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‘Yeah, pretty sure she hates me too,’ Devon said, taking the opposite seat.
Stacey now saw that Devon wasn’t distant or cold as she’d thought, but pensive and tense. Her relief was short lived as she digested Devon’s words.
‘Why would she hate you?’
‘She was here, earlier today.’
‘Whoa, what?’
‘Yeah, that’s probably not gonna be the most surprising thing you’re going to hear tonight, but I did let her have it, babe.’
‘Oh Jesus,’ Stacey said, taking a huge gulp of wine. Like she didn’t have enough problems with the boss right now.
‘Sorry, but her treatment of you is appalling, and I told her so.’
‘Hon, she’s my boss,’ Stacey groaned.
‘Then she should bloody well start acting like it, not least by offering you some support for what you’ve been through and an apology for exposing you to a man like Birch.’
‘She couldn’t have known what he was. I interview witnesses alone all the time.’
Devon shook her head. ‘I knew you’d defend her. I wish I understood what she’d done to deserve such blind loyalty.’
Stacey felt sick. The thought of her boss and her wife at loggerheads was just too much.
‘We’re a unit,’ Stacey explained. ‘We work together day in and day out. There are bonds. It’s tough to explain.’
Devon’s own workplace differed since they had a high turnover of staff and the team she worked with changed on a weekly basis.
‘I get it, babes, but those same bonds run both ways. However angry she is with you, she should have your back right now.’
‘She’s not like normal people, Dee. She shows her emotions in different ways, but…’ Stacey stopped speaking, aware the conversation was diverting from something that was way more important. ‘Hang on. Why was she even here?’
‘Ah, well, she wanted to talk to me about the night Birch was killed.’
Stacey felt a rush of emotion: anger, injustice, fear. Her boss had talked to her wife in connection with a man’s death, as a police officer, and hadn’t even mentioned it. What right did she have and, more importantly, what cause?
She reached for her satchel. This was too much. She wanted to be back on good terms with her boss, but what right did she have talking to Devon behind her back? ‘This is not on. I’m gonna call—’
‘Hang on. Let me tell you the rest. Take a good chug of wine,’ Devon advised.
Stacey did so, wondering what the hell more there could be.
‘She came to talk to me because she saw some footage.’
‘Of what?’ Stacey asked as a finger of fear travelled up her spine.
‘Of me punching Birch.’
‘Wh-what? How? When?’
Stacey wondered whether, if she stepped outside and entered the flat again, this would all make sense.
‘When I stormed out on Monday night, I caught him up. I shouted at him. I punched him. It was caught on someone’s door camera.’
‘But you went out in the car,’ Stacey said.
‘After I’d confronted Birch, I did. And your boss wants to know where I went. The camera also showed my car driving off in Birch’s direction.’
