She’d learned that she had an aptitude for digging for information. When given a task, a path to that information lit up in her mind like a route planner. She enjoyed the analysis of a problem and could just as easily work alone as with company.
She’d learned that the boss was passionate, intuitive, driven and maybe a little bit rebellious. Stacey had felt a seedling of respect for the woman when she’d been sent away from the gruesome sight of Luke Fenton. She had wanted to repay that gesture by returning and showing the boss that she wasn’t a quitter. She had seen the brief smile of acknowledgment upon her return to the crime scene and her regard for the woman had begun right then.
The events of the week had done nothing to detract from that and what Dawson had told her in the car about his night at the Travelodge at the boss’s expense had simply blown her away. Somehow, she knew that information would never have come from her.
Additionally, she had learned that Kevin Dawson wasn’t the arsehole she had thought he was. If she was talking scoring systems she’d thought ten on the dickheadometer and he was most likely a nine. But still it was a tiny improvement.
Once the boss and Bryant had headed off to prepare for the interview of the hairdresser, Dawson had offered to drive her home. She’d refused but he’d insisted.
And finally she’d learned that she would give her left arm for the opportunity to remain with this team. It wasn’t a perfect group of people. She knew that. The boss wasn’t exactly warm and nurturing. She lacked social skills and had to be reminded that folks needed to go home. Bryant was steady and reliable but not what she’d call dynamic. Although a knife to the throat hadn’t sent him scarpering for home at the earliest opportunity. He had continued to do his job and for that she admired him. Dawson was an arrogant and cocky so and so, but despite his personal problems had managed to get into work every day and stay until he was told to go. He had shown commitment and he didn’t even know it himself.
Yes, it had been one hell of a week. The job, like the people, had been a challenge but she knew so much more than she did four days ago.
She wanted more weeks like this. She wanted to continue to learn from these people and only hoped she would be given the chance.
Chapter One Hundred Thirteen
Dawson eased the car onto the drive of the house he shared with Ally. He turned off the engine and sat for a moment. Although he’d never really believed in God he did believe in fate when it suited him and he had decided to trust in it tonight.
Whatever the time of day or night, Ally always seemed to know when he parked on the drive. He had no idea how because the bedroom they shared was at the back of the house. They had forsaken the additional space in the master bedroom for the privacy of the back which looked out onto an empty field. Both of them liked to sleep naked and both of them liked the curtains left open.
He had once lain on the bed when she’d been due home and he hadn’t heard a thing from the front of the house, yet somehow she always knew when he had arrived home.
It had been two weeks since he’d walked out of this house in a fit of rage and there had been some surprises for him in that time.
Little had he known how his old team felt about him. He had thought they were a close-knit bonded group yet not one of them had called him since Gary’s outburst to declare their disagreement with his opinion. Which told him one thing. They all felt the same way.
Initially he had put it down to jealousy and there was still a part of him that thought they were envious of his skills, but despite his best efforts some of the things Gary had said had stayed with him. Maybe he did try and pass along jobs he found less interesting and perhaps he didn’t make as many coffees as the next guy, but he was a damn good detective and he knew it.
Other surprises had come from his new boss who shouted him a night at the Travelodge. He understood that she didn’t want the embarrassment of one of her team members spending another night on the car park but in truth it was the best night of sleep he’d had in weeks. No lumpy sofas, no musty, dubious smelling pillows pulled from the back of airing cupboards, no angry partners giving him shit in the morning. Just a hot shower and a decent breakfast which had set him up for the day.
Unlike the night he’d spent at Lou’s. As he remembered it the colour flooded into his cheeks and he wished he could take that back. The sour feeling returned to his stomach every time he thought about what he’d done. As Gary had pointed out, he wasn’t averse to using people but he had treated Lou in the worst possibly way. He had danced all over her emotions to get a bed for the night. It wasn’t the proudest moment of his week. Neither was his attempt to belittle DS Bryant at the beginning of the case.
In truth, he still thought the bloke was a bit of a plodder but the man had been on his knees with a knife at his throat earlier that evening and still come back to work to interview the culprit. Fair play to him. Dawson had changed his opinion of the man just a little bit.
Even the young, green detective constable wasn’t as bad as he’d originally thought. A couple of times during the week she’d shown a bit more spirit than her continually beaming face reflected and he liked it. He had no time for pushovers or doormats.
But his most drastic change in opinion was for the boss. Initially, he’d thought he could play her, outwit her, find her weaknesses to exploit and aggravate like scratching an angry boil. He now knew that there wasn’t a morning he could get up early enough to pull that one off. She had surprised him at every turn. She’d remained silent when he’d expected rage. She’d blown up at him when he’d expected silence and she had paid for a bed for the night when he’d expected to be thrown off the team.
But right before she’d headed off to prepare for interview, she’d hesitated beside his desk.
‘Good work on the nursery rhymes, Dawson.’
He was glad she’d gone by the time the smile had formed on his face.
It was then that he’d realised this wouldn’t be a bad place to settle for a while. Not that he’d get a chance to try it, he reasoned. The boss would be summoned to meet DCI Woodward on Monday morning for an evaluation of the team. He knew full well that he would be transferred to another squad. She wouldn’t keep him and he couldn’t blame her. The work on the nursery rhymes was too little too late. He felt genuinely sorry. It could have been a good team to be a part of but he’d shot himself in both feet.
And was he about to do that again? Was he really going to base his future on whether the downstairs light came on? Was he truly going to wait for fate to decide if he and Ally had a chance?
No, he wasn’t.
He got out of the car and let himself into the house.
As he entered the lounge he knew she was already sitting there. In the dark. Waiting to see what he would do. Come in or run away. Again.
‘You’re up?’ he said, switching on the light.
She sat at one end of the sofa, dressed only in an ivory dressing gown, her legs curled to the side. Her blonde hair was ruffled from the pillow, her face clear of make-up. His heart missed a beat. It was how he loved her the most.
She said nothing. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.
‘Ally, I—’
‘What are you doing here, Kev?’ she asked, her eyes full of emotion. He tried to read them all, anger, disappointment, regret and something else he couldn’t read. ‘You run out of places to crash for the night?’
Any honesty there would not help the cause.
‘I wanted to see you,’ he offered, sounding lame to his own ears.
‘Why? Do you want to carry on the argument we were having? You remember accusing me of trying to trap you into marriage right after you asked me if I’d deliberately forgotten to take my pill?’
Ah, that’s the emotion he was missing; hurt.
Regardless, he felt his own jaw tightening at her tone. This wasn’t how he’d imagined his homecoming.
‘Give me some latitude here, Ally. I was in shock at the—’
‘I’m here now,’ he said, trying to keep his temper. Did she not see what he was trying to do?
‘Don’t do me any favours, Kev,’ she snapped. ‘We don’t need you in our lives if this is how you’re going to react.’
When had she become a we? he wondered, as though battle lines had been drawn.
‘I’m the child’s father,’ he said.
She nodded. ‘There’s no doubt about that and I’m keeping your child regardless of any decision you have to make or process you have to work through. I’ve done that already, alone.’
Dawson began to realise that his return was not the slam dunk he had thought it would be. He had thought a smile and a hug and a few sorrys would make things right. He had fucked up big.
And right there in that second he knew that he did not want to lose this woman or their unborn child. He had been a fool of the biggest kind in not even realising how much he valued what was right in front of him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and meant it. He was sorrier for more than she knew but that could come later. ‘I shouldn’t have run away. It was the shock,’ he said, glancing down to her stomach.
‘You think I wasn’t surprised?’ she asked, quietly.
He had said some terrible things because secretly he had blamed her, wondered if she’d done something to trap him into fatherhood.
‘I know and I’m sorry for all the things I said,’ he offered, stepping towards the sofa. He sat down. She didn’t move away. ‘I panicked because despite all the bravado I know what kind of man I am. I know I’m arrogant and selfish, self-centred. I didn’t know if I was ready for the responsibility of another life, to have that life reliant on me. All I saw ahead was failure on my part. Failure for you and for our child.’
‘You do know that’s a perfectly normal reaction, don’t you?’ she asked, inspecting her hands.
He could hear the emotion in her voice and was desperately sorry for the hurt he’d caused. He’d left her to deal with everything alone.
He took her hand and she let him.
‘I love you, Ally, and I know I’ll love our child. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect but I want to be a part of this small family if you’ll let me.’
All week he’d been faced with child abuse, suffering, fear and he now knew that these were not feelings he ever wanted a child of his to experience. And he could only protect the child if he was around.
But, that was it. He’d said his piece. He’d told her the truth. Most of it. Would she forgive him and allow him to be a part of her and their child’s life?
The tentative smile that began in her eyes told him that maybe he had a chance.
Chapter One Hundred Fourteen
Bryant hesitated before knocking on the door. He wasn’t sure if this was appropriate or not but he felt it was a conversation he needed to have.
He was glad of the day off today. He hadn’t slept much. Every time he’d closed his eyes he’d felt the sensation of the cool metal at his neck. Once he opened his eyes the panic went away.
Jenny had woken and asked him if everything was okay when he’d climbed into bed at 4 a.m. but he hadn’t had the heart to keep her awake to recount the events of the evening. He would talk to her about it later, but that wasn’t why he was here. There was something else that needed to be cleared up.
The door opened and two things hit him at once. The look of surprise on her face and the smell of burning behind her.
‘Sorry to come to your home, guv, but…’
‘Everything okay?’ she asked, stepping aside for him to enter.
‘Yeah, I just need a word, privately.’
‘And you couldn’t have managed that during the lifetime we’ve spent together in your car this week?’
Maybe he’d called this wrong and he shouldn’t have come here, but a quick glance at her face told him she wasn’t angry. He’d seen that look enough times to know.
‘I won’t keep you long but what the hell is that smell?’ he asked, following her through a sparsely decorated lounge to the kitchen. A small round dining table was covered in newspaper and parts of an exhaust.
She lifted the lid on the bin at the side of the breakfast bar. ‘Scones.’
He glanced inside and saw a pile of black, flat, disc-shaped objects that would have looked more at home on a hockey pitch.
‘You sure?’
She shrugged. ‘They wanted to be.’
‘Not a natural cook, eh, guv?’
‘Hate cooking,’ she said, holding up the coffee pot. ‘And I’m shit at it.’
He nodded as he glanced back at the bin. ‘Err… so why do it?’ he asked. He hated mowing the lawn so avoided it at every opportunity. And scones were not a difficult thing to get hold of.
‘Because I’m shit at it. I’ll master it someday.’
Somehow he was not surprised by the response.
She reached into the top cupboard. ‘Mugs only, I’m afraid.’
‘Mug is fine,’ he said, wondering how to start the conversation. He took a breath. ‘Look, guv, I need…’
‘Kim,’ she said.
‘Yeah, guv, it’s just…’
‘Kim,’ she repeated.
He frowned and she met his gaze as she pushed a mug of coffee towards him. ‘I’m not at work. I’m in my home. It’s Kim not guv.’
He wasn’t sure he would ever be comfortable calling her by her first name.
‘But call me Kim at work and I’ll have you transferred.’
He hesitated.
‘Jeez, that was a joke.’
He knew her angry face very well. He clearly needed more practice on judging her jokey face.
She picked up her own drink. ‘This about what happened last night?’
He shook his head. ‘It’s about the promotion thing. Me going for DI.’
‘It’s never too late,’ she said, standing back and folding her arms. He appreciated the gesture but the doubt in her voice was obvious. He had tried twice and failed both times.
‘But that’s the thing, guv… sorry, Kim. I don’t bloody want it.’
She frowned. ‘Go on.’
‘The last two DIs I’ve worked with have kind of pushed me into going for it and I’m ashamed to say I’ve let them. But the thing is I like the work I do. I like being part of a team but I don’t want to run a team. I love my job and I like to think I do it well. I’m not cut out to be a DI and I’m getting a bit sick of trying to explain that.’
He knew that everyone in the force who had responsibility for other team members was required to encourage them up the ladder, to fulfil their potential, but he had come to realise that he was perfectly happy where he was. He was sick of being pushed into applying for a role to satisfy someone else’s team management objectives. And he wanted to make sure she understood.
‘It’s just…’
‘Consider it explained,’ she said, holding up her hand. ‘But quite honestly, Bryant, I have no clue what’s happening with this team. I have a 7 a.m. meeting with Woody on Monday to discuss it.’
He felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. Despite the fact that the week had ended with him on his knees with a knife to his throat, he thought it had been a reasonable week. He wouldn’t mind another few just like it, but right now he’d just relax and enjoy the weight that had lifted from his mind.
He glanced around the kitchen and back into the lounge. Not one Christmas decoration or fairy light in sight and the main event was only six days away.
‘You going away for the?…’
‘I don’t do Christmas. Hate it. I’m on call. I take it every year.’
He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d never met anyone who didn’t do Christmas in one form or another. He thought
back to the little he’d learned of her past and wondered just how much more there was to know. He knew one thing. If she didn’t tell him he’d remain in the dark, and somehow he didn’t think she was the confiding type.
‘Ha, missus would kill me if I volunteered. Plans it by the hour from present opening at eight in the morning to cold meat buffet at eight on Christmas night. There’s a programme of events on the kitchen…’
‘You’re kidding?’
He smiled. ‘Yeah, I’m probably worse than she is, truth be known. But I don’t drink, so although it’s more than my life is worth to volunteer myself, if I happened to get called out in an emergency, you know, it’d be fine.’
She met his gaze and understood. If she was called out and needed a second, he’d be there.
She took a sip of her coffee. ‘So, your wife know you’re visiting the homes of other women during the day?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, she told me to come and as I want to stay happily married there are few things she suggests that I don’t do.’
She laughed out loud. It was the first time he’d heard the sound. He liked it.
‘It’s not gonna become a habit though, is it, Bryant?’
He shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t think so, Kim.’
Chapter One Hundred Fifteen
DCI Woodward read through his page-a-day diary as he waited for his first meeting of the day.
List-making was a habit he’d formed early in his career. He liked to see things on paper, written down. Any task, however small, got noted and transferred to the master list in his diary. As he completed the tasks a satisfying line was drawn through the item and no shift was deemed complete until he had carried over the items not accomplished to the following day. It served many purposes not least of which it showed him any tasks he was either consciously or subconsciously avoiding by the number of times it had been transferred to the following day.
First Blood: A completely gripping mystery thriller (A Detective Kim Stone Novel) Page 25