“Oh shit...they’ll call the Pigs. Tommy’s gonna kill us...He’ll fuckin’ do for us both. You’d better ring him an’ tell him what’s happened, McCrae. This was your idea.”
“Fuck! Are you mad? I’m not gonna tell him we got chased by a bloke in a dress! Fuck away off. You can tell him if you want to but I’m away to the Elm for a pint an’ a woman. That’s gonna give me nightmares for a year, that is. A bloke in a fuckin dress! I need a reel woman, right now. An’ if you ever tell anyone what happened here the night, Coyler, I’ll fuckin’ kill you. Sure as shit I will.”
Chapter Twenty
By one in the morning Gerdy’s car was outside Stranmillis station, one officer studying its tax disc as another walked around it, scanning for faults. Tommy ignored them and sat in the passenger seat chain-smoking, until Craig nodded to let them go.
They pulled off at a scorch, heading for town, and Tommy quickly turned on his mobile. There were two messages. McCrae - they were tailing the nurse to the Sarajevo Club. What a picture, them two with the gay-boys. The second message was to ring Gerdy back, so he turned to his driver.
“An’ what did you hav to say, Gerdy?”
“Tommy, that wee shite Murray’s legged it.”
“What do you mean legged it?”
“He took off on the Larne-Cairnryan ferry a couple af hours ago. Musta heard you was mad at him, an’ knew what come next.”
“Spineless wee shite, not even hangin’ round for the funeral. An’ what about his kid? Well he’d better stay away for good, or till I’m dead anyway, ‘cos I’m gonna do for him.”
He took a therapeutic drag on his cigarette and exhaled, dismissing Murray instantly. “Forgit him tonight.”
Then his phone rang again - McCrae. Coyler had convinced Rory McCrae that they’d better tell Tommy about Beth, before the police did.
“What do you want, McCrae?”
Tommy listened in silence as the whole Sarajevo fiasco spewed out. His face got redder and redder until it was purple, and spittle gathered on his chin. His phone hand shook violently and his left hand knotted into a fist, until he finally exploded.
“You fuckin’ eejit, McCrae! Who told you to pick her up? What did I fuckin’ tell you? Just watch her an’ wait for my word. You stupid prick - fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Tommy thought rapidly. “You two dickheads better hide out tonight, an’ be at Windsor for twelve tomara. An’ you’d better make your wills, ‘cos I’m gonna fuckin’ kill the pair of you.”
He slammed the phone hard against the dashboard, until the froth at the side of his mouth finally seeped away and his breathing slowed. Then he turned to glare at Gerdy, who was staring straight ahead rigid with fear. Tommy was a killer and they all knew it.
“McCrae an’ Coyler’ was tailin’ the lezzy an’ they made a fuckin’ bollocks of it. One fuckin’ thing to do an’ they can’t even do that right. Now the Pigs will be after all of us. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His glare hardened and his low voice sank to a growl. “Did you know about this?”
“God, no - I was chasin’ Murray like you told me. I knew nothin, nothin. Honest to God, Tommy.”
“You’d better not have known, ‘cos if I find out that you did...” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. “Take me home an’ leave me the car. I want you to fally the blonde tomara morning, so nick another one then. I’m tailin’ Murdock again. It’ll be our last chance to see if they’re up to anythin’, cos the Pigs will be pickin’ us all up when the lezzy calls them.”
He sucked angrily on his cigarette and swore under his breath. “McCrae doped her, so she’ll be out for a few hours yet. I reckon we’ve most of tomara before they lift us, so we might as well be done for everythin’. That fucker Murdock’s not getting’ away scot-free. Meet us at Windsor at twelve. You can go back an’ fally the Doc again afterwards.”
His colour changed back to dark red as he thought again of the mess. “I’m fuckin’ gonna kill them both.”
***
The Visitor waited, but by two in the morning Murdock still hadn’t emerged from the hospital. Damn the father, damn all of them. It would have to wait, but only for tonight. He imagined the heady smell of sweat and fresh blood, and the heat rose in him again. With it the urge to cut grew stronger.
Tomorrow he would start. And if not Murdock, then another one of them would bleed. They would all bleed eventually.
***
Craig stayed at the station for a cup of coffee. He was still there at two, chatting with the night shift, when his mobile vibrated with a text. Who was texting him at this hour? Work always phoned him. It was probably a slow delivery from Lucia - it was always happening.
When he saw the name he was surprised. Julia. He was even more surprised by the content, when they’d only had dinner a few hours before. ‘I need to see you urgently.’ No smiley, her usual signature.
A myriad of thoughts flashed through his mind and none of them good. He abandoned his coffee and hurried to his car, for the five-minute journey to his riverside apartment. The light was on as he parked and he ran up the four flights of stairs, searching urgently for his keys. He dropped them noisily and winced, mindful that most people were already asleep, although not in the student streets he’d passed on his journey.
Before he could turn the lock his front door opened, and a small female hand shot out. It grabbed his jacket, pulling him firmly inside. Any fight or flight urges were tempered by the pair of full lips that locked softly onto his, and the long fine fingers stroking through his hair. Julia pulled back, looking at him intensely. Then keeping a firm hold of his hand, she drew him slowly towards the bedroom. Craig opened his mouth to say something, but was silenced with another kiss. The look in her eyes said that she was in no mood for discussion.
She led him into the softly lit bedroom, and with both hands pushed him down hard on his own large bed. Then she deftly removed his shirt and belt, and anything else that impeded her progress. Craig responded by flipping her over until he was looking down at her. Her hands moved slowly over his muscular chest, all the time her eyes saying ‘yes’.
He vaguely noticed music pulsing in the background. It was her favourite singer, Gabrielle. A track he recognised from a few years back, urging sex on the dance floor. She had set the scene, this was what she wanted, and finally she broke her silence. Reassuring him that he wasn’t to hesitate, that she’d been thinking about this since dinner. About his muscular arms, his tight tanned thighs. She needed this from him. This was her night.
All thoughts of work and worry and Tommy Hill and death instantly left him. All the tension of his father and court dissipated, and he lost himself in her smooth, soft skin as he took control. Leading and following, dominant and submissive, soft and hard and familiar. Until the sky lightened and they finally fell back together, into a deep, restful sleep.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sunday.
Daylight seeped through Katy’s curtains, waking her. She groped for the clock, confused about the time. Nine am. Not as early as she thought, but bad enough on a Sunday. She could hear Natalie bashing about in the bathroom, in her version of ‘being quiet’. She kept surgeons’ hours, so this was probably a lie-in for her. But with the amount of red wine they’d drunk last night, Katy hadn’t expected to see even her before lunch.
Her natural hostess kicked in and she dragged herself into a dressing gown. Opening the bedroom door just in time to see Natalie sneak down the hall, in what was probably her quietest tiptoe.
“Sorry Kate. Did I wake you? I have to go. I’ve work to do on my research paper. Owens wants to see it on Tuesday, so I need to get my skates on. Thanks for the Chinese. And keep me up to date with macho Craig and his merry men. Your life’s far more exciting than mine nowadays.”
Katy lied politely. “You didn’t wake me. It’s time I was up anyway. Do you have to go? If you fancy some breakfast we could go out for coffee and muffins.” She was praying for a refusal. Sleep was much more attractive than
any muffin.
“Nah - you go and get your beauty sleep.”
“I need to buzz you out the gate. Are you sure you’re sober enough to drive?”
“God yes – my body’s very efficient, I had a misspent youth. You’re a hopeless drinker, by the way, Stevens. No stamina at all. I don’t suppose you fancy lunch at Cutters Wharf about twelve? It looks like being a sunny day.”
“Only if I can drink water.”
“Wimp! OK, let me see how much headway I make with this paper and I’ll call you.” Then she laughed. “I sound just like a man. Sneaking out and saying I’ll call you.” They both smiled ruefully.
By the time Natalie reached her car, Katy was leaning sleepily out the window pointing the remote at the gate. It was a warm, hazy morning, and some excitable joggers were already running across the Albert Bridge, training for the May Marathon. Central Railway’s sign was visible in the distance. Although sometimes broken letters meant that it was ‘entral ‘ailway’ that people travelled on.
The usual row of cars was parked outside the apartments’ gates. Sunday shoppers saving on parking fees - preferring five minutes’ walk into town to a sixty pound ticket. She watched Natalie leave and then clambered back into bed headfirst, tossing up between breakfast and sleep. Sleep won.
***
The pink patterned duvet cover swirled violently in front of Beth’s eyes and she knew that she was going to be sick. She’d barely reached the bathroom before she retched repeatedly, until there was only bile coming. What time was it? The only thing she could remember was a cab collecting her at the nurses’ home, and then time evaporated. Kneeling over a toilet bowl wasn’t helping with her recall.
She glanced down at her knees and realised she was still wearing what she’d gone out in. Shit! She’d missed work. Sister Johns would eat her alive. Then she threw up again, not finished yet. Resting back on her ankles, she suddenly remembered that she was on ‘gardening leave’. The polite NHS term for ‘suspension, pending enquiries’. In this case, police enquiries.
Her head throbbed in vicious waves and the image of Evie hanging across the bed came back to her, with a force that put tears in her eyes. She buried her face in her hands as the week’s events ran through her mind like an old movie. Could I have stopped her dying? I shouldn’t have left her. I shouldn’t have left her alone.
***
The slide focused and then blurred, and John twisted the microscope’s dial angrily. Even science was letting him down now. He hadn’t slept all night, going over Craig’s words a hundred times in his head. He’d finally given up trying at five o’clock and driven to the lab, the only place in life where he felt one hundred percent safe. But he was too tired to work. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of things.
What if loving Natalie meant that he would always be a mess? Just more or less of one, depending on his emotions that day. He couldn’t work like this. He couldn’t live in this chaos. He needed to control his environment, not have it control him.
He slammed the slide down hard on the desk and it splintered into a prism. A thick shard of glass shaved off and pierced the palm of his hand, and he watched in numb fascination as his blood dripped onto the bench. Powerless to stem its flow, and more out of control than he’d been since he was a child.
***
Craig heard Julia tiptoeing around the kitchen and then the clink of mugs being set beside him. The soft sounds of Sunday filled the street outside, giving the time as late morning. He pressed his phone quickly. Eleven o’clock. He was shocked. He hadn’t slept so well for weeks. Then he remembered what had happened the night before and guilt overwhelmed him.
Not guilt that they’d made love - they’d done that plenty of times before. But guilt that he’d ruined their dinner the night before, when this was their first weekend together in weeks. He needn’t have worried.
Julia was holding a coffee towards him, with a soft smile that said she knew his thoughts. He opened his mouth to explain and she put a slim finger to his lips. “Shhh...Let me speak Marc. I have things to say.” He nodded and she removed her finger, while he sat, mute and surprised by it all. Then she started speaking quickly, tripping over the words, desperate to get them out.
“Thank you for coming home when I texted. I meant to say all this at dinner, but...but your father was ill, and then you were called away so urgently.” He felt a quick flash of guilt about his eagerness to leave the restaurant, and winced inwardly.
“I know you’re on an important case, so I was going to wait until my next trip to say this. But then I couldn’t sleep, and we’ve only got another day together.”
She hesitated and glanced away, her voice breaking. “Marc...I’m sorry, but things aren’t working for me long distance. Either...either something has to change, or...we need to stop seeing each other.”
Every emotion available ran through him. Relief that she’d mentioned the distance when he’d been thinking about it all week. And then guilt at his relief. Gratitude that she’d tackled things head-on, but vague pique that she mightn’t want him. And surprise at her complete self-control, last night and now.
She laughed weakly as the kaleidoscope of feelings crossed his face. “OK, let me just say this. You’re great, Marc. Nice, kind, sexy...all the good stuff.”
“But?”
“But you’re also a workaholic. You’re totally obsessed by your job, and I spend my days waiting for calls that never come. It’s just as well that I know you’re faithful or I might take it personally.” Her voice softened and she smiled. “But I know I’m not competing with anyone but your victims, and I can’t fault you for that.”
The job. As usual. A detective’s work got more attention than any woman did.
“I’ve been feeling this for weeks now, Marco. I love my job, but your work really comes first. It’s a wall between you and the rest of the world at times. The real world. The one where people don’t go around murdering each other and thinking of worse and worse ways to do it. And you’re just like John, you love it. It’s a game of cops and robbers for both of you.”
He went to say something and her finger closed his lips again. All at once he saw how sad her eyes were, and how dangerously close to tears.
“No, don’t stop me, please. The last thing I want is to stop seeing you, Marc, and I know how hard you work. But I can’t cope with us only being together the odd day here and there.”
Her voice broke and he could see that all her bravado was a front. Then she started again urgently, rushing through her words, as if stopping now would mean that they would never get said. “This distance and travel is killing me. I spend every day missing you. I need a real relationship now. I need to see you.”
She stopped, spent, and stared mutely at the floor. After a minute of silence he reached over and turned her face gently towards him. He stared into her soft blue eyes, willing her to hear his thoughts. And in that split second he knew exactly what he wanted her to hear. ‘I love you, Julia.’ He felt it with a certainty that he hadn’t felt for years. Too many years. Since Camille.
She was talking again, stumbling through the words in her high clear voice. “It...maybe it means I’m selfish...I don’t know...Is it selfish to want to be with you? Maybe...And I feel guilty for being demanding, because I know that you’re helping people. Helping find their killers, and making people safe ...but...”
Suddenly she sobbed and the brightness in her eyes became tears that ran gently down her cheeks and across her freckled nose. She wiped them away with her fist, like a child, and he reached out urgently and took her in his arms, kissing her softly on the lips.
She tried to talk on but he covered her lips firmly. Unable to bear her sad asking, for something that he should have given her already. Something she should never have had to ask for. He was angry with himself for his thoughtlessness and blind obsession.
He kissed her for a long time. Long enough to still her crying, and her words. Then he pu
lled away slowly and gazed at her vulnerability, saying the words that she was desperate to hear. “I love you, Julia. I really love you. And I want us to be together.”
Her tears flowed again as she laughed at him, astounded. Craig smiled at her, laughing at the fact that tears could mean so many different things. Then she climbed into bed beside him, kissing him softly, and they started to make plans for their future together.
***
The window was open onto the street and Katy pulled on her favourite shirt and jeans and sat beside it, shaking her long waves dry in the warm air. A single blue car was parked in the street below now and the joggers had completely disappeared. Gone for a muffin.
She left for Cutters Wharf at eleven-forty, already late, and pulled hurriedly out through the gate, missing the car start its engine to follow her. She was halfway to Stranmillis before she noticed that it was behind her. Maybe they were going to Cutters too? It was a popular venue. But she felt slightly edgy.
She found a space outside the bar, checking twice that she’d locked her doors, and scanned Lockview Road quickly just in case. There was no sign of the car and she laughed at her jitters. Paranoia. That’s what came from mixing with the police all week.
Lunch was a quiet, tea-total affair. They were both tired from the night before’s drinking and the MSG buzz from the takeaway. Finally even Natalie admitted that they weren’t nineteen anymore. She headed back to her research, leaving Katy with the luxury of a free afternoon. She knew that she should do her letters, but it had been a bad week, so she rang her mother instead.
“Hi Mum. I was going to nip up for a cup of tea. How would that be?”
“Lovely, dear. Whatever time you like.”
“Would you like anything brought in?”
“Just some milk.”
The Visitor (#3 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) Page 19