by GS Rhodes
“And what will you say to him?” Zoe asked.
Kidd laughed. “I’d probably punch him, then kiss him, then yell at him.”
“He’d deserve that,” Zoe said. “Do you miss him?”
Kidd took a sip of his drink. “All the time,” he said when he’d swallowed. “Work is a good distraction.”
“The last six months must have been hell for that.”
“Oh, you better believe it,” Kidd said.
The chips arrived and Zoe smothered hers in salt and vinegar, putting a large glob of mayo on the side of her plate. She dove in with full force. She really must have been hungry. It was only when Kidd had the first bite that he realised he was too. He’d been running on fumes.
That’s why I couldn’t catch the kid, he thought. I was under-fuelled. He knew it was wishful thinking, but he’d take it.
“What about Facebook?” Zoe asked.
Kidd felt like he’d missed a step somewhere. Maybe he’d been so engrossed in the chips she’d been talking to him the entire time and he hadn’t noticed.
“Huh?”
“In looking for Craig,” Zoe said. “You’ve checked it, right?”
“Of course,” Kidd replied. “He was never really big on it. He never got the whole social media thing. He’d get tagged in photos and stuff, but he’d never do anything himself.”
“And that’s remained totally empty?”
“Not a thing,” Kidd said. He checked Craig’s page pretty often, gotten lost in some of their old pictures. He’d lost hours to that during his leave.
“What about his friends?”
“What about them?”
“Well, he had friends besides you, right?”
“Yeah,” Kidd said. “He had a whole work life and stuff. Why?”
“Well, check there maybe?” Zoe said. “His friends will know who you are. If he’s just gone off-grid, maybe one of them has an idea where he might be.”
“I don’t know,” Kidd said. It was one thing for him to still be living in a world where Craig hadn’t left him, but to dredge up those feelings in other people just felt harsh somehow. Also, given how their relationship had been towards the end, he couldn’t imagine they’d be thrilled to hear from him.
“I do,” Zoe said. “You’ve got nothing to lose, right?”
“My dignity?”
Zoe shrugged. “You got beaten by a foetus in a foot race, Ben, you don’t have any of that left.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The conversation switched from Craig to other men in Kidd’s life, a conversation that was mercifully short because… well… since Craig, there hadn’t been anyone else in Kidd’s life. Any energy he had for a romantic relationship had been dedicated to looking for Craig, something that made Zoe give him those sad puppy dog eyes.
“What about the guy with the card?”
“What guy with the card?” Kidd asked.
Zoe rolled her eyes. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, Benjamin Kidd,” she said. “You had a card in your pocket and you were looking at it all goo-goo eyed after we got back from the hospital. Where did that come from?”
“It came from a guy who gave it to me last night,” Kidd said. “But I wasn’t interested, so I declined.”
‘But you kept his card,” Zoe said.
“Yeah—”
“Well, you can’t have been that uninterested if you held onto his card,” Zoe said. “And the way you were looking at it, I would say you were far from uninterested. I would even go so far as to say you were interested.”
“Oh, would you look at the time,” Kidd said. “I really must be going.”
“Okay, okay, okay, I’ll stop,” Zoe said. “One more drink?”
It didn’t take much to twist Kidd’s arm. Just like things had been last night with Liz, it was nice to be out of the house, nice to be talking to someone other than himself.
They nursed another drink for an hour or so, Zoe’s soft because she was driving, Kidd enjoying a second pint, chatting until neither of them could stand to be awake any longer, and they parted ways, Kidd experiencing tipsy déjà vu as he left the Druids Head.
“I can give you a lift home?” Zoe offered once they were outside. “It’s on the way, it’s no bother.”
“I’ll be fine,” Kidd said. “Could do with the fresh air.”
“Lightweight!” she called after him as he set off in the direction of home.
“See you tomorrow!” he called back.
He took a different route, wandering back towards the river and enjoying the quietness of it. In the distance, he could hear the music pumping out from one of the restaurants along the riverfront, the occasional sound of a car revving its nuts off across Kingston Bridge.
He found himself fondling John’s card in his pocket again. Would it hurt to call him? Or just to message him? They could go for a drink. He could test the waters, see if he was interested.
If you’re thinking about it, you’re probably interested, he thought. He knew Zoe was right. He hadn’t thrown the card away. He was in denial.
His phone buzzed in his pocket and he took it out, seeing a message from Liz.
LIZ: Hope you had a good first day back. Tilly says Hi, Tiny Tim says *blows raspberry noise*
Kidd laughed in spite of himself.
I say hello and *raspberry noise* back.
Today was fine.
Just getting back into the swing of things.
She didn’t need the gory details of the day. If she was already worrying about him, hearing he’d had his nose smashed in and ended up in hospital was hardly going to help that. He pocketed his phone and kept walking, wrapping his jacket around himself to battle against the wind coming in off the river. He passed the restaurants, a couple of people sat outside eating and smoking, definitely out of their minds given the state of the weather, but who was he to judge?
He continued down beneath the bridge. Someone barged into his shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed anybody there, he’d thought he was alone.
Then the punch came, straight to the ribs, enough to knock the wind out of him. He stumbled backwards, lifting his arms to protect his face. Kidd wasn’t much of a fighter, but he’d been in his fair share of scuffles since he’d joined the Met and he knew how to defend himself. He just wasn’t expecting to have to do it now.
He was disorientated, someone wearing dark clothes, a hood pulled up far enough that the lights cast shadows on his face, shadows that made him impossible to identify.
The assailant swung a punch that Kidd blocked, knocking it out of the way with his forearm before launching an attack of his own. He swung his fist towards their stomach, connecting hard. He heard a low grunt as he stumbled backwards, falling over his own feet, and hitting the ground hard. But he wouldn’t be deterred. He looked like he was about to go for Kidd again as he dragged himself to his feet.
“I wouldn’t,” Kidd said, drawing himself up to his full height, not letting the sharp stab of pain in his side make him wince. He still had his fists raised and he darted towards the man, but the guy broke into a run, heading off down the river and out of sight.
Kidd immediately ran after him, right back the way he’d come, along the river, past the people eating in restaurants. He was tall, quite slender and when his hood fell back Ben hoped he’d be able to make out something of his face but got nothing. He wasn’t catching him. There was no way.
Kidd slowed down to a stop, leaning on a nearby railing to steady himself. His side already hurt from where he’d been caught by surprise, the running hadn’t helped.
“Twice in one day,” he grumbled. “Can’t make a habit of this, I’ll fall apart.”
He watched the younger man running away, back in the direction of the Druids Head. His gait was strange, like he wasn’t trying to put weight on one of his legs as he ran. Ben wondered if he’d known he was there, had he been watching him the entire time?
He took a few deep breaths before straightening
up and starting back towards his house. Not how he thought his night was going to end, that much was for certain.
Kidd walked away from the river, back through town, and out the other side, a little more vigilant of anyone who might be watching him. He kept his coat pulled tightly about him, his collar up high, just in case whoever it was had a change of heart and wanted to come back and try again. He could only hope he’d decided to go home and nurse the bruise Kidd had given him.
He cradled his fist in his hand. He’d definitely caught something hard, either a nose or a cheekbone, because his hand ached. He’d have to ice it when he got in.
The house was cold, colder than it had been the night before. Kidd threw the lights on and hung his coat by the door, locking and deadbolting the door behind him. It was quiet. On any other day, Kidd wouldn’t think twice about the quiet, but getting jumped had set the wind up him a little. He tried to shake it off, but there was a feeling of being watched creeping across the back of his neck and he couldn’t make it leave.
“Stupid,” he said, walking from the hallway into the kitchen. He turned the lights on in there too, half expecting to see someone stood there waiting for him, waiting to finish the job, but found he was alone. Just as he had been for the past three years. Now, there was a bleak thought he could definitely do without.
He headed upstairs and grabbed his laptop, bringing it downstairs and setting it on the dining table. He boiled the kettle and made himself a cup of tea, setting himself up with a bag of frozen peas in a tea towel to ease the ache in his right hand.
Zoe had given him an idea, enough of an idea that instead of going to bed and getting a decent night’s rest before having to go back to hunting down Jennifer Berry’s killer tomorrow, he was trawling through Craig’s social media profiles. Even as he did it, he felt wrong, like he was spying on somebody, looking at something he shouldn’t have been looking at.
He checked the tagged photos, where there were photos of him and Craig together, their holiday in Germany, their holidays across other parts of Europe, cosy nights in and ridiculous nights out. He fell down a rabbit hole of memories that culminated in Craig’s friends, seeing if any one of them had a recent photo with him, wondering which one to reach out to, if any.
He landed on Craig’s sister, Andrea. They had been fairly close. In fact it had been Andrea who had told him that Craig had gone missing. It seemed like she was also the last person in that family who still believed Craig was alive.
He started to type out a message to her, trying not to be too maudlin, trying to make it seem that it was more for a catch up than it was for anything else but he didn’t quite know who he was trying to fool. He asked her if she had seen him, or if she too had given up looking for him like everybody else.
He read it back and pressed send, staring at the screen as the message vanished, the little tick sitting next to it to show it had been delivered. He debated watching it to see if it was enough of an enticement to bring her online. But that just felt too sad, even for him.
Kidd downed his cup of tea and sat back in the chair. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror, of the state that Joe Warrington had made to his face. It would only look worse in the morning.
And then another thought crossed his mind.
He started to search for Joe Warrington. Nothing had been put up since earlier that day, rumours and conjecture about what was going on, about how the police were handling it. It was enough to make Kidd want to reply, or at least to tell him that he was wrong, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good.
He found his way to Joe’s Instagram and started to scroll through it. It was mostly pictures of Joe with minor celebrities, at crime scenes every now and again, the captions often reading BREAKING NEWS and wanting people to go to a link in his bio.
But then Kidd saw something that made his blood run cold. There was a picture of Joe Warrington standing next to one of their witnesses, Lydia Coles, the two of them mid-laugh, a candid photo of the two of them looking stupidly joyful some two months ago.
Every person that Hansen killed was someone known to him.
If that’s the pattern he’s following, Lydia could be in trouble, and they needed to act fast.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
He fished his keys out of his pocket on his way to the door, the jangling was too loud, ripping through his head in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He felt light-headed from the run, his stomach hurting where he’d been hit, his ankle still giving him trouble even after all these weeks. He shouldn’t have been running, but he had to. He hadn’t expected the old DI to have anything in him, not after what he’d seen.
The house was deathly quiet. Something he was glad of. He quietly closed the door, not wanting to wake anyone else up, and snuck upstairs.
His heart was still pounding even as he made his way into his room. He shut the door, throwing off his hoodie and pressing a hand to his side. He winced as a stab of pain rushed through his body.
“Jesus,” he grunted. He pulled the knife from the waistband of his joggers. He hadn’t planned to use it, that was what he told himself, he only planned to have it just in case.
Just in case what?
He didn’t know the answer to that question.
There was a stirring along the landing. He froze, staring at the door, half expecting it to open, for someone to come in and tell him that he’d been found out.
But nothing came and he exhaled.
The DI was making him skittish. He was chomping at his heels, getting closer to finding him out, and he couldn’t let that happen. Action needed to be taken. And it needed to be taken now.
He waited for the house to go quiet, tucked the knife back in his waistband, and left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Kidd woke up late, a lot later than planned, but his social media rabbit hole had taken him into the wee small hours and he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. Hardly the best start to the day.
He drove to the station, parking up next to Zoe despite all the spare spaces because he knew it would piss her off. Just a little game to play.
“What on earth happened to your face?” Diane exclaimed as he walked through the front door. There were a couple of people waiting on the chairs opposite the front desk who looked up in alarm, one of them wincing as they caught sight of Kidd. He looked at his reflection in one of the windows. He hadn’t thought it looked too bad, all things considered.
“I got elbowed,” Kidd said. “Remember? I came in looking a wreck with DS Sanchez, blood everywhere.”
“I remember,” Diane said with a roll of her eyes. “I just didn’t think it would look this bad. Should you be here?”
Kidd laughed. “I’ve got to be, Diane. You know me, no rest for the wicked.”
“No rest, period,” she corrected. “You work too hard.”
“Got to keep the old brain ticking over somehow,” he said. “Have a good day!”
He beeped himself through the door and headed straight for the Incident Room, surprised to see that DC Campbell and DC Ravel had already arrived.
“You’re early!” Kidd said as he walked in the door, hanging his coat up. “Something wrong?”
“Yeah,” Owen said. “There’s a killer on the loose, don’t you—” he stopped as he looked at Kidd and took in the state of his face. “What happened to you?”
“A child beat him up,” Zoe said from her desk. She was shovelling a croissant into her mouth like she hadn’t eaten in a week.
“It wasn’t a child,” Kidd corrected. “We went to see Colin Hansen last night and when I tried to grab hold of Joe Warrington to bring him in for questioning, he swung back and elbowed me in the nose.”
“So that’s why you didn’t come back,” Owen said, leaning in a little closer. “Christ, he really did a number on you. Proper got you.”
Kidd shrugged. “Yeah, I know, it bloody hurt,” he said. “Zoe had me go to the hospital. Did you find out much about Jennifer Berry?”
“What?” Kidd asked.
“The dad didn’t take it well, sir,” Campbell said. “Properly broke down. Family liaison is going there again this morning to try and keep him together.”
“Reckon he’s up to be questioned?”
“I’d say no, sir.”
Kidd shook his head. “Not the answer I’m looking for, Campbell, want to try again.”
“If you’re sensitive, sir.”
“I’m always sensitive, Campbell. I’m not you,” Kidd said.
“What are we doing about Warrington?” Zoe asked, dumping her croissant packet and coffee cup into the bin. She wiped the crumbs from her mouth as he approached. “He still your prime suspect?”
“Wait, when did he become the prime suspect?”
“Keep up, Campbell,” Zoe said, with a wink. “We went to see Colin Hansen last night, turns out the kid has been asking him a lot of questions about the murders over the past couple of weeks. Now he’s using it for leverage on his social media sites and things, but before that, he wanted a lot of detail from Hansen.”
“So, you think he’s our guy?” Campbell asked.
“And there’s one more thing,” Kidd said. “I was doing a little bit of digging on Joe’s social media last night—”
“After we left?” Zoe interrupted. “Kidd, take a fucking night off, Jesus!”
“Look, it helped alright?” he snapped. “There’s a picture of Joe and Lydia together, all smiles, acting foolish, and now I’m pretty worried about her. Campbell, I emailed you a link to the post, can you get it printed and up on the board.”
DC Campbell walked away and started tapping away at his computer, the printer kicking into life and spitting out the photo that Kidd had found himself staring at last night. He looked at it carefully, at their smiling faces, at Lydia who had seemed so frightened when they’d gone to see her yesterday.