He hadn’t even realised he’d backed towards the door until it pressed against his spine. The woman gave him a hard look but didn’t push it. “Very well. I’m Inspector Jones and this is DS Michaels. We work for Professional Standards. Or, Anti-Corruption, to be more precise.”
When Pember didn’t react, DS Michaels reached into a drawer under the desk and withdrew a white box. It had a large purple sticker on the front, and Pember knew exactly what it contained.
“A drug test?” he said, eyeing the box.
The inspector nodded. “Yes. Mr McArthur, you understand that we operate a zero-tolerance policy on drugs, yes?”
Pember let out a breath and finally decided to sit down. “If you mean zero tolerance for controlled drugs, then yes, I know.”
“Good. Do you take drugs, Mr McArthur?”
Pember coughed, nearly choking on his own saliva. “W-what? Outside of my prescribed suppressants? Absolutely not.”
The inspector nodded and tapped the top of the box. “So you’ll consent to a drug test, then?”
“What? Yes, of course!”
They both nodded before DS Michaels popped open the box and withdrew the familiar plastic strip. “Lovely. Is there anything you’d like to tell us, Mr McArthur? Anything at all?”
Pember frowned. “No, I don’t think so? I-is that a trick question?”
“Absolutely not,” the inspector replied. “Just a cheek swab and—well, you don’t need me to tell you.”
“Okay.”
DS Michaels smiled and held the swab towards him. “Nice and wide, Mr McArthur. That’s it.”
Opening his mouth, he let the sergeant swipe the inside of his cheeks. He was about to say that it should be five swipes each side, not four, but thought it would probably be a stupid fucking idea to lecture a sergeantandthe inspector of Professional Standards.
“And just a mouth rinse, please.”
Pember nodded and squirted a tube of saline solution into his mouth, swished it around and spat it back into a little plasticpot. Except his nerves got the better of him, and he missed the pot and spat half of it onto the table.
DS Michaels grimaced, pulling on a pair of blue gloves. “Thank you,” he said, holding the pot at arm’s length.
Pember watched as he rubbed the swab across a test kit, then tipped a drop of mouth rinse onto another. Cocaine, heroin, cannabis, crack. Those were the four big hitters, but Pember knew the kits could detect much more than that.
The sergeant inhaled and gave him the fakest smile he had ever seen. “Lovely weather,” he said.
Pember swallowed, glancing out of the window. The weather was still absolutely abysmal, and the clouds held an unusual purpley-grey sheen, as if it was about to thunder.
The inspector eventually cleared her throat and straightened. “We’ve received an anonymous report that you’ve been consuming illicit substances at work.”
His gaze flicked to her, face drawing into a deep frown. “You… what? Who?—”
“Anonymous.”
Pember searched the depths of his brain, trying to pull out any memories of when he might have taken his medication at work. Or when he might have done something that could be misconstrued.
Nothing. Not that he could think of.
“R-right?”
The inspector only smiled, showing entirely too many teeth.
Then, Pember’s mind settled on the only logical answer. “Is this… is this something to do with my mum? Tracey? Did she report me?”
“Anonymous,” the inspector repeated, glancing down at the test.
