35
“Stephen.”
Burke had barely made it through the door of Branton Police Station when he was hailed by Sergeant Wells, who had desk duty that morning.
“Frank, how’s things this morning? Anything going on?”
Wells ignored the question and asked one of his own instead, “How’s Nate? Is it as bad as I’ve heard?”
“I don’t know what you’ve heard, but yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Burke told him. “I wouldn’t expect to see him for a while.”
“That’s what I figured.” Wells’ normally cheerful face was sombre. “Collins is looking for you,” he said, changing the subject. “He wants to see you as soon as you get in. I think he wants to know about the fire.”
“I’m sure he does.” Burke didn’t relish the prospect of reliving his partner’s nightmare for the benefit of his superior, he didn’t imagine he was g
