Resurrection Men

34

“Then why are you here?” Andrea Thomson pressed her hands together, resting her chin on her fingertips. For this meeting, she had borrowed an office at Fettes HQ. It was the same office she always used when there were officers in Edinburgh with a need for counseling. “Is it because you feel cheated of some sort of victory?”

“Did I say that?”

“I felt it was what you were trying to say. Did I misunderstand?”

“I don’t know . . . I used to think policing was about upholding the law . . . all that stuff they taught you at Tulliallan.”

“And now?” Thomson had picked up her pen, but only as a prop. She didn’t write anything down until after the sessions.

“Now?” A shrug. “I’m not sure those laws necessarily work.”

“Even when you achieve a successful result?”

“Is that what’s been achieved?”

“You solved the case, didn’t you? An innocent man has been released from custody. Doesn’t sound like a bad result to me.”

“Maybe not.”

“Is it the means of achieving the end? You think that’s where the system’s at fault?”

“Maybe the fault lies with me. Maybe I’m just not cut out to . . .”

“To what?”

Another shrug. “Play the game, perhaps.”

Thomson studied her pen. “You’ve seen someone die. It’s bound to have affected you.”

“Only because I let it.”

“Because you’re human.”

“I don’t know where any of this is going,” Siobhan said with a shake of her head.

“No one’s blaming you, DS Clarke. Quite the reverse.”

“And I don’t deserve it.”

“We all get things we feel we don’t deserve,” Thomson said with a smile. “Most of us treat them as windfalls. Your career so far has been a success. Is that the problem perhaps? You don’t want that easy success? You want to be an outsider, someone who breaks the rules with only a measure of impunity?” She paused. “Maybe you want to be like DI Rebus?”

“I’m well aware that there’s not the room for more than one of him.”

“But all the same . . . ?”

Siobhan thought about it, but ended up offering only a shrug.

“So tell me what you like about the job.” Andrea Thomson leaned forward in her chair, trying to appear genuinely interested.

Siobhan shrugged again. Thomson looked disappointed. “What about outside work? Are there any keen interests you have?”

Siobhan thought for a long time. “Music, chocolate, football, drink.” She looked at her watch. “With any luck, I’ll have time to indulge in at least three of them after this.”

Thomson’s professional smile faded perceptibly.

“I also like long drives and home-delivery pizza,” Siobhan added, warming to the subject.

“What about relationships?” Thomson asked.

“What about them?”

“Is there some special relationship you’re in just now?”

“Only with the job, Ms. Thomson . . . And I’m not absolutely sure it loves me anymore.”

“What do you plan to do about that, DS Clarke?”

“I don’t know . . . maybe I could take it to bed with me and feed it Cadbury’s Whole Nut. That’s always worked for me in the past.”

When Thomson looked up from her cheap blue pen, she saw that Siobhan was grinning.

“I think that’s probably enough for today,” the counselor said.

“Probably,” Siobhan said, getting to her feet. “And thank you . . . I feel heaps better.”

“And I feel like a large bar of chocolate,” Andrea Thomson said.

“The canteen should still be open.”

Thomson put her unblemished legal pad into her bag. “Then what are we waiting for?” she asked.