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news with damp, unkempt hair.

“Who alerted the cavalry that we were here?” McCall yelled, covering her face from the flashes.

DCI Reid’s booming voice cut through the crowd. “Someone who wants my fist to knock out their teeth!” There wasn’t a chance of an easy escape, for the reporters blocked up the car park. Standing front and centre was probably the least likeable woman I’d ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Georgina Ryder. A sickly overpowering journalist who spilt lies for a living. She’d do anything to get a headline, including acting like someone she wasn’t. I knew that for a fact.

“What do the police have to say for themselves?” she yelled hoarsely, bright pink to match the tacky ensemble draped over that stick-thin body. She reminded me of a praying mantis in that respect.

DCI Reid was the first to answer their morbidly obsessed wishes, leaning into a microphone. “Absolutely nothing, for we weren’t in the wrong.”

“How can you say that?” a middle-aged man yelled. “Two people were killed on our streets, and you put another one in hospital.”

A level-headed McCall took it upon herself to reply. “We had no choice. They were criminals with guns, shooting towards us. If they weren’t stopped then and there, they could've done a lot worse, like shooting the locals.” The comment regarding locals quelled their angry fire momentarily.

“DI Cooper,” Georgina’s sickly voice cut into my skin like glass. She had riled me up already. “The statements we received yesterday claimed all of this was over the transportation of a drug shipment. Do you think death was a worthy price for desperate people trying to earn some extra money?”

“No, I don’t, but I could ask you the same question. Do you believe addicts deserve people who are ‘only earning some extra cash’ by exploiting their addictions? Thousands more could’ve died from this shipment alone. We did the best we could, given the circumstances we were given.” I remained indifferent. I didn’t take the bait as the old Finlay would’ve.

“Well done,” McCall murmured. I’d silenced Georgina in the very least.

“Thanks.”

“My team only has the best interest of the locals and the Bay in mind. Our actions yesterday were entirely based on the people of Dalgety and their wellbeing. It doesn’t get fairer than that,” DCI Reid informed the reporters sternly, and they seemed unimpressed that we weren’t giving them anything more exciting. They longed for drama, whereas we stuck to facts.

“Our side didn’t exactly go unscathed either,” McCall mentioned building up our public image profile. We were laying it on a bit thick, but they’d have a tough time picking out faults in our approach to this crime, although they’d probably find a loophole somewhere. “A PC, Ryan Shaw, was hit too. He’s in there right now, and all of us from the station sincerely hope that he gets better soon.”

“Do we have to be worried about any more shootings happening around here? Should we warn the locals to stay inside until it all blows over?” a young kid joined in, fairly recognisable too.

“No,” DCI Reid promptly replied. “There’s always going to be criminals out there. We can’t stop them all, that would be nearly impossible, but we carry on. We will not give them the satisfaction of winning and frightening us.” The way in which DCI Reid spoke was like Churchill making a wartime declaration. Full of promise and determination, it was one that gave you hope and reassurance.

One by one, the reporters got bored with us being on our best behaviour and filtered off. The car park seemed sparse and empty without them there, although Georgina was the penultimate one remaining.

“Will you ever stop trying to dig up dirt on me?” I asked irritably, to which the other two watched in curiosity.

Georgina’s fluffy pen played with her blonde curls, a strange grin toying with her puckered lips. “You’re the weekly entertainment, DI Cooper. I don’t think I'll ever stop having a fascination with you. You’re a wild card, and I refuse to believe this… clean image of yours will last. You’re the best headline, the one that people want to hear about.”

“Was that a compliment?” I retorted, making her snort in mirth.

“You wish. I’ll be watching you.” She flashed those pearly whites in our direction, before sauntering away. She struggled to walk normally in that tight skirt and jotted something in her notebook.

“What a creep,” McCall bristled in distaste. “I can’t stand that woman. It’s almost as though she’s got some weird obsession with ruining your image.”

“I know. And there are many things that could spoil my image. Like if the locals found out I only shower three times a week, or I barely floss my teeth,” I cracked a joke.

“Women like her won’t stand down. I know the type. Just watch out, Cooper,” DCI Reid said, flattening his grey locks down by licking his palm and smoothing it through. “We should head back whilst we can before anyone else comes out in full force to snap pictures of us. I’ve got things to tell us all when we’re together.”

8

Upon our return to the station, Skipper was back in her rightful place and bustling around with paperwork. It was a relief to see her there, things felt a bit more… normal.

McCall and DCI Reid were partway through a conversation, so I left them to it and separated to greet Skipper.

“DI Cooper!” she greeted me accordingly. Her toothy smile held a warning for anyone else to back away. Considering Dora’s main role was to have face-to-face interaction with people, her attitude could be frightening.

“Hullo, Skip.” I gave a small wave. “We missed you yesterday. The place wasn’t as lively.”

She listened intently to my flattery and smiled.

“You got that right. It was my granddaughter's wedding. Trust me to miss one of the most exciting days. I’ve been doing a load of rubbish recently, waiting for something like that.”

“Ah, that is unfortunate, but still, a wedding is always exciting, no?” I leant on the desktop, avoiding her

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