Page 10 of Slack Tide Kill

And now she was back out there, alone.

He closed the laptop and rinsed his mouth under the bathroom tap, then caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror.

The eyes staring back looked older than they should: bloodshot, rimmed with gray, a ghost of the man who used to dream of making DCI by 30.

As if on cue, his phone rang.

The first call was Director McMaster, as expected. Florid orders to get down to Dungeness. To back up his partner.

When it was over, he stood motionless before the mirror, feeling the blood drain from his face. Not all the liquor in the world could make this sickness any better.

Then the second call came in, a private number.

"O'Connell," he answered.

"Good morning," came the hard, unsparing tone of Director Wilcot. Measured, educated, clipped. Not his boss. Two tiers above, in Organized Crime Command. "I'll keep this brief. You're heading to Dungeness."

"Yes, sir."

"We've reviewed the initial reports. This case has the potential to become high-profile rapidly."

Liam said nothing.

"You are aware of the sensitivities surrounding Officer Rogers."

He stared at the mirror. At the man who looked back. "Yes, sir."

"She remains a media lightning rod. If this develops into another national spectacle, it won't just be Kent that pays for it. We cannot afford another incident where operational control is lost to narrative."

Lost to narrative. That's what they called it now. "Understood, sir."

Wilcot paused. Not long, but deliberate. "I understand your position. You feel a loyalty to your partner. But you do remember where that loyalty led last time, don't you?"

Liam stiffened. Of course he would mention that. He mentioned it every bloody time. The old partner who'd been in bed with organized crime gangs. Who Liam had covered for again and again, not knowing how deep the rot went.

"Yes, I do."

"Yes you do, sir," Wilcot snipped.

"Yes, sir."

"Good lad. I am relying on you. The Home Office is highly sensitive to reputational exposure right now. The Agency cannot afford this officer freelancing under media glare again."

Liam gritted his teeth. Freelancing must be what they called almost dying in the line of duty.

"Understood, sir."

"You have been clear in your monthly summaries that she's restrained herself recently. That is promising. You will continue to monitor and assess. No deviation from standard evidential protocol. If she remains fully within remit, this remains administrative."

Administrative. Like the threat letter he'd received three months ago. Failure to cooperate will be interpreted as refusal of lawful instruction.

He closed his eyes briefly.

"You understand what's at stake for you here," Wilcot went on, his tone chilling. "Your future progression. Your suitability for senior command. Your judgement, especially given your facile belief in your corrupt ex-partner. This is your chance, O'Connell. Prove your past failure was a one-time slip of judgment, not a serious character defect."

"I understand, sir."

The line clicked dead. Liam lowered the phone slowly.