham, yes.’

      ‘I hope it goes well.’

      ‘Thanks. Whatever that means.’

      ‘Yeah.’

      Fry turned away. The trouble was, no matter how clumsily he did it, Ben Cooper was always sincere.

      Before she left the office, Fry relented and went over to give him some advice. Tips on how best to handle the team while she was away. Cooper nodded politely, even made a few notes. As if he actually thought she knew what she was doing.

      ‘And