The Last Girl (46 page)

‘That was part of it.’ He dragged his eyes up to meet mine. ‘What did you notice?’

‘You haven’t been sleeping well, for starters.’

‘No one sleeps well in this weather.’

‘Come off it, Rob. You haven’t been around much, but when you’ve been here you haven’t been what I’d call chatty about work. Not as much as you should have been if you were enjoying it, anyway. I thought it was because you didn’t want me to feel guilty about you having to transfer out of Godley’s team, but I was way off, wasn’t I?’

‘It wasn’t the work. Or not exactly.’

‘It was her.’

‘It was DI Ormond.’

‘You can call her Debbie if you like. I gather that’s how she prefers her boyfriends to address her.’

‘I don’t call her Debbie.’ He said it flatly. ‘Where did you hear that?’

‘Derwent. He’s her ex.’

‘One of many, from what I’ve heard. Bit of a coincidence, though.’

‘Not really. It seems she goes for anyone she works with – always has. And she’s been around for long enough to get through a fair proportion of the Met.’

He sighed. ‘Look, I didn’t want to tell you about it because I didn’t want to worry you and I didn’t want you to be upset on my behalf and I didn’t want to even mention it in case you thought it mattered, but she’s been doing her best to make my life difficult since we both joined the squad. She’s got a nasty reputation for playing favourites and picking on anyone who doesn’t go along
with
what she wants. And I wasn’t prepared to go along with what she wanted.’

‘Because what she wanted was you.’

‘Basically. From the first day she laid eyes on me, and not because of anything I did or said, before you jump to any conclusions. And I wasn’t going to cooperate.’

‘Well, how laudable.’

He stood up. ‘I didn’t ask you for a medal. I wasn’t even going to tell you about it, remember?’

‘Until you got caught out.’

‘If I’d really been worried about keeping the two of you apart I would have come up with some reason for you to stay away from the pub the other night.’

‘I’ve been wondering why you didn’t.’

‘Because I didn’t have anything to hide.’

‘So hiding it was just for practice.’

‘Don’t be such a bitch.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘It’s not like you to throw names like that around.’

‘It’s not like you to be so unreasonable.’ His eyes were as hard as flint. ‘Seriously, Maeve, get over yourself. You know I didn’t lie about anything important. You know I was keeping it from you for good reasons, and not because I was trying to play the field.’

‘Good reasons being that you didn’t trust me not to overreact.’

‘Well? You’re not proving me wrong.’

‘Fucking marvellous.’ I started to walk out of the room and he stepped in front of me.

‘Don’t leave. Don’t just walk away. This is too important.’

‘It
is
important. You need to start treating me like an adult. Like your equal, even.’

‘That’s how I see you.’

‘It’s not how you treat me. You’ve always been the one who acted like you were in charge. Even saying that you loved me –
that
was your way of distracting me from what was really going on.’

‘You cynic.’ He frowned down at me. ‘What else is going on? What aren’t you telling me?’

‘Don’t turn this around on me.’

‘What’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’ It was my turn to be on the back foot.

‘It’s never nothing with you.’ He was still staring at me. ‘There’s more to this than you overreacting about DI Ormond. You’ve got something else on your mind.’

‘Oh, stop with the telepathy, for once. There’s no more to this than the bare fact that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me you were having problems at work. And that’s no basis for a relationship in my book.’

‘You’re not breaking up with me over this,’ Rob said softly. ‘Don’t even pretend it’s enough of a reason.’

‘It sounds like reason enough to me.’

‘Don’t get me wrong, this conversation isn’t over, but I don’t see the point in prolonging it now. I’m going to go out and run until I don’t feel like murdering you any more. You can do what you like, but I suggest you meet me in the park – say at the café by the lake in about an hour – so we can talk about this like human beings. Being in here doesn’t seem to be doing either of us much good.’

It was a good suggestion, better than he knew. I had just been about to ask if we could go somewhere else to talk. If my stalker was staying true to form, the flat could be bugged if not wired for video, and I didn’t want to let Chris Swain know too much if I could avoid it. What I wanted was for him to believe Rob and I were finished, and it was starting to look as if it would even be true. I just wished I could be more pleased about it. It was for Rob’s sake, I reminded myself, and made myself go on.

‘All right. I’ll see you there. I’ll even buy you a bottle of water. But I don’t think a change of scenery is going to bring about a change of heart.’

‘We’ll see.’ He picked up his keys and his phone, and checked the time. ‘Right. One hour, or thereabouts. I’ll see you there.’

I listened to him go, wincing as he slammed the door. He kept his emotions on such a tight rein that it was the only sign of how upset he was.

Doing the right thing had never felt so hard.

Chapter Twenty

IF I DIDN’T
quite enjoy the walk through the park, I was still able to acknowledge that it was a lovely place to be. Battersea Park suited the long warm summer evening, with children playing under the tall plane trees and locals strolling hand-in-hand down avenues of beeches. There were dogs everywhere, all kinds from pedigree to pure mongrel, mostly up to no good. Most of them seemed to have been in the lake at one point or other, and some of the owners looked more than a little damp around the edges.

The park had been planned with rambling in mind and I took advantage of that on my way to the café. The lake was surrounded by lush planting and featured islands covered in what was apparently wild woodland. I took my time wandering around, watching teenagers squabble in hired rowing boats while the ducks looked on sagely from the banks, staying well out of it. Romantic champagne picnics seemed to be in fashion; almost every bench had its cooing couple. I wondered how many of them would end up staying together for the long haul. I wondered how many of them were lying to each other. I wasn’t really in the right mood for lovebirds, understandably enough.

I crossed a humpbacked footbridge onto one of the islands in the lake and found a free bench at last, just opposite the café. The great table-legs of Battersea Power Station’s chimneys stuck up behind it against the fading sky, a reminder that London in all its grime wasn’t too far away despite the acres of trees and grass that surrounded
me.
There was no sign of Rob, who was presumably pounding his regular route around the outskirts of the park. The path bordered the Thames on one side and it would be a nice place to run at that time of evening, I thought, with the best chance of a breeze. Certainly there was no breath of air on the lake. The leaves hung limply above me and the grass was piebald brown where the sun had scorched it during the long summer days. Dragonflies and midges shimmered above the surface of the water and I sat and watched them, thinking about the Kennford case, and Rob, and whether a glass of wine would help with our forthcoming conversation. The café was busy; most of the tables outside were full. The hum of conversation was audible from where I sat, and the setting sun cast a golden light over the scene, making everyone look ten times more glamorous and beautiful than they deserved to. A London summer at its best, you could say, if you didn’t mind the heat or could avoid it during the days. It was one of the curses of being a police officer that we were out in all weathers. Bodies never seemed to turn up on temperate days, early on in a shift, when there was light and time to deal with them. Murder was not a convenient speciality but I was increasingly aware that it was all I wanted to do. I had been warned by one of the older detectives on the team when I joined it that it was the professional equivalent of a smack habit. ‘It’ll break your heart and take everything you value in your personal life but you won’t be able to quit.’ Typical old CID hyperbole, I had thought at the time. Now I wasn’t so sure.

A jogger ran past – not Rob. Then another two, women running together, talking about weddings. One was lean and slim-hipped; the other profoundly pear-shaped and out of breath but pounding along with good grace. A personal trainer, I thought, with a highly motivated bride who still had a bit of work to do. A cyclist sped past, a vision in emerald-and-white Lycra and fly-eye sunglasses,
his
wheels whirring like the insects in the undergrowth. Another jogger, this one stocky and perspiring heavily. On the far shore I saw a figure in blue shorts and a dark top. It could have been Rob and I squinted, watching his arms and legs move in a steady but fast rhythm, as measured as engine pistons. He was running off his temper, I recalled. He would be moving quickly.

A prickle at the base of my skull made me look around; it was that feeling of being watched that I had learned not to discount. How it worked, I didn’t know, but I had been right too many times to think it was a fluke. At first, I couldn’t see anyone. There was a homeless man in the shrubbery behind me, a bundle in dark woollen clothing that I hadn’t noticed before I sat down. He was probably the reason the bench had been unoccupied, but he was far enough away for me to ignore him, and anyway, he was asleep. I scanned the trees and bushes around me, feeling ridiculous but also feeling my heart thud in my throat. I edged my mobile phone out of the pocket of my jeans, just in case. Nothing on the right, I was sure. I turned my head and looked to the left, very casually, as if I was just taking in the scenery.

He was on the bridge, fifty yards away, and he had a camera. The cyclist who had passed me earlier, anonymous in shades and his helmet. Now that I saw him again I knew who it was, even without seeing his face. He had grown a heavy beard but I recognised the sandy hair and the narrow build. The giveaway was the lens that was pointed straight at me. From that distance I couldn’t hear the click as he took pictures, but I had no doubt he was doing more than look through the lens. I turned my head away again and peered at my phone, flicking through the contacts, choosing a name.

Please pick up.

It rang.

Please.

Another long ring. Another two and I’d get his voicemail.

Maybe he wouldn’t answer. Maybe he would be too angry, still, or he’d wonder why I was bothering him ten minutes before we’d arranged to meet.

And it rang.

Maybe he wouldn’t hear the phone. Maybe I should have rung someone else.

‘Hello?’

‘Rob?’ I couldn’t keep the distress out of my voice.

‘Maeve? What’s wrong?’ His breathing was laboured.

‘It’s Chris Swain, Rob. He’s watching me. He’s here.’

‘Where?’

‘On the bridge to the island in the lake,’ I started to say, but looked back halfway through the sentence to see the bridge was empty. ‘Shit. He’s gone.’

‘What’s he wearing?’

I described him as best I could, and the bike.

‘I’ll see if I can cut him off. Do you know which way he went?’

‘No.’ I had got to my feet and moved forward to the water’s edge. ‘Where are you?’

‘Near the café. I can see you.’

‘Wave,’ I said, scanning the shore. ‘Oh, okay. I’ve got you.’ He was pacing back and forth, obviously desperate to get moving for all the calm in his voice.

‘Have a good look around. Look at the paths. If he’s on a bike, he’ll be moving fast but he can’t go everywhere in the park. Watch the gaps in the trees.’

I was doing as he suggested, straining to see. A brief flash of white and green drew my attention and I peered across the water until my eyes stung with the strain.

‘Okay. I’ve got him. He’s heading towards you, on your right at the moment. Coming fast.’

‘On this path?’

‘The one behind, I think.’ I watched as Rob took a
shortcut
through a flowerbed, vaulting over some railings. He had hung up on me, unsurprisingly – he would need all of his energy for the chase. And he was tired already, I remembered with a pang.

And if he caught Chris Swain, what was he going to do? Fight him? Rob wasn’t armed but there was every chance Swain was carrying a weapon. I was already regretting that I’d involved him. I should have called 999, but it didn’t come naturally to me to ask for help like an ordinary member of the public. In the middle of a park, miles from my radio and equipment, that’s exactly what I was, though. And so was Rob. I dialled the number and explained who I was, where I was and why I needed urgent assistance. Without shame I mentioned Godley’s name to add weight to the report. The operator assured me it would be treated as a priority.

Having called in the cavalry, I didn’t have much to do beyond standing by my bench chewing my bottom lip, waiting for my phone to ring. I didn’t want to move until I’d heard from Rob or someone else. All around me people carried on talking and running and laughing, as if nothing strange was going on at all, and my nerves were being stretched to snapping point. When my phone did vibrate I answered it on the first ring.