‘I’ve got a small problem.’
* * *
Aiden’s information turned out to be very good. Two women wearing pink tabards emblazoned with ‘Claire’s Cleaning’ logos, arrived thirty minutes later. ‘You should go out,’ one of them said, without preamble.
‘I’d rather stay,’ Lydia said, not even sure if that was true.
The woman shrugged. ‘You’re the boss, but the chemicals are very strong.’
Part of Lydia’s mind had been trying to work out how they were going to get a body out of her flat without attracting attention. Not to mention manoeuvre a grown man, admittedly a very thin one, when they were about the same height as Lydia. One of the women was built like an Olympic wrestler, but still. Bodies were heavy when they were dead.
Her phone rang. Aiden. ‘We should talk. I’m downstairs.’
The women had little wheelie suitcases, matching the pink of their tabards. One of the them unzipped hers and pulled out folded plastic sheeting which they began to lay out on the floor. At once, Lydia decided that delegation was a very important skill. ‘I’ll leave you to it,’ she muttered, backing to the door.
‘Three hours,’ the first woman said.
* * *
Lydia didn’t go far. She felt a strange pull to be nearby while Ash’s mortal remains were being handled. She owed him that much. Downstairs in The Fork, she took one of the paperback books from the free shelf and sat at her usual table. Moments later, Angel arrived at the table. Today, her dreads were tied up behind a bright pink scarf and she was only sixty-per-cent managing to conceal her habitual scowl. Since Lydia had taken over in Charlie’s place, Angel was clearly trying to be less surly, but old habits died hard. Truth be known, Lydia didn’t want her to change. But she couldn’t work out how to tell Angel that without losing face. She was pretty sure Angel would lose any respect for her whatsoever if she tried. While it was nice not having to pay for food and coffee and having Angel appear when summoned, Lydia felt an ache at the formality that existed between them now. ‘Coffee, please,’ Lydia said. She added a sandwich to the order, although she wasn’t hungry in the slightest. ‘And if anybody asks, I’ve been here all morning. Spread the word.’
‘Is someone going to ask?’
Lydia held her gaze until Angel looked away. ‘Coffee coming up. You want that sandwich toasted?’
Alibi in place, Lydia tried to read the book she had picked up. A fat airport thriller with dog-eared pages and a tattered front cover. She sipped her coffee and read the same page several times, picking at the cheese toastie and forcing herself to chew and swallow. Ash’s lifeless body, his neck cruelly twisted and his eyes wide and unseeing, kept leapfrogging to the front of her mind. It was an image that wouldn’t stay away, no matter how many times she shoved it back into the darkness. Something Charlie had said to her once played in a loop: ‘You try to save everyone, you save no one.’ She couldn’t protect Ash from the Pearls. They felt impunity to reach into her home and kill a man in front of her. She hadn’t protected Mark Kendal, a man who ought to be untouchable under the protection of the mighty Crows. Her closest ally, the man who shared her bed, was keeping secrets, and her own family questioned her methods and strategy. Maybe Mr Smith was right. Maybe she was too weak to be the head of the Family.
Chapter Twenty-One
That night, Lydia switched off her phone. Fleet had messaged, asking to talk, but she felt physically and emotionally wrecked. The flat was immaculately clean with no sign of the duct tape, any kind of struggle or Ash himself. The air was thick with pine-scented bleach and the synthetic floral of air freshener. Lydia opened the windows and stripped, putting every item of clothing into the washing machine. Then she took a long shower, scrubbing at her skin and underneath her nails. She didn’t want to be in the flat but she didn’t want to be anywhere else, either. She checked on Jason, who looked as upset as she was. ‘How could they do that?’ he asked, eyes hollow.
She didn’t know if he meant morally or physically or both. ‘I don’t know. Are you all right?’
Jason shrugged, his outline vibrating slightly. ‘Not really. But at least he’s at peace, now. He’s not here.’
That was something, Lydia supposed. Just not enough.
* * *
The next day, Lydia got up early. Her first thought was to start the day with a slug of whisky, something she had been pretty good at not doing for the last few months. With great reluctance, she decided to make another attempt at running, instead. She laced up her trainers and headed out into a damp spring morning. It was a half-hearted effort with Lydia’s whole body feeling heavier than usual. She slowed as she approached home, the same dark thoughts swirling. Fleet was waiting for her outside the cafe. She was sweaty, thirsty and not in the mood for more lies. ‘We’re not open yet.’
‘Can we talk?’
He looked wretched and Lydia felt a clutch of empathy. Still. She couldn’t shake the fear that she couldn’t trust him. He was police. She was the head of the Crows. It was a conflict that couldn’t be resolved.
‘Please,’ Fleet said. ‘Can we go upstairs?’
* * *
Lydia went into the flat first, making plenty of noise to warn Jason. She downed a glass of water standing at the kitchen sink and refilled it before joining Fleet in the office. He was standing in the middle of the room, looking worried and absolutely exhausted.
Lydia wondered if he had slept at all and then she reminded herself that she didn’t care. She leaned against her desk and crossed her arms. ‘I’ve been very slow on the uptake. In my defence, I’ve always had a blind spot when it comes to you.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Did they offer you a deal?’
‘Who?’ Fleet looked mystified, but Lydia knew he was a good liar. He was police, after all, and it was part of the training.
‘Your boss. Or your boss’s boss. Was it for a promotion or more casework or a better salary? I hope it was all three.’
‘What Paul said…’ Fleet began. ‘I only found out that day. I was going to tell you at the restaurant but he got there first. I swear. He knew more than I did, too. I was only given the bare minimum. You know I’m not flavour of the month with the top brass.’
Lydia wanted to believe Fleet, but she also knew that was part of the problem. She couldn’t afford mistakes any more. The stakes were too high to risk trusting the wrong person and, there and then, she realised she would have to go back to her old habit of not trusting anybody at all. That was fine. ‘What did they tell you?’
‘That there’s a task force looking at organised crime. It’s been focusing on the Silver Family since last year when Alejandro first started to make a move into politics. I think he made a few bigwigs nervous and they put the pressure on and that filtered down through management. You know how it works.’
‘Sure,’ Lydia said.
‘I didn’t know,’ Fleet said, again.
‘Why did they tell you about it? Are you part of it?’
‘Not part of it. They did have questions, though. About Maria Silver. And you.’
‘What did you tell them?’
‘Only what they already know. Your history with Maria. They have the details from the Yas Bishop case, but I gave them the truth so that they know what she’s capable of.’
Maria had killed Yas Bishop, one of the only people linked to JRB, and Lydia had made sure she had been jailed for it. Unfortunately, the conviction hadn’t stuck.
‘Who is running the operation? Did they believe you?’
Fleet shrugged. ‘Kate Harmon. Haven’t encountered her before and she wasn’t giving anything away.’
‘Does that mean you’re under suspicion, too?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Fleet said. ‘She’s just doing her job. We’re not really supposed to talk about open cases, not even with other police, unless we’re part of the team. You have to put in a request for information through the system.’
‘Coppers
talk though, right?’
Fleet smiled tightly. ‘Right.’
Lydia thought for a moment longer. Fleet reached for her and she stepped away, wanting to keep a clear head.
‘You have to believe me,’ Fleet said. ‘I had no idea until yesterday. I would have told you.’
Lydia looked at him properly. He looked anguished and his eyes telegraphed sincerity. But the doubt remained.
‘I chose you,’ he was saying. ‘I’m on your side first. I swear.’ His eyes lit up with an idea. ‘Use your power on me.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve seen you ask questions. People go all glazed and they answer you. Do that to me. Then you’ll know I’m telling the truth.’
Lydia was already shaking her head. ‘I wouldn’t do that to you. I don’t…’
‘I want you to do it,’ Fleet took her hands, ducking his head to look directly into her eyes. ‘I need you to trust me and we’re both old enough and experienced enough to know that sometimes trust needs hard proof. I let you down before and I swore to you that I would never do that again. I know that’s true, but you don’t. I’ll prove it to you every day for the rest of my life if you’ll let me, but this way is quicker.’
Lydia hesitated for another moment and then nodded her head. She wanted to trust Fleet and he was right, this was a shortcut to that trust. The fact that he was willing for her to use her power on him was almost enough to banish every last scrap of doubt. Almost wasn’t going to cut it, though.
She pulled her hands away and produced her coin, making it hover in the air between their bodies. Fleet’s eyes widened slightly but he didn’t move away. ‘Look into my eyes.’
‘Is that important?’ Fleet said, doing as he was told.
‘It’s quicker,’ Lydia said, wondering why he didn’t have the glazed obedience she expected. She pushed a bit of Crow whammy behind her next words. ‘Stand on one leg.’
Fleet’s lips quirked up at the corners. ‘Are you messing with me?’
Well, that was odd. The unusual gleam that she had sensed from Fleet when they first met was just part of him, now. Just as familiar and reassuring as his brown eyes and the deep timbre of his voice. Which was probably why it took a moment longer than it ought to have for Lydia to realise that it was getting stronger.
She could hear waves on sand, wind blowing through palm leaves and taste salt on her lips. Lydia blinked, trying to clear her mind.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Nothing,’ Fleet said. ‘I’m waiting for you to do your thing.’
Lydia shoved everything she had behind her words. ‘Did you know about the operation involving Alejandro Silver before today?’
‘No,’ Fleet said instantly. She could see that he was trying not to smile.
‘This is very weird,’ Lydia said, trying harder. ‘It doesn’t seem to be working-’
In that moment, Fleet let out a strangled sound. His whole body stiffened and his eyes took on the glazed look she was used to seeing in people when she used her Crow magic to gain control.
‘Right,’ Lydia said out loud, trying not to sound as rattled as she felt. She had pushed hard to get Fleet into a suggestive state and now she wondered whether to pull the throttle back a little. She realised that she had no idea whether this kind of control was damaging for people. If she used too much for too long, would she kill off brain cells?
She had no desire to turn her significant other into a drooling vegetable, but before she could pull back on her power, Fleet lurched violently and almost fell over. He took a jerky step forward to catch his balance and blinked hard. ‘What was that?’ His voice was normal and slightly pissed-off. ‘You didn’t say it would hurt.’
‘I didn’t think it did. No one has ever said so before. I’m sorry,’ Lydia reached up and plucked her coin from the air between them, pocketing it quickly before reaching for Fleet. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Did you get carried away?’ His colour was already returning to normal and the tension left his features.
‘I might have used more than usual, it didn’t seem to be affecting you. You should sit down.’
‘I’m fine. It only hurt for a moment.’
‘Where? All over, or-’
Fleet took her hand and put it against his chest.
‘That’s never happened before. I swear I didn’t know that would happen.’
‘It’s okay,’ Fleet dipped his head. ‘I’m okay.’
Lydia was close enough that she could see a sheen of sweat on his forehead and his skin had an ashy tone. ‘Does it still hurt?’
‘No. I just feel a bit wiped out. It was like something was clutching my heart. Squeezing it so hard that it stopped beating.’
‘Feathers,’ Lydia took a step away, but Fleet increased his grip on her hand, keeping in in place.
‘It’s all right. It’s beating again, now. No harm done.’
‘We don’t know that,’ Lydia pulled away successfully this time. ‘We should go to hospital, get you checked over.’
Fleet smiled, but Lydia could see it wasn’t at full wattage. He wasn’t feeling as fine as he pretended. ‘Sit down, at least,’ she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bedroom. ‘Or lie down.’
‘I might need a few minutes,’ he said, trying to keep things light.
‘Stop it,’ Lydia said. ‘I’m worried. And you should rest.’
Fleet sat on the bed. ‘I really am fine.’
Lydia climbed onto his lap and pressed herself against Fleet. His arms moved around to bring her closer and they kissed. After a moment, Fleet stopped. ‘Okay,’ he said and Lydia could see the pain on his face. ‘Maybe I will rest. Just for a moment. And then you can try again.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Lydia said. ‘It didn’t work on you.’
Fleet was clearly relieved and just as clearly trying to hide the fact. ‘But I want you to know I’m telling the truth about the operation. I really didn’t know before.’
‘I believe you,’ Lydia said. ‘The fact that you wanted me to interrogate you and are willing for me to try again. That’s enough.’
Fleet’s eyes were searching her own. ‘Is it?’
Lydia didn’t know how else to say ‘yes’ so she kissed him.
* * *
Later, curled up with Fleet, her back against his chest and his arms around her, Lydia felt the very last of her doubt ebb away. She could feel his gleam and the beating of his heart and every sense, both magical and animal, told her that Fleet was hers. She thought about what Emma had said about isolating herself. She thought about Maria. Furious and alone, surrounded by security she paid to protect her. She twisted around to face Fleet and put a hand on his cheek. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Mark Kendal.’
‘I can understand why you didn’t,’ he said after a moment.
‘I’m all in,’ Lydia said. ‘From now on.’
Fleet’s warm smile filled her soul with light. ‘Me, too.’
‘Which means I’ve got to tell you something bad.’
‘Okay,’ Fleet said, looking at her steadily.
‘Ash is dead,’ Lydia managed to get the words out and then she felt something break inside. ‘It’s my fault. I thought the king might take him back. He wanted to go back, wasn’t coping with normal life. And I thought I could get the king onside. Maybe develop them as an ally. For the good of my Family. The greater good. But he killed him.’ She was fully crying by the time she got to end of her confession, the words coming between gasps and hiccups. ‘It’s my fault.’
Fleet held her and stroked her hair. ‘It’s not your fault. You didn’t kill him. You tried to help him.’
‘I was going to give him to the king. I thought better someone who wanted to be with them than an unwilling child.’
‘And if the king had taken him, he would be alive. You didn’t hurt him, Lyds. You’re not a killer.’
Lydia closed her eyes and breathed in the comforting scent of Fleet and allowed herself to be comfort
ed. Just a moment. ‘What if that’s the problem?’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lydia had fallen asleep in Fleet’s arms, waking up with a line of drool connecting her cheek to his chest. ‘Sorry,’ she said, lifting her head and wiping his skin with her hand.
‘I don’t mind,’ Fleet said, sounding sleepy. ‘I told you I was all in.’
‘I didn’t realise that included dribble. Good to know.’
Lydia kissed him and then untangled herself to get dressed.
Fleet propped himself up on one elbow. ‘What’s happening?’
‘You should meet my parents.’
‘Is this another test?’ Fleet said, starting to pull on his clothes.
‘No. Just something that normal couples do.’
* * *
Once fully dressed, Lydia settled into the driving seat and pointed the Audi toward the suburbs. She stabbed at the radio a few times before switching it off.
‘Are you nervous?’
‘I’ve never brought anybody home.’
‘That can’t be true,’ Fleet said, but he looked pleased.
The idea of her teenage self rocking up at the parental abode with Paul Fox made her snort with laughter. It was possible that the nerves were getting to her. She felt giddy.
Her mother opened the door with a tea towel over one shoulder and a distracted expression. It cleared to one of pure joy the moment she saw Lydia. ‘Hello, love. This is a nice surprise.’
‘This is Fleet,’ Lydia said. ‘My…’ She hesitated over the word ‘boyfriend’. It just seemed ridiculous.
‘Come on in,’ her mother said, mercifully glossing over the moment.
Seeing Fleet in her childhood home was something Lydia had been trying to prepare herself for on the drive over. She had expected it to look all wrong. She couldn’t picture her London copper in the living room where she had played board games and watched TV after school and gossiped with Emma. Instead, Fleet shook her dad’s hand and began chatting about the snooker which was, inevitably, playing in the corner.
The Copper Heart Page 17
