“Yes?”
“Delivery of flowers for Miss Field.”
Poppy’s mouth curled into a smile. She pressed the door release and waited. Joe had never sent her flowers before. What sort? Maybe roses. A knock came at the door behind her and Poppy pulled it open.
Oh God. I am so stupid.
Joe hadn’t changed that much. He hadn’t thought of flowers. Poppy faced two big guys wearing dark clothes and no box of chocolates in sight. Only a gun. Before she could even think of doing anything, they were in the apartment. One wrapped beefy arms around her and the other held a gun to her head. The cold metal pressed so hard into her temple Poppy was forced to turn her head into the guy’s shoulder.
She didn’t fight. No point. The arms were as solid steel as the gun. She waited, the police side of her brain gathering and processing information, the girly side wishing she was wearing underwear and had been to the loo because she was fairly certain they wouldn’t let her take a bathroom break.
“Cup of tea?” Poppy asked.
The guy holding the gun snorted. “Get dressed.”
The arms released her. Not panicking was important. Breathing was important too, and Poppy gulped air into her lungs. Both guys followed her into the bedroom. As she fumbled her way into her clothes, showing not an inch more flesh than she needed, she tried to come up with a plan. “How to get away from two big guys and a gun.” Poppy fastened her shoes. She’d come up with a great title, but the flood of brilliant ideas didn’t follow.
A little flame in her heart flickered for a moment. Maybe she wasn’t meant to get away. Maybe she was supposed to die so she could be with Joe. A slow smile built into a grin.
“What is it with you, you crazy bitch?” the guy with the gun said. “This isn’t funny.”
“Sorry.”
“Why aren’t you frightened?”
“You’re not very scary.” Poppy hoped they didn’t notice her wobbling knees. “You remind me of oversized teddy bears.”
“We’re fucking hit men,” said the guy with the solid steel arms.
“Ruthless,” added the guy with the gun.
“Well, you look cuddly,” Poppy said, not meaning a word of it.
“We’re not.”
Then Poppy discovered they were right. They weren’t cuddly at all.
* * * * *
Joe found no one in the squad room. No one alive anyway, only a gaunt Mal who looked as pale as the paperwork he ploughed through.
“Has Keith been in?” Joe asked.
“Not today.”
Joe perched on the edge of Mal’s desk. “I think I’ve worked out what it is I have to do.”
Mal looked up. For a moment, Joe thought he saw envy in his face, but then Mal slipped back to his dour blankness.
“I have to save Poppy from Buxton,” Joe said. “Maybe you don’t—”
“They talk about it in here every now and again. Bit of a scuffle on the roof of a warehouse, you were shot and fell. Your girlfriend tried to pull you back, but almost ended up going over with you. Did you let go of her?”
That would have been the right thing to do, but that hadn’t been what Joe had done. He gulped.
“It was an accident, Mal. I’ve told Poppy that.”
“Told her?” Mal’s eyes looked as though they were going to pop out of his head. “You can talk to her? Bloody hell, I wondered why you’d gone gray so fast. How’s the pain? Bad?”
Joe nodded. He felt like there was something alive inside him, moving through his body, squeezing his organs.
Mal stared straight at him. “If you avoid interaction with the living, this gray limbo can go on for a long time without intense pain and fading. Section Forty-Three in the manual.”
“There’s a fucking manual?”
Mal nodded. “Your deterioration has speeded up because you’re messing around with Poppy.”
Joe groaned. Something else Desiree had neglected to tell him. Why hadn’t she given him the manual? He sighed. Joe knew why. He wouldn’t have read it.
“You might end up failing if you run out of time,” Mal said.
“Failing? What happens then?”
Mal shuddered. Joe had to stop himself rubbing his head to check for emerging horns.
“I did hear one thing.” Mal pushed back on his swivel chair. “Does Poppy live in Greenwich?”
Joe stood up. “Why?”
“Keith was talking to someone on his mobile last night. He thought he was on his own. Well, he was.” Mal chuckled. “She live on Branton Road?”
“Shit.” Joe’s fingers curled into his palms.
“After you died, Keith let the case go. The word was that Buxton had gone abroad. The file’s still active, just about, but I’ve never seen anyone doing much.”
Joe stared at Mal and saw what he was telling him beyond the words.
“I don’t know anything for sure,” Mal said. “But Keith’s bought a new car, some fancy convertible. He said an aunt had died. She hadn’t.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
“It’s not that easy. I can’t leave notes or tell anyone. Anyway, it’s your case, Joe. It’s been waiting for you.”
“How can I protect her?” Joe whispered, half to himself.
“You probably can’t.”
Joe pretended he hadn’t heard that.
Joe got back to Greenwich in record time. It was a good thing he couldn’t be killed because he didn’t stop for red lights and rode straight through three buses, two black cabs and an ice-cream van. He arrived in time to see long, slender legs struggling as they were bundled into the back of the BMW Joe had thought was there to protect her. He was a fucking idiot. His heart pounded as he followed the vehicle to the main road. A few seconds later, and he’d have lost her.
He stayed on the car’s bumper, relieved he didn’t have to hide what he was doing. Not having to concentrate on remaining unobserved gave him chance to think. Joe couldn’t touch anyone, couldn’t drag Poppy to safety. He couldn’t call for help. The only thing he could do was be with her and talk to her, maybe help her talk her way out of trouble. Joe’s mouth was so dry he couldn’t swallow. He had to come up with something because Poppy wouldn’t talk herself out of trouble, but deeper into it.
After a few miles Joe knew where they were heading. Back to Hackney, to the place where he’d died. As soon as the car pulled up, Poppy came out fighting and Joe felt proud of her and scared for her at the same time. She was a ball of fury, arms flailing, feet kicking and even though Joe knew he couldn’t do anything, he flung himself in and fell straight through the mêlée. Poppy froze when she saw him. Joe lay on his back, one of Poppy’s assailant’s feet planted in his chest. He gave her a little smile.
The guy stepped out of Joe, grabbed Poppy’s wrists and yanked them behind her back. “Stupid bitch.”
She was dragged into the warehouse and Joe scrambled after her. Jethro Buxton waited inside.
“You’d better not have marked her,” Buxton said.
“Gave her a little tap on the head to shut her up,” said the guy holding Poppy.
Joe aimed a futile kick at the guy’s balls. Poppy snorted.
Buxton stepped right up to her. “What the fuck is so funny?”
Poppy looked straight at him. “Joe kicked one of your goons in the nuts.”
“Poppy, keep quiet,” Joe said.
“Joe Dalziel?” Buxton gaped at her. “Are you crazy? He’s dead.”
“Yes, but he’s here. He’s an angel.”
Buxton roared with laughter. “Oh, this is great. This is perfect. You’re fucking crazy. No jury would have believed you anyway.”
“You tried to kill him,” Poppy said.
Buxton sneered at her. “And you did kill him, sweetheart. You pushed him off the roof. Saved me having to do it.”
“Joe knows it wasn’t my fault.”
Poppy turned from Buxton to look at him. Joe saw in her eyes how much she loved him and he thought maybe
the old chestnut about hearts breaking was true. The pain in his chest was crippling him.
Buxton nodded at his men. “Take her up to the roof.”
Poppy gave Joe a little smile but he could see her teeth chattering with fear. He raced up ahead, trying to think if there was anything he could do to stop them. They all moved through him, including Poppy, and stepped out into the sunshine.
“Poppy,” Joe whispered.
“It’s okay,” she said.
“No, it fucking isn’t okay. This isn’t supposed to happen. I can’t let you die.” Joe felt frantic. Adrenaline powered through him as his mind raced to find a solution. “Poppy, tell him that you’ll work for him from inside the police.”
They dragged her towards the edge, her heels leaving lines in the roof gravel.
“Tell him,” Joe screamed.
“How about I work for you?” Poppy gasped. “I could tell you if the police were planning a raid.”
“And how would you manage that, PC Plod? The Met keep you informed of their operations, do they?” Buxton chortled. “You’re of no use to me alive. Much more use dead.”
Joe knew at that moment it was over. There was nothing he could do. Buxton was going to kill her and Joe would have to watch.
Buxton strolled in a circle around Poppy and the men holding her. “Very sad,” he said. “I know you’ve been seeing the shrink, though I hadn’t actually thought you were imagining Joe was still with you. What’s wrong? Can’t get over the fact that you shoved your boyfriend off the roof—this very roof?” He peered over the side. “Long way down. Seems fitting that you kill yourself at the same spot. Sorry about this. Nothing personal.”
Joe bellowed with rage and frustration.
Poppy couldn’t believe how calm she felt. She’d been scared to the point that she’d have collapsed it they hadn’t been holding her but now she felt quite serene. Joe was a whirling dervish, racing around the roof, lashing out and connecting with nothing. Her heart pounded, but Poppy didn’t feel as though she teetered on the point of death. As long as she could keep delaying things, there was always a chance.
“How’s your mum?” she asked Buxton.
The man raised his eyebrows. “Very sick.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. My mum died five years ago after a long illness. I still miss her.”
“Not for much longer,” Buxton said and winked.
Poppy shuddered. He nodded at the guys holding her and they pulled her closer to the edge. Joe was going frantic. Poppy felt bad for him.
“Do you mind telling me one thing?” she asked Buxton.
“What?”
“How long has Joe’s partner—Keith Worth—how long has he been working for you? Since before Joe went undercover?”
That stopped Joe moving. He stared at Buxton.
“Not going to do any harm to tell you now. I know how coppers’ minds work and I don’t mind satisfying your curiosity since you’re not going to be telling anyone else. Worth came to see me with an offer I couldn’t refuse. For a handful of filthy lucre he told me they planned to put an undercover cop in my organization. Well worth the money. I always thought Keith was well named.” Buxton laughed.
Poppy didn’t. Joe still hadn’t moved.
“When we came to get the kids’ ball, what made you shoot Joe?” she asked.
“What I saw in his eyes for a fleeting moment—recognition, annoyance, affection.”
Now Joe’s face held despair, bleak with helplessness. Poppy wished she could hug him.
“Can I jump?” she asked. “Not be pushed. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to fly. Might as well have a second or two of that.”
Buxton glanced at his watch. “Yeah, okay but don’t take all day about it.”
The men let go of her and Poppy shook her arms before walking to the edge. She looked down. Shit, it was a long way. And there were no police cars in sight. She’d had her mobile phone on all the way here in the car, and it was in her pocket now, still transmitting, but it looked like it hadn’t worked. There was no one racing to the rescue. Poor Joe was going to have to go through what she went through.
Poppy turned to face Buxton. “I’m going to run along the edge and then jump, okay?”
“Don’t make a fucking song and dance about it. Just do it.”
Poppy turned to Joe and tried to give him her “don’t worry, everything will be all right” smile. It didn’t work. He looked like he was going to throw up.
“No.” His voice was almost inaudible.
Poppy leaned forward and kissed where his lips should be. “I love you.” She had to say it that third time, even if Joe couldn’t bring himself to say the same to her. She waited for a couple of seconds, but Joe didn’t speak. His mouth opened but nothing came out. Poppy’s heart clenched in pain.
“It’s okay,” she said. “It doesn’t matter that you can’t say it. I know you love me.” That had to be enough. “Bye, Joe.”
Poppy turned and ran down the edge of the roof, sprinting as fast as she could and then leapt on to the ledge before launching herself off the side.
Chapter Twelve
Joe’s wings shot out in an instant and he flew after her, diving straight over the lip of the building, instinctively drawing back his feathers to drop faster and he saw at once what she was doing. Poppy had flung herself towards an old fire escape that sat at the far end of the roof. Joe swooped down, knowing he couldn’t catch her and hating himself for not telling her that he loved her.
For a long moment, Joe was sure Poppy wouldn’t make it, that she’d fall short and plummet to the ground, but one beautiful hand snatched life from death, and grabbed a rail. He gasped as she swung out and then crashed back into the stairs with a bone-jarring thump.
“Pull yourself up,” Joe shouted, flapping his wings in an attempt to maintain a hover. He shot up and down like a yoyo.
He could see her trying, but her fingers were slipping on the flaking metal.
“Don’t you dare fall,” he yelled.
Poppy’s other hand reached up to grip one of the stair treads and her fingers sank into holes in the metal design. Joe breathed a sigh of relief. With two hands anchored she stood a better chance.
“Swing yourself up,” he said.
Joe spun around when he heard a noise at his ear. He looked up. The bastards were firing at her.
“Poppy, hurry.”
Joe knew it would do no good, but he still positioned himself between her and the bullets. “Poppy, pull yourself up. Do it.” He sighed when her leg looped over a strut. Another two bullets pinged off the metal and then several police cars pulled into the yard below. Poppy scrambled through on to the stairs and lay facedown. Joe could see her shaking. Then he realized it wasn’t Poppy shaking, but the whole decrepit fire escape. The thing only reached halfway down the building. She had to climb up.
“Poppy you have to get off this, now.”
“I can’t move.”
She had every finger wrapped so tightly around the rusting metal, her hands looked skeletal. Her eyes were closed. Down below Joe saw officers apprehend two men, neither of whom were Buxton.
“Poppy, shout and tell them there were three guys,” Joe said. “Buxton’s going to get away. Tell them he’s armed.”
“Are you okay?” someone called to her from the ground.
“There’s a third man,” Poppy yelled. “He has a gun.”
The structure she sprawled on shifted and Poppy whimpered.
“Hang on, we’ve called the fire brigade.”
“Oh fuck, not again,” she groaned.
Joe’s eyes were fixed on the rattling brackets holding the steps into the side of the building. Even Poppy’s breathing seemed to disturb them. It swayed ominously.
“Poppy, you have to get off this bloody thing now. You can’t wait for the fire brigade. Don’t go down. You have to go up.”
“I’m too scared to move.”
“You can do this. Two flights of
steps and you’re back on the roof.”
She opened her eyes. Joe hovered as close as he could get.
“Do it for me. I don’t want you to die.”
He gave her a little smile and kept beating his wings. Joe was tiring now. There was more to this than mere flapping.
“If I die, I can be with you,” she whispered.
“If you wanted to die you wouldn’t have leaped for this fire escape.”
“Ha, got me there.”
There was a shout from below and Joe looked down to see Buxton in handcuffs. He turned back to Poppy.
“Anyway, who says we’d end up together? Maybe I’d have my white wings and you’d be stuck with gray ones. It could take you years to find out how to earn yours. You know how easily you’re distracted. Now get off this fucking fire escape right now.”
There was a loud creak and Poppy shot up the steps. The structure teetered away from the wall of the warehouse and she jumped. Joe landed at her side as Poppy fell in a crumpled heap on the roof. They stared at each other while the sound of metal creaking and groaning, then falling and crashing filled the air. Followed by silence.
“What do you mean I’m easily distracted?” asked Poppy.
“There’s a spider on your neck.”
Poppy screeched and scrambled backwards. When Joe began to laugh, she glared at him. Then her face fell.
“What’s the matter?” he asked as he stood up.
“Your wings.”
Joe shook the roof gravel off his feathers. “What about them? Hey, did you see me fly? Hovering! I bet no one else could do that in the first week.”
“They’re still gray.”
He looked down. “So they are. I guess that means getting Buxton into custody and saving your life weren’t the keys either.”
But Joe wondered if he’d finally figured out what was.
Joe smiled as Poppy struggled to convince the detective in charge of the operation she didn’t need to go to hospital. She was shaken and had a few scrapes from the gravel but Joe knew she didn’t want to be apart from him. She couldn’t get out of going to make a statement at the police station. Although the incident had led to the capture of a wanted felon, the celebration was muted. The fact that a fellow officer had been working for the other side left a poisonous taste in everyone’s mouth. They told Poppy that Keith had been arrested. It had been about money. It always was, Joe thought.
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