Night Vision by Jane A. Adams

indicator that all was not well with Patrick’s head. True, Alec thought, Patrick’s work was as weird as it had ever been, but even to his untrained eye, it was evident that there was real skill here and an original if bizarre imagination at work. Patrick himself was one of the nicest and most balanced people Alec could think of – for all that life experience might have mitigated against that.
    Sighing, Alec dragged himself back to present thoughts and immediate problems. He found Parks in the lobby and relayed Eddison’s instructions.
    â€˜We’ve just heard from DCI Travers’ wife,’ Parks told him. ‘She’s on her way. I think a friend is driving her over.’
    Alec closed his eyes. ‘God, poor Maureen,’ he said.
    â€˜You know her well?’
    â€˜Not really. She liked to keep her home life as separate from Trav’s work as she could. Not that it was always possible, but, you know . . .’
    Parks nodded. ‘It’s hard on families,’ he said. ‘My missus was an army brat, dragged all over the shop depending on where her dad was stationed, and even then she didn’t see him for months on end. She reckons being a policeman’s wife is a doddle compared to that.’
    They settled themselves in the corner of the now almost deserted restaurant. It was officially closed, but the manager and a couple of the catering staff had stayed on to provide refreshments for whoever might need them in the hours to come, and Alec knew that was a very welcome decision. An informal base of operations had been set up, CSIs using one corner of the room to store their equipment and deliver their evidence to the collator. An officer close by prepared a space in which he could take witness statements from anyone in the rooms on Travers’ corridor. By tacit agreement, Parks and Alec took their drinks across to the far side of the restaurant and settled at a table close to the window. Alec looked out at the still busy car park between them and the motorway services. Lights had come on, though it was still not completely dark, the year still building towards the longest day later in the month and the blueness of the summer sky not yet completely banished by what passed for dusk beyond the yellow of the sodium lamps.
    â€˜So –’ Parks sat with his pen poised – ‘where should we start? You’d arranged to meet DCI Travers?’
    â€˜Yes.’ Alec hesitated. ‘Travers hadn’t been very happy about being here, about any of it. For that matter neither am I. It doesn’t make sense.’ He looked at Parks, waiting for the man to rise to the challenge.
    Parks shrugged. ‘I just go where I’m told, do my job, go home.’
    â€˜And who assigned you to this particular job? And why are you operating like a completely separate unit? Why is there no liaison with the locals?’
    â€˜I’m local,’ Parks objected. He regarded Alec thoughtfully for a moment and then said, ‘Yes, it’s all a bit weird, and yes, we’re not exactly keeping to the usual procedure, but Eddison says there’s cause, and Eddison is the boss. Eddison, in turn, has been authorized by fuck knows who from who the hell knows where. Alec, sometimes it’s best not to ask too many questions – not when you know no bugger’s going to give you a straight response anyway.’
    â€˜And that doesn’t bother you?’
    â€˜Ah, now, I never said that.’ Parks glanced back towards the hotel reception, as though talking about his boss might be enough to make him appear.
    â€˜We both know that Eddison is just a front man here,’ Alec pressed. ‘It’s Munroe who’s calling the shots.’
    Parks tapped his pen on the sheaf of paper in front of him. ‘I just do my job and keep my mouth shut,’ he said firmly. ‘Alec, truthfully, I don’t know what’s going on, but I do know I’m