Where Justice Fails by G R Jordan

Author:G R Jordan [G R Jordan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: G R Jordan
Published: 2021-12-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Macleod stared at the small hole in the wall of his office. The paint on the wall had been put there three months before during a lapse in the spending control imposed by the facilities manager. Clarissa had been in Macleod’s office at the time when a man had arrived, asking what colour they wanted. Macleod had been away for two days and when he came back, Clarissa had organised a light pastel yellow for the walls. Macleod didn’t particularly enjoy it, but in truth, it fitted with the carpet on the floor and all his furniture. He had even managed to smile when he saw it, taking away Clarissa’s thunder. And to this day, he hadn’t let slip just how annoyed he was at her determining the look of his office.

But twenty minutes ago, Macleod had marched into his office, having spilt coffee on the sideboard outside and not mopping it up. He’d come straight through and punched the wall behind his desk. He didn’t know why he’d always believed that it was a solid wall all the way along. Macleod had not been party to seeing building construction, but he knew that renovations had taken place to create a space for the murder team within the Inverness Station when they had moved up from Glasgow. They had been used to being travellers up to this area, but now with their new base, they were able to operate on the cases of the north of Scotland.

Macleod looked at the hole again. It had come from his second knuckle alone, and as he looked at his hand, he could see a faint trace of blood. One thing that always bothered Macleod was the things he couldn’t control but which were doing immense damage around him. By choice, he’d walk onto several estates known for drugs, family issues, and spousal abuse, and he’d take away the pubs in the centre of them. He’d take away those hang-out shelters built before to try and improve the town, but where people congregated in the evenings, where dealers would stand, dry from the rain, selling their wares quickly before they were moved on by whatever police car that passed. And the first people Macleod would close down were those pointless TV stations.

Macleod was not a friend of the press, but he knew they had a job to do, and if they reported fairly, he never had a problem with them. But these days there were so many conspiracy theorists, so many programmes with such loose evidence that it drove him insane. What really got to him was that Jane watched them and even at times talked to him about them, where he’d have to point out that the evidence wasn’t there time and time again. How did such an intelligent woman fall for all this? That he could never understand.

Macleod looked at the wall. In all the time he’d been here, he’d never hit the wall. He clenched his fist. He felt despair, but the sheer anger with which he hit it bothered him, and the anger wasn’t at the killer.

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