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He hadn’t seen Daisy cry since he left Sandbrook with a suitcase and nothing in the way of hope.
That afternoon she had cried for nearly an hour, curled into his chest like the child she had long stopped being. All Hardy could think to say was that it would be okay and that he was there for her. He couldn’t guarantee either promise and he prayed she didn’t realise.
The truth was he was seeing daily how the boys that taunted her would turn out as adults.
He’d never felt more powerless.
The phone rang and he answered without checking who it was.
“What?”
“Got those maps you wanted,” came Miller’s voice. “Harford is setting up some computer generated thing but I dunno. There’s something nice about looking at it properly. Not to mention the satisfaction of stabbing pins into something.”
“Right.”
It had consumed his waking moments for weeks, but right then, the case couldn’t have seemed further away.
“I think that was a thank you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Basic manners, arsehole. I did something you wanted. Any kind of reaction would be nice.”
“Right. Of course. Good work, Miller.”
There was a pause before she spoke again.
“With what?”
“What?”
“What did I do good work on?”
Hardy winced. He racked his brains, but couldn’t remember what she had just said.
He heard her sigh and knew he was getting off lightly. “Are you okay?”
Or maybe not.
“Fine.”
“Bullshit.”
“Don’t ask if you don’t want the answer.”
“Hardy.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Does it ever get boring being so intolerable?”
Miller’s insults were usually easy to ignore. He could inwardly appreciate the wit sometimes but otherwise he would let her blow off steam until she would let him talk again. It was a simple enough system. This time, however, he tried to think of an answer.
The truth was it was exhausting, being alone. Normally he thrived off it, having only his demons for company. He had never wanted Daisy’s to join them. It created a different kind of weight, one that he was not used to carrying around on his shoulders.
For once, it didn’t matter that he felt like a failure if he asked for help. His pride was nothing compared to Daisy’s pain.
“Do you remember being a kid?”
The change in conversation didn’t faze her. He suspected the difference in his tone was setting off alarm bells though.
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Do you think it’s harder for them today? With technology and all that shite?”
Miller didn’t say anything for a while. He didn’t prompt her for an answer as he was happy to linger in the silence. There, he hadn’t had to tell the closest thing he had to a friend what a shit dad he was. He hadn’t heard the disappointment in her voice.
“Hardy, what’s happened?”
The words were mechanical. Years of police training let him fall away from their meaning. Well practised phrases that had nothing to do with the little girl he had raised and failed.
He had expected a litany of swearing and threats. The sound of car keys being grabbed and front doors slamming as Miller swore vengeance on the shits that had done this. He had wanted to bathe in the anger he would eventually feel when the crippling guilt and sadness faded.
Instead of the hard edged war machine, Miller softened into the emphatic friend she was to all. He closed his eyes and fell into the sound of her voice. It was a rare occurrence they were in the same place emotionally. The balancing act was what made their relationship so important to Hardy.
“Is she okay?”
“Nah. Still in her room, refusing to go to school. Not that I want to send her back there.”
“You?”
“They haven’t done anything to me.”
“You couldn’t have stopped it.”
“Couldn’t I?”
Being absent as a parent was a fear that kept both of them up at night. He could almost hear Miller’s guilt through the speaker.
“She’ll be okay,” she told him with more confidence than he had. “Yeah, she’ll have a shit time of it for a bit, but she’ll bounce back. She’s made of strong stuff.”
“She’s made of me.”
“And life has beat seven shades of shit out of you and you’re still here.”
Hardy felt the corner of his mouth twitch. He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes.
“Why are people so cruel? What’s the point?”
“You are never going to find those answers.” She chuckled but it sounded hollow. “Trust me.”
The motivations of others came up so frequently in his work that Hardy rarely noticed when he looked for them when he was off the clock. He supposed Miller was the same. It was one thing to puzzle out a stranger but it was another to look into the eyes of someone you loved and try to fathom what lay beneath.
Why had Daisy trusted someone so unworthy of her?
Would Joe have ever told Ellie the truth?
Why hadn’t they spoken to each other in years?
“Don’t bother with the office today,” Miller said eventually.
“No, I’d rather work, tak-”
“I know,” she interrupted. “I’ll bring these maps over to you. And a giant box of pins, eh? We’ll stab something rather than the people who deserve it.”
Hardy closed his eyes, trying to force the tears back. It had been so long since he had had someone wanting to help him and even longer since he was willing to let them. There was a word for that level of mutual trust and openness, but there was too much going on for him to even think it.
“Thanks, Miller.”
“Anytime. But I will leave straight away if you don’t have any biscuits in.”