The Kill (45 page)

Someone was running up the stairs, two at a time. I knew who it was going to be before Derwent came round the corner, heading for the office. He reached out to tip up my chin as he went by.

‘Head up, princess. Your tiara is slipping.’

I’d been holding it together until that moment, and I managed not to cry until the door had closed behind him. Then the sob I’d been suppressing fought its way up, and out. I put one hand over my eyes, as if that would let me hide from my colleagues or random passers-by.

I heard the door open again, and footsteps coming back towards me, slower this time. He must have stopped and turned around more or less as soon as the door closed behind him. Trust him not to miss the state I was in.

‘What’s up?’

I shook my head, turning away.

‘Stop crying.’ He leaned in and said it again, quite loudly. ‘Stop.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You don’t cry at work. Don’t be that girl who cries at work. You’ve worked too hard to be that girl. You don’t want to be her.’

I sniffed, wiping away tears with the back of my hand. ‘Stop being mean.’

‘Stop being pathetic.’

‘A normal person would give me a hug.’

‘And they’d get snot on their suit.’ He looked up and down the corridor. ‘Look, this isn’t the place for this, unless you want an audience. Come on.’ He took my arm and marched me down the corridor until he found an empty meeting room. He pushed me through the door. ‘Stay there. I’ll be back.’

I didn’t know where he’d gone and I didn’t really care. I sat down at the table and leaned my elbows on it, burying my head in my hands. I had no fight left in me any more.

He came back in balancing a glass of water on top of a box of tissues. He dumped them on the table. ‘Have at them.’

I did as I was told, wondering where he’d got the tissues. Someone’s desk, probably. It would have to be a woman, because the men never bothered with that kind of thing. I really hoped he hadn’t stolen Una Burt’s tissues. Fuel for the fire.

Derwent sat down on the other side of the table and watched me, frowning a little. When I’d recovered enough to talk, he tilted back on his chair. ‘What’s this about? The absent boyfriend?’

‘No. A bit,’ I said. ‘Not really, though. More about work.’

He looked surprised. ‘Work is good.’

‘No,’ I said, blowing my nose. ‘It’s not. DCI Burt.’

That got his attention. He went very still. ‘What about her?’

‘She’s not going to let me work with you any more. She’s waiting to talk to you when you get in. She’s going to get you transferred.’

‘Like fuck she is.’

‘That’s what she told me. She seemed pretty sure of herself.’ I wiped my eyes. ‘She’s getting rid of you and I’m going to be made to shovel shit until I’ve earned the right to do my job again.’

To my surprise, Derwent laughed. ‘Oh, good. I’m going to enjoy this.’

‘What?’

He stood up. ‘Burt doesn’t get to make decisions about who stays on the team and who goes. She’s strictly care-taking until the boss gets back, and he will be back – don’t worry about that.’

‘But she’s in charge.’

‘She thinks she’s in charge. That doesn’t mean she can do what she wants, as I’m about to tell her. It was one of the things the assistant commissioner made very clear to me.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘No hiring and firing. No major changes. She’s stuck with me, because I’m not going anywhere. And that means you work with me.’

‘But she outranks you. If she gives me stuff to do, I have to do it.’

He shrugged, uncompromising as ever. ‘You’ll just have to work harder and do both. I’m not going to let her take you away from me. I’ve put a lot of work into you, Kerrigan, and I’m not going to let someone else get the benefit.’

I prickled with annoyance. ‘You didn’t make me a good detective. I did that myself.’

‘Better,’ he said. ‘More anger, fewer tears. Stand up for yourself.’

‘I can’t stand up to her. I’m too junior.’

‘That’s what I’m for.’ He frowned at me. ‘Are you okay?’

I nodded.

‘In that case, it’s time to face the troll. Wish me luck.’ He leaned across the table and patted my hand. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll sort it out. Everything’s going to be all right.’

There was nothing Derwent liked more than an argument. He bounded out of the room in high good humour, looking for Burt. I stayed where I was, praying to Saint Jude. Desperate cases and lost causes were his area of expertise. It would have delighted Derwent if he’d known. The stakes were too high for me to enjoy the thought of him blasting Burt out of her complacency. He could argue all he liked, but that didn’t mean he would win.

I could have been amused that of all the things I’d lost, Derwent assumed he was the most important. I’d never have admitted it to him, but he wasn’t altogether wrong. He was tied in with work, with my confidence in myself, with everything that mattered to me. My personal life was way out of my control; all I had left was my job, and Derwent made it what it was.

So out of everything that had gone, if Derwent was the one thing I got back, I would accept it and be glad.

Chapter 31

The hospital wasn’t what I had expected. It was in an old country house for starters, with massive grounds that stretched down to a lake. A few people – I assumed patients – sat on benches or walked along gravel paths. They wore ordinary clothes. They looked normal. They probably were normal, I reminded myself. Mental illness affected a lot of people. Addiction would account for a few more. I wasn’t there to judge.

Actually, I had no idea why I was there. I was nervous as I walked up the stairs. I didn’t know what to expect, or how to be.

I knocked on the door and waited until I heard a familiar voice say, ‘Come in.’

Godley was standing by the window, his arms folded. He was wearing a jumper and jeans, which was unsettling for starters. He was made for immaculate tailoring, silk ties, crisp shirts. I didn’t know how to be around an off-duty Godley.

He had been staring out the window, but when I didn’t say anything he glanced at me.

‘Maeve.’ A genuine smile spread across his face. ‘I thought you were a nurse or an orderly. I get nothing but interruptions.’

‘I thought you were here for peace and quiet.’ I crossed the room and then stopped, feeling awkward. What I wanted was to hug him, but he was still the boss. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘And you. Thank you for coming. Sit down.’

He had a big room with a sofa and armchair as well as a bed. More than ever, I felt as if I was in a luxury hotel, not a hospital. Obediently, I sat on the sofa. He took the chair.

‘How long do you think you’re going to be here?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know. Weeks. Maybe months.’

‘All paid for by the job?’

‘One of the perks,’ he said drily. ‘You wouldn’t believe the fun we have in here. It’s like a country club.’

‘Not really.’

‘Not at all.’ He stretched. ‘I can’t wait to get back.’

‘You have to take it slowly.’

‘That’s what everyone says.’

‘Everyone didn’t see you pointing a gun at your head.’

He flinched. ‘Maeve.’

‘I’m sorry, sir. I can’t pretend everything is normal. You almost killed yourself.’ I felt my throat tighten. ‘I thought I wasn’t going to be able to stop you.’

‘I know.’ He looked down at his hands. ‘That’s why I asked you to come here. I wanted to thank you for that. And for saving my job.’

‘That was Derwent’s idea.’

‘I know. I saw him already.’

‘What did he say?’ I asked.

‘That I should get my arse in gear and get back to work, pronto. And that I was an idiot for keeping it a secret. And that he missed me.’

‘He loves you.’

‘I know. You’re going to have a tough time with him.’

‘Why?’

‘You have to keep him out of trouble. Una is going to be watching him, all the time.’

‘She wants to get rid of him.’

‘Yes, she does. And it will burn her that she hasn’t managed it yet.’

‘He told her she can’t make him leave.’

‘And he was right about that.’

‘But she could make him want to leave.’

Godley shook his head. ‘Josh is too stubborn for that. He’ll hang on. But if he gives her any opportunity to make him look bad, she’ll take it.’

‘Are you going to go along with Derwent’s plan? Fooling Skinner?’

‘I don’t really have any choice.’ He sighed. ‘It would be nice to get something out of all this. If I can make that happen I’ll feel I’ve made myself useful.’

‘I don’t think you have much to prove to anyone. Everyone just wants you to come back.’

‘Including you?’

I leaned back, startled. ‘Of course including me.’

‘The last time I saw you, you were very angry with me.’

‘For giving in. For giving up. For not doing anything to help yourself. But I know you were trying. I don’t know what I would have done in the same circumstances. I hope I’ll never know.’ I hesitated, wondering whether to go on, and decided it wasn’t worth keeping quiet when I’d already said so much. ‘You always thought I was judging you but you were much harder on yourself than I ever was.’

‘I hated myself.’

‘I know. But I never felt that way about you. I’ve always loved working for you and I will work for you for as long as you want me to.’

‘Thank you, Maeve.’

I took it as a dismissal and stood up to go.

‘Well done on the Amy Maynard arrest. I saw the footage.’

I blushed. ‘Everyone has a camera these days.’ Forunately no one had been close enough to pick up our voices.

‘You did a good job.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ I edged towards the door. ‘I should go.’

He frowned at me. ‘Tell me to piss off if you like, but are you all right?’

‘Why?’

‘You look tired. Upset. Not yourself.’

‘I’m fine,’ I lied. Aside from the not sleeping and not eating. Aside from the ache in my chest that plagued me all day and woke me up at night. I hadn’t known until now that heartbreak was a physical thing.

‘You told me you were learning to ask for help when you needed it. Don’t end up somewhere like this.’

‘It’s not like that,’ I said.

‘Talk to Rob,’ Godley said. ‘He’s a good man. He’ll look after you. I should have leaned on Serena instead of pushing her away. Don’t make the same mistakes I did.’

‘I’ll try not to.’ I made an attempt at a smile and said goodbye.

‘Come back and see me soon.’

‘I will.’

‘Any time, Maeve.’

‘I promise.’

I trudged back down the stairs with a heavy heart.

Talk to Rob.

If only.

I walked through the gardens to the car park, which was full of whirling beech leaves from the hedges that surrounded it. My coat snapped and billowed in the wind like a sail. The wind had a razor-sharp edge to it and I hurried, head down, to get into the car. I was about to drive away when I saw the envelope stuck under the windscreen wiper. I hopped out and retrieved it, wondering slightly at getting junk mail here, in the middle of the country, and at a hospital at that.

Heavy paper. A lined envelope.

My name on the front in the difficult, crabbed handwriting I knew to fear.

I ducked down to check there was no one in the back seat of the car, then popped the boot to make sure there was no one lurking inside it, then looked behind the hedges and in the other cars and everywhere and anywhere that the bogeyman could hide. I got down and checked under the car, looking for wires or bugs or anything that shouldn’t be there. My mind was running through every single possible threat, every way that I could be harmed, even though I knew that Chris Swain had only wanted me to be scared, again. I sat back into the driver’s seat. My heart was thudding and my hands were wet with sweat as I struggled into blue evidence gloves. The one thing I didn’t feel was surprise. Of course he had found me. He always found me.

I opened the envelope. It wasn’t sealed. There was just a single sheet of paper inside.

I saw you on television. You looked beautiful. But you seemed lonely. Everyone leaves you, don’t they? But don’t worry, Maeve. I’ll never abandon you. I’ll always be here.

Watching.

Waiting.

Drive carefully. It’s a long way back to Farringdon.

See you soon.

Chris

I put down the letter and stared out through the windscreen at the trees, where Swain was probably lurking. He would want to see me scared. He lived for that.

And I had had enough of it. I was tired of being frightened. I was tired of running away.

One way or another, I was going to end this.

Acknowledgements

My thanks to all at Ebury, especially Gillian Green, Emily Yau, Louise Jones, Amelia Harvell, Helen Arnold, Martin Higgins, Guy Lloyd, Jake Lingwood and Fiona MacIntyre. Their tremendous support, guidance and encouragement are what turned an idea into an actual book.

I am always grateful to everyone at United Agents for their faith in me, and in Maeve. Special, heartfelt thanks to my wonderful agent Ariella Feiner for making all sorts of dreams come true.

James Norman provided me with many insights, a detailed explanation of cell-site analysis that I completely failed to understand the first five times, advice, help, encouragement, access to police officers and their knowledge and, most importantly, time. Nothing at all would happen without him.

The following people helped tremendously, whether they knew it or not, sometimes just by saying the right thing at the right time: Liz Barnsley, William Ham Bevan, Peggy Breckin, Fergus Brennan, Lauren Buckland, Declan Burke, Frank and Alison Casey, Philippa Charles, Brian Cliff, John Connolly, Rhian Davies, Mili Doshi, Fred, Alan Glynn, Lesley Harrison, Amy Herron, Anne Marie and Aidan Herron, Kerry Holland, Áine Holland, Catherine Kelly, Erin Kelly, Frank and Rosie Kenny, Paul and Ann Kenny, Pat and Kathy Kenny, Barbara Mahon, James McConnachie, Claire McGowan, Edward and Patrick Norman, Bridget and Michael Norman, Katherine O’Callaghan, Helen Gleed O’Connor, Vanessa Fox O’Loughlin, William Ryan, Stav Sherez, Jeanette Slinger, Ann Sloane, Abby Stern, Nick Sweeney, and last but not least Mary Brennan, who is so generous with her time and praise. This book is dedicated to her.