Free Made To Be Broken by Rebecca Bradley Page B

knew.
    Could I keep my cool and react to him as I would any of the other journalists or would I glow with this electricity gathering inside me?
    On the whole, EMSOU didn’t do many press conferences unless they were a necessity, so the fact that we had called one had sparked interest. The room was full and it was noisy, the journalists and their photographers and cameramen talking among themselves as they waited for someone to appear. Like a pride of lions waiting for its kill.
    And I was the gazelle, soon to be caught with nowhere to go.
    ‘All set?’ asked Claire, looking far too happy. But I couldn’t fault her, it was her default setting and this was her world anyway. She revelled in it, it made her buzz and gave her a permanent smile.
    ‘Do I have a choice?’
    ‘Of course you do. We can send them all home and they can make up their own stories.’
    ‘Okay, okay. I’m just saying.’
    ‘You’ll be fine. Think of them as a bunch of schoolchildren who are trying to get their teacher’s attention and approval.’
    I grinned at her. ‘You’re good.’
    ‘I know. Now get your arse out there.’
    I looked at her.
    ‘Inspector.’
    I smiled again and she winked. I walked out to the single table and chair placed in front of three blue felt boards – the Nottinghamshire police logo prominently displayed, along with the helpline number – to a barrage of flashes and a crescendo of noise. I took a breath and seated myself. The flashes continued. I waited until the noise died down before I spoke.
    ‘I’m going to read a statement out and will then take questions. I’d ask that you please let me answer them before shouting out any more or we’re just going to have pandemonium.’
    The room went quiet other than the continued clicking of cameras. I took a sip of the water from the glass that had been placed on the table.
    ‘Last week a woman, Lianne Beers, was found dead in her home in Bramcote. Post-mortem evidence has identified cause of death to be a drug overdose. Two days ago a young boy, Finlay McDonnell, died on a bus on the way to school. A post-mortem also found that he had the same drug in his system.’
    Camera flashes became louder and seemed brighter in my face.
    ‘At this present time, we are treating these deaths as suspicious. We don’t know how the poison got into their systems. We don’t know how or if the two victims knew each other. If anyone knows of any link or knows any information that can assist police with our enquiry can they please contact us on the helpline number provided? Thank you.’
    I looked out at the shocked but eager faces. I was about to face a barrage of questions.
    ‘I’ll take some questions now.’
    The whole room seemed to be made of arms as a cacophony of noise and arms went up in unison. I didn’t know where to look first. There was no order. Just chaos. Chaos I wasn’t used to handling. I looked to my right and sought out Claire who mouthed children at me. I smiled and turned back to the gaggle of children in front of me and pointed to the front row.
    ‘Are you going to tell us what the drug used was?’ A woman I recognised. Short cropped hair, young, minimal make-up, very trendy.
    ‘At this time, we are withholding that information in the interests of the ongoing investigation.’ More arms were waving at me wildly. ‘By doing so, the public are not at more risk.’ A couple of arms dropped.
    Ethan was sitting in the middle of the room, his look serious, arm in the air with the other reporters. I pointed him out. ‘Ethan Gale?’
    He paused a moment before speaking. I rubbed one of my damp palms down my trouser leg and kept it there, conscious of fidgeting.
    ‘Detective Inspector, do you think the death of Finlay McDonnell could have been prevented had you acted more swiftly with Lianne Beers?’
    It’s his job. His job, just his job.
    My mouth was dry. I swallowed.
    ‘No.’ I swallowed again, trying to get saliva to my mouth to help it function. This