Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

investigate those early suspects. Nothing they had said helped establish who had killed Henshaw, Corless, Bradshaw and now Birch. And if the police didn’t find the killer soon, there might be other victims before long. It wasn’t her fault the killer remained at large, but Geraldine couldn’t help feeling accountable. She focused on her reading with renewed determination. She had access to all the information so far gathered. If there was any hint of a clue that had been overlooked, she had to find it. That she had done her best wouldn’t exonerate her.

     
    ‘Hey, you look miles away.’
    Nick’s desk was placed at right angles to hers; he must have walked right past her without her noticing. She gave him a cursory glance. His features softened into a smile, inviting conversation.
    ‘I’m thinking,’ she answered tersely, not wanting her train of thought to be further interrupted.
    She turned away, signalling that she wanted to be left alone. To her annoyance, he stood up and came over to perch on the edge of her desk. Resisting an impulse to snap at him, she kept her eyes fixed on her screen.

     
    ‘Must be interesting,’ he ventured.
    He smiled warmly as though he was perfectly comfortable twisting round to look at her. She didn’t answer.
    ‘Still working on the Hammer Horror?’
    She looked up on hearing him use the term coined by some idiot reporter.
    ‘The Hammer Horror?’ she snorted. ‘That’s what the bloody tabloids are calling him.’
    ‘Oh, I wouldn’t pay attention to anything those hangers-on say. You just get on with the job.’
    ‘That’s what I’m trying to do right now.’
    ‘Well, don’t let me stop you. ’
    He waited for a few seconds but she didn’t look up from her screen so he retreated to his own desk where he sat shuffling papers.

     
    Geraldine scowled. Her attempt to pre-empt distraction had failed, because now she was bothered by the possibility that she had offended her colleague. She had nothing against Nick and besides, they had to share an office.
    ‘I’m sorry to be unsociable, it’s just that I’m bogged down in all this.’
    ‘Can I help?’
    ‘Hardly. I mean, you don’t know the case from the inside, and it’s really a matter of going over details again. If I had to start explaining, it would – well, it would waste time …’

     
    He was back on her desk, smiling in his relaxed way that really wound her up in her present state of agitation. It was hard to believe he could be so dense as to ignore the obvious fact that she wanted to be left alone to get on with her work.
    ‘I’m very experienced,’ he said. ‘I’m sure I can be of assistance, and I can easily spare half an hour to help reduce the load on an overworked colleague.’
    Now Geraldine felt irritated with herself for resenting his tone. She knew he didn’t intend to come across as patronising, but genuinely wanted to help. All the same, she began to understand how he could have riled Sam.
    ‘Thanks, but I really need to get on.’
    No longer caring if Nick took her abrupt dismissal the wrong way, she settled back to work.

     
    She went over what Corless and his girlfriend had said. Closing the last document, she turned her attention to witnesses and studied Keith Apsley’s statement. It was growing late and she was nowhere near finished.
    ‘I’m off,’ Nick announced. ‘If you’re sure I can’t help you out?’
    Geraldine looked up. Maybe she should go home and forget about work for the evening, so she could return to it fresh in the morning. She was wasting her time, going over and over the same old documents.
    ‘I think I should pack this in too,’ she said, leaning back in her chair with a sigh.

     
    Nick raised his eyebrows.
    ‘I mean for today,’ she added.
    ‘I thought you were saying you’d had enough of the job altogether.’
    ‘I do feel like that sometimes,’ she admitted.
    ‘Leave it for the evening and come for a drink then,’ he suggested.
    She was tempted but shook her head.
    ‘I’ll take a rain check on that,’ she replied, turning back to her terminal. ‘I really should crack on for a bit longer.’
    He wished her luck and left, whistling cheerily.

     
    For a moment she was tempted to run after him. Instead, she turned her attention back to the screen and pressed on resolutely, knowing she would carry on until exhaustion forced her to stop for the night. Although that was hardly an efficient way to proceed, ideas often occurred to