CHAPTER SEVENTY
At 1.12pm, Darma announced, ‘We’re on.’
A cheer went up, and cops disgorged from the room. A uniformed officer walking past at the wrong moment had to squash up to the wall rather than fight the flow of bodies travelling to the car park.
Two minutes later, only three people remained in the briefing room – Georgie, a young female detective, and a stout general duties cop with an alarming pink tinge to his skin and soft wheeze. They perched in a row on tables opposite the projector screen and whiteboards.
‘Get either of you a coffee?’ the male offered.
‘I’m good.’
‘No, thanks.’
Georgie pressed her palms together, trying not to think. An impossibility.
Hearing the detective sigh, she asked, ‘Hanging in there?’
‘Yeah. I just really wanted to be involved. Hands-on, you
