The Babysitter(24)
Fourteen
MARK
He wasn’t serious? Was he? Looking from Cummings, who was slouching against the window ledge, to DCI Edwards, who sat stony-faced at his desk, Mark laughed incredulously. ‘You have to be joking,’ he said, bewildered that his DCI would imagine he’d be doing anything in the area but driving by.
‘Doesn’t look very amused, does he?’ Cummings observed wittily.
‘Sit down, please, DI Cain,’ Edwards instructed, casting a scathing glance in Cummings’ direction, which was at least something.
Dragging a hand through his hair, Mark stayed where he was, his emotions swinging from disbelief to anger.
‘We have to eliminate everyone from our enquiries, DI Cain. You above all should know that.’ Edwards’ gaze flicked towards him and then to the chair. ‘Sit.’
This was fucking nuts. Mark counted silently to five, lest he was tempted to give in to his urge to wipe the supercilious smirk off Cummings’ face, and then did as bid, where he waited, infuriatingly, while Edwards finished writing up whatever was so uber-fucking-important he felt obliged to ignore him.
Finally, Edwards downed his pen, leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers over his chest. ‘Well?’ he said, his expression impassive as he looked at Mark.
‘Well, what?’ Mark asked agitatedly. Did the man not realise what Cummings was up to? Looking for any and every opportunity to undermine him in front of Edwards. Obviously he didn’t, because Mark hadn’t yet filed his concerns about Cummings. Something he intended to rectify as soon as was humanly possible.
Edwards leaned forwards to eyeball Mark meaningfully. ‘Don’t be insubordinate, Detective,’ he warned him quietly. ‘I’d like details, please, of what you were doing driving through Farley Village in the early hours of the morning on three separate occasions.’
Tugging in a long breath, Mark curtailed his temper. ‘I was trying to get Evie to sleep,’ he said, locking eyes with Edwards and making damn sure to hold his gaze.
‘Well, it’s different,’ Cummings sneered, ‘I’ll give you that. Definitely a new one on—’ he stopped as Edwards glared in his direction.
‘Would you like to elaborate?’ Edwards asked, turning back to Mark.
Not really, no, Mark thought. But he had no choice, he supposed, galling though it was to talk about this in front of someone as contemptuous of marriage and children as Cummings was. ‘Evie went through a phase of not sleeping between her three thirty and six thirty feed,’ he explained, reluctantly. ‘Mel needed to sleep. She was exhausted. Evie tends to nod off in the car, so I drove around with her.’
‘Obviously going for father of the year award,’ Cummings drawled sarcastically. ‘In the habit of negotiating hairpin bends in the dark with your baby daughter in the car, are you?’
‘I play music. Classical,’ Mark answered tightly. ‘It lulls her to sleep.’
‘Right. No doubt while being filmed. Pay you well, do they, Audi, for starring in their smoother ride advert?’
Mark clamped his jaw tight, and didn’t retaliate. Cummings would just love that.
Edwards picked his pen up, his forehead creased thoughtfully as he tapped it on his desk. ‘And your wife will corroborate this, will she?’
‘Bound to, isn’t she?’ Cummings muttered. ‘May I suggest we get the video enhanced, sir,’ he suggested, turning to Edwards. ‘Just to confirm that the child was actually in—’
‘No, you may not,’ Edwards cut in bluntly.
Cummings stared at him, confounded. ‘But surely you’re—’
‘That will be all, DS Cummings. Thank you.’ Edwards turned back to Mark, something resembling a smile flitting across his face. ‘Mark, get Melissa to give me a call, will you?’
Mark was taken aback for a second. ‘Er, yes, no problem,’ he said, watching bemused as Edwards went back to his paperwork. ‘Is that it?’
‘For now, yes,’ Edwards confirmed.
Cummings glanced between them, shaking his head scornfully. ‘I don’t bloody believe this.’
‘Dismissed, DS Cummings,’ Edwards said, without looking up.
‘What a fucking joke,’ Cummings griped behind him, as Mark headed for the door to get on with what he was supposed to be doing – finding a missing child.
‘Oh, that you definitely are, Cummings,’ Mark grated, heading for his own office.
Lisa looked Cummings disparagingly over as she walked across to join Mark. ‘Someone piss on your firework, did they, Cummings?’
‘Just doing my job,’ Cummings said, veering off towards his desk. ‘I doubt DI Cain would have hesitated if the shoe were on the other foot.’
‘Not for a second,’ Mark assured him, wondering whether it might be worth an official warning in exchange for wiping the floor with the bastard.
* * *
Deciding positive action might be more productive than volatile reaction, Mark begged the use of a PC’s personal vehicle that evening. He knew he should be using the time before the forensic specialist’s report came back to be with his family, especially after the catastrophe that morning, but the cocky expression on Cummings’ face as he’d sauntered out of the office had only made Mark more determined to catch the bastard in the act. Did the man really think that his car being picked up on CCTV amounted to anything? That he’d find anything in Mark’s life or career – apart from the fact that Cummings’ own repugnant activities had pushed him to the limit – that would make him a subject of investigation? Cummings had miscalculated, badly, if he’d imagined Mark would back off rather than risk being accused of pursuing a personal vendetta.