Free Deadly Focus by R. C. Bridgestock

at times like these when he just wanted to hold her close. Jen had a handful of friends in admin, which helped her pass the day. She involved herself in voluntary work, organising events for charity outside of work. She said it had helped her cope when he was working. Jen often spoke of feeling lonely while he worked long hours and he didn’t know how to resolve that. She was vocal in telling him she hated the police because of what she saw it doing to him and he had to agree that he would be tossed aside like a worn car tyre, unwanted, unfit for purpose, in time. He’d simply be replaced without a further thought when it came to him retiring. So why did he do it?
    Dylan had had his boost from hearing her voice and he felt ready to get to grips with the media issue, what he would say and what he wanted to get across to the public. Dawn had handled the team briefing and got the team out and about on enquiries.
    ‘Who you been talking to, to put a smile on your face?’ Dawn asked as she joined him.
    ‘Ah, it was a wrong number. Funny how weird people act when they ring a DI by accident,’ he lied. ‘Coffee and toast for us, Dawn,’ he said standing up from behind his desk. ‘My treat as you made the coffee.’
    ‘I should think so.’
    ‘I’ve just spoken to Janice to let her know Susan Raynor is sorted to back her up,’ said Dylan as they walked to the canteen.
    ‘And I told the troops in the briefing the evil bastard had caused the death of Daisy’s gran. God knows how Trevor and Wendy are coping.’
    ‘Rachel’s on her way from the Press Office to discuss any issues before the press conference. Do you want to be present for that?’ he asked.
    ‘I’d like to be there for the meeting, but you’re on your own with the Press. One singer, one song,’ she laughed.
    ‘It would be good experience for when you’re applying for the next rank.’
    ‘When I have to do it I will, but for now they’re all yours.’
    ‘Okay, no problem, if you’re chickening out,’ he teased.
    ‘They’ll probably focus all their cameras on your mouth anyhow.’ Funny, he’d almost forgotten about that.
    A short while later Rachel arrived and all three sat and discussed how to handle the media side of the enquiry. The phone rang. It was Janice.
    ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, boss, but I’ve just got the green light from Trevor. Poor thing, he’s been on the telephone all morning to family and friends, but at least it’s kept his mind occupied.’
    ‘Is that for both Daisy and Irene?’
    ‘Yeah, both. They’re asking if it’s possible for them to have a joint funeral and burial. Seeing as Daisy adored her gran so much, they’d like them to be buried together. I told them I’d look into it for them. Auntie Sam’s wedding has been postponed and is unlikely to happen this year. She just couldn’t go through with it.’
    ‘It’s sad, but you can understand. It’s a really nice thought about them being buried together. We’ll do what we can. Let them know that Daisy’s murder will be headline news in the papers and on the news tonight, will you? And be careful, some of the nationals may try knocking at the door; they seem desperate for an exclusive. Don’t let them near. Any problems, ring us.’
    ‘Will do, boss. Thanks.’
    ‘By the way, Janice, you’re doing a great job,’ Dylan said sincerely.
    ‘Thanks. It’s nice to be appreciated. I’ll get back to it and tell them about your call.’
     
    It was standing room only in the conference suite. The photographers let loose their flashes. Dylan entered the room and sat behind the desk at the front. It was a lonely job being an SIO. He knew he would have their undivided attention while he spoke, and then the room would erupt, with questions being fired at him from every angle. The clock struck eleven and, as the flashes stopped, Dylan started.
    ‘Daisy Charlotte Hind was a little girl of nine, the only child of Wendy and Trevor. The evening she went missing,