‘YOU, BITCH!’ bellowed out from somewhere behind her.
Lucy stopped.
The sound of footsteps getting closer, faster, turning into a run.
She whirled around for the third time since locking the van, fists coming up. But not fast enough. A slab of pale flesh battered into her, hurling her off her feet and sending her booming into the side of a parked Transit. Lucy’s head bounced off the liveried bodywork and the world filled with the sound of a church organ — all the keys and pedals being hammered down at once.
Hands grabbed at her raincoat’s lapels, smashing her against the van again.
‘YOU DIRTY, LYING, MURDERING BITCH!’ It was a woman, mid-forties, greying brown hair pulled back in a vicious bun. Hard eyes, surrounded by creases, underlined with dark-purple bags. Skin pale, mottled, and lumpen — like spoiled milk. Little sharp teeth, bared in a snarl, spittle flying from wide lips. Sarah Black. ‘YOU KILLED MY NEIL!’
Lucy pulled herself back against the Transit, away from the sprayzone. ‘Get off me!’
A shout rang out from the other side of the road. ‘HOY! WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING, CUT IT OUT!’ Followed by hurrying feet.
‘YOU KILLED HIM, YOU MURDERING—’
Lucy jabbed her knee up, hard, thumping into something soft that brought a whoomping grunt with it. She stuck both hands in the air, as if surrendering, then slammed her arms in and down, across Black’s forearms. Shoving them closer to Lucy’s body, bending her knees to apply a bit more weight to it.
Sarah Black let loose a guttural howl and collapsed to her knees.
Which was when the cavalry appeared around the side of the van — a pair of uniforms in soggy high-vis jackets, the lights blinking on their Body-Worn Video units. One even had his extendable baton out and drawn back, ready to strike.
Sarah Black took one look at them and hauled in a deep breath. ‘POLICE BRUTALITY! HELP! POLICE BRUTALITY!’
‘Well, that was... unfortunate.’ Chief Inspector Gilmore handed Lucy a glass of water. ‘How’s the head?’
She just shrugged, even though it was pounding. Took a sip. Cold and bland. Like the office.
Professional Standards had taken up residence on the fourth floor — presumably so they could look down on Plainclothes and Uniform alike — their offices decorated in magnolia and beige. Like a dentist’s waiting room. Only without the sense of happy anticipation.
Gilmore settled his large backside on the edge of the desk. He was one of those officers who looked wholly out of place in a Police Scotland black T-shirt and black trousers. Both of which were stretched tight. The hair on his head hadn’t managed to conquer the top bit; instead it’d retreated to a defensive circle from about ear-height downwards, leaving the crown of his head to shine pink in the room’s single light. He pulled off his narrow glasses, huffed a breath onto the lenses, and cleaned them with a blood-red cloth. Voice soft and warm, like a concerned uncle. ‘Mrs Black has made a formal complaint, alleging you attacked her on the street.’
Great.
Lucy opened her mouth, but Gilmore held a hand up before she could say anything.
‘I know, it’s nonsense, but if there’s one thing we learned from the Fatal Accident Inquiry, it’s that the Black family’s version of reality is somewhat... unique?’
‘Let me guess: there’s nothing on the station CCTV?’
‘Sadly, not. There would’ve been, if someone hadn’t parked a dirty big Transit van in the way. Well, I say someone.’ He popped his glasses back on, then peered over the top of them at his notebook. ‘“Daren Black, Building and Landscaping Contractors”. So I think we can be fairly sure the blind spot wasn’t accidental.’
‘I didn’t touch her.’
‘Yes. Well. As I said...’ He picked an oversized iPhone off the desk next to his big fat backside, fiddled with the screen, then held it out. ‘Unfortunate.’
It was a video, probably on YouTube, going by the controls along the bottom. The footage started just after Sarah Black battered Lucy off the van’s side for the second time. That bounce making it look as if Lucy was lunging for her. Slamming her arms down across Black’s and forcing the woman to her knees.
A cry of pain, then, ‘POLICE BRUTALITY! HELP! POLICE BRUTALITY!’ as the two uniformed officers hurried into shot, one with his baton back, ready to attack the old bag. ‘POLICE BRUTALITY!’
Another scream as Lucy put her in an armlock.
‘YOU’RE HURTING ME! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!’
The pair of cops shuffled about, as if they had no idea how all this police stuff was supposed to work.
On-screen Lucy glowered up at them. ‘Don’t just stand there, you gormless pillocks, arrest her!’
‘POLICE BRUTALITY! POLICE BRUTALITY!’
Finally, Gormless Pillock Number One produced his cuffs and snapped them on Sarah Black’s wrists. His mate launched into the official spiel as the pair of them dragged her to her feet. ‘I am arresting you under section one of the Criminal Justice, Scotland, Act 2016 for...?’ Pulling a face at Lucy. ‘What am I arresting her for?’
‘GET OFF ME! I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING!’
‘Assault.’
‘Okeydokey. I am arresting you under section one of the Criminal Justice, Scotland, Act 2016 for assault.’ The pair of them frogmarched her towards Divisional Headquarters, with whoever was filming it puffing to keep up — the sound going all shonky as the footage wobbled about.
‘YOU’RE BREAKING MY ARM!’
‘The reason for your arrest is that I suspect that you have committed an offence and I believe that keeping you in custody—’
‘HELP! POLICE BRUTALITY!’
‘—is necessary and proportionate for the purposes of bringing you before a court—’
‘I’LL SUE! I’LL SUE YOU FOR EVERY PENNY YOU’VE GOT!’
‘—or otherwise dealing with you in accordance with the law. Do you understand?’
‘HELP ME!’
Then the filmer’s voice: a hard Kingsmeath accent, with flat vowels in all the wrong places. ‘You bastards better get a good lawyer, cos you’re going down!’
At that, one of the officers let go of Sarah Black and turned, holding a hand out, blocking the man’s way. ‘All right, sir, that’s far enough. I need you to step back.’
‘CALL THE PAPERS, DAREN! TELL THEM HOW THIS BITCH ATTACKED ME!’
A bit more camera wobble as Daren tried to get past the officer, and then the footage came to an end. A little grid of images suggesting what to watch next appeared, all of which seemed to be cookery shows.
‘Sorry.’ Chief Inspector Gilmore shut the app and put his phone back on the desk.
Lucy stared at the blank screen. ‘Oh, for God’s sake.’
‘Posted by one Daren Black, along with a GoFundMe link to raise money so they can sue you, O Division, and Police Scotland.’
She covered her face with both hands and folded forwards, till her chest pressed against her knees. ‘It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t want him to die, but I didn’t have any choice!’
Gilmore’s hand was warm against her shoulder. ‘I know.’ And the hand was withdrawn. ‘We can charge her for assaulting you — and we will if that’s what you want — but it might just add fuel to the fire.’