by Lisa Hartley
He was surprised to hear himself say it, and even more surprised to find he meant it.
14
Catherine Bishop drove across town to Louise’s new address after collecting a Chinese takeaway, feeling strangely nervous. DI Knight had given her his spare key, told her to enjoy herself, to be careful and to let him know if she was going to be out all night. She’d frowned a little at that, as if he thought he was her dad or something, until she’d seen the grin on his face. Careful she’d thought you’ll be liking him next. He certainly seemed to be coming out of his shell a little, although she’d noticed some of the other officers still glanced at each other and smiled or shook their heads behind his back. He was just so awkward somehow, especially when compared with DCI Kendrick and the other DIs. Still, as a boss she had no real complaints, at least so far, and that was all she needed to worry about. She was almost there, and the butterflies in her stomach increased. She was suddenly conscious of the mud on her boots and the fact she’d come straight from the station with no time for a shower or even a quick wash. She gave herself a mental shake: It’s Louise, she’s seen you looking like this a million times, looking much worse than this too. It’s not like you need to impress her. She had to admit that a tiny part of her wanted Louise to suddenly realise what she’d been missing, although after a thirteen hour day, she was unlikely to be looking or smelling her best.
Bishop saw a spot by the kerb she could leave the car. It was at the wrong end of Louise’s street, but it would have to do. She clambered out, heaving the bag of food over the gearstick, and awkwardly locked the door. There were footsteps behind her and she tensed, feeling vulnerable with her hands full. She remembered Knight’s warning to be careful as well as the message left with Craig Pollard’s body and fought the temptation to spin around, to see who was there. The distance to Louise’s door seemed miles. She should have parked beneath a streetlight. Come on, Catherine, you’re a police officer she said to herself sternly. Squaring her shoulders, she turned around, eyes scanning the street. Nothing. There was no one else in sight. Bishop sighed and began to walk down the street, watching and listening, feeling incredibly alert although she was tired. Louise’s house was in sight when there was another sound, running feet some way behind her. Bishop gasped, walking faster, images from her dream of the night before running through her mind. She was level with Louise’s front gate, the footsteps growing closer and closer. Bishop, almost running herself now, stopped to fumble with the bolt on the gate, eventually got it open and hurtled through, onto the gravel path. A figure rushed by on the pavement behind her, a flash of light lit the dark sky for a second, then it was gone. Bishop knocked as loudly as she dared on Louise’s front door, trying to control her breathing. She was fine, the figure was just a kid, there was no danger. The fact that the light had looked just like those in her dreams was a coincidence, it hadn’t been a camera, there was no one out there. You’re okay, Bishop told herself. There was movement in the house, and the door opened. Louise appeared, glass of wine in one hand, paperback book in the other. She’d had her hair cut shorter than Catherine remembered. It suited her, drawing attention to the structure of her face.
‘Come in, Catherine. How are you? Long day?’
Bishop followed her into a short hallway, forcing herself to stay calm.
‘You could say that. I’m fine, thanks. I like your hair. How are you?’
She held out the bag of food and Louise took it, leading the way into the kitchen where the table was set.
‘No candles?’ Bishop joked, some of her bravado returning now she was on the right side of a locked door, though her heart still pounded.
Louise smiled tiredly.
‘Not tonight. How are you really? You look exhausted. Are you working on the Craig Pollard murder? I couldn’t believe it when I read about it, it just doesn’t seem like the sort of thing that happens around here,’ She poured Bishop a glass of water which she took gratefully, and started to serve the food. ‘Beef and black bean?’
‘Yours, of course. Mine’s the chicken fried rice.’
Louise glanced at her.
‘That’s a new one.’
‘I’m not really hungry.’
Louise didn’t comment and they ate in silence for a while, Bishop picking at her food.
Eventually, she said, ‘This was a surprise.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Inviting me here.’
Louise took a sip of wine.
‘I invited you here because you said you’d be working late and I thought it made more sense than me sitting in a pub somewhere waiting for you. I just thought it’d be nice to catch up, that’s all.’
‘Nice? I thought English teachers didn’t use that word.’
‘Yes, nice. Although I’m starting to wonder why I bothered.’
Bishop covered her face with her hands.
‘I’m sorry.’ she said, her voice muffled. Louise stood, walked around the table and put an arm around her shoulders.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Come and talk to me.’
In the living room, a wood burner blazed in the fireplace. The lights were dimmed, the colours neutral and calming. Bishop felt herself instantly relax as Louise led her by the hand to the settee.
‘I’m sorry.’ Bishop repeated.
‘Been doing your big brave copper act? What’s going on, Catherine?’
‘You know I can’t tell you.’
‘Tell me what you can.’
Bishop relayed the briefest details of the messages left and the photo she’d received, the panic and worry they’d caused her, then the incident just now in the street. Louise listened, staring into the fire. When Bishop was quiet, she said,
‘And I don’t suppose you’ve talked to anyone about this? No one knows how worried you’ve been? What if that person outside just now was the person you’re trying to catch? He could have done anything to you. You could be in real danger, Catherine.’
‘It was just a kid outside, don’t worry. I’ve spoken to DI Knight. I just need to carry on and when we’ve caught him, it’ll be over.’
‘I bet you didn’t tell him how you’ve really been feeling. You need to talk to people.’
‘He’s my boss, not my therapist, he needs to know I can do my job, or else I’ll be off the case, shunted across to DI Hawkins and her bloody car thefts. This is what I’ve worked for, I can’t let some psycho with a screw loose scare me into giving it up.’
Louise held up her hands.
‘All right, all right, I get it. No need to shout.’
There was silence for a while, until Bishop started to get to her feet.
‘I need to go and get some sleep, Louise, I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain in the arse.’
Louise reached out, held her arm.
‘I wanted to talk to you.’
Slowly, Bishop sat back down. Louise took a deep breath.
‘When you sent that text the other night, it got me thinking. I do miss you, you know, I have done since I moved out. I just wanted to see you again, to talk and … I don’t know. I know we’ve kept in touch, but I’ve not actually seen you for ages. We were happy, weren’t we, if hadn’t been for your job … ’
‘My job is still here though, all the problems you had with it will still be problems.’
‘I know. I know they will, and I understand you love your work and you need to do it. I miss you, I miss how we were at the beginning.’
‘We can’t go back there though.’
‘Maybe we could.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I can be more understanding, we could keep our separate houses, just see each other a bit more often? When you can?’
Bishop stared.
‘Where has this come from? When you left, you told me I was married to my job, that I’d chosen the job over you, over our life together, over our future, and all of a sudden you can compromise? Why has it taken you six months to work it out?’
Louise had tears in her eyes.
‘I miss you. I just … miss you.’
‘You miss me, or you miss someone coming home to you, eating with you, sharing a bed with you? There’s a difference. I didn’t know if I missed you for yourself or if I missed the company at first.’
‘Well, that’s honest. And what did you decide?’
‘I missed you. But you left, you walked out.’
‘You agreed it was for the best.’
‘What choice did I have? None. You gave me two options, us or the job, and to me that’s not what a person who loved me would force me to decide. In the reply to my last text, you said exactly the same, that I’d miss my job more than I missed you. Why have you changed your mind?’
‘I haven’t, I just see that I could have been more understanding, that’s all.’
‘But why now? Are you saying you want us to get back together? It’s all come out of the blue.’
‘I’m just saying it would be good to see more of you, maybe see how things go.’
‘Good of you to throw me a few crumbs! Do I have any say in this? You’re also presuming I’m single, which is a bit of a cheek really.’
‘Are you?’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but that’s not the point.’
‘You know my friends Amy and Beth?’ Bishop groaned. ‘I know you don’t like them, but I was talking to them, they’re building a house, thinking about starting a family when it’s finished. It just got me thinking about us, how we happy we used to be. I just thought what if I’ve thrown away my chance for a future like that?’
‘You didn’t throw it away, we agreed it wasn’t going to work. I’ll admit, I wanted you to stay, I’ve missed you, but we’re the same people in the same situation.’
Louise got up, took a tissue from a box on the bookcase.
‘I don’t want to argue with you, we’ve done that before.’
‘We’ll always come back to things we’ve said before, because the old issues are still there.’
Louise looked at Catherine, holding her gaze.
‘Is it just the issues that are still there?’
‘What do you mean?’
Leaning forward, Louise took her hand.
‘Catherine, all I’m asking is if we can try, just take it slowly. I know how I was, I know I said things, I wasn’t very understanding or supportive. You said you missed me.’
Bishop glanced away.
‘I know. But what if we try, and everything’s the same? My job takes up more time than ever. Would you really want to cope with that again?’
‘Other people do. I know it seems sudden, but it’s not really, I’ve been thinking about it for a while. I just don’t want to look back in a few years and wish I’d at least talked to you about it.’
‘And you knew I’d just come running?’ The face of the woman that she had seen in the briefing room flashed into Bishop’s mind and she blinked, thrown for a second.
Louise moved away.
‘This has obviously been a mistake.’
‘I just want to make sure you realise that nothing’s changed. Just because we’re both still single, it doesn’t mean it will work if we get back together.’
Frowning, Louise stood again, went through to the kitchen and brought the wine bottle through. There was a tiny amount left and Louise poured it into her glass then drank it down, still standing.
‘You’re right. Maybe you should go now, then.’ Her voice was cold.
Bishop stood too and they walked to the front door. Bishop turned, wondering what she was supposed to do.
‘Bye then.’ she said helplessly.
‘Thanks for the food.’ Louise said formally. They stared at each other, eyes sending wordless messages. Slowly, they moved closer until they stood face to face, bodies almost touching.
‘Stay tonight?’ whispered Louise.
Knight woke sweating, panicking, knowing he’d probably screamed in his sleep, shouted. The dream was back, more vivid and terrible than ever, the blindfold, the smell of petrol and hatred, the snarled threats and promises. The punches in his gut, the kicks in his ribs and between his legs, the sound and feel of his shirt being torn from his body. Then the weight, someone kneeling on the small of his back, his arms being held by cruel hands, legs pinned down, no idea how many there were or what they would do to him now, if he would even survive. The first touch on his back, his shoulder blade, on the flesh there, a cold, piercing sensation that quickly turned to red hot agony. The terrible realisation that it was a knife, that they were cutting him, that his blood was running over the front of his shoulder, down his back. They were laughing, taunting him, promising he would never forget this night, he would forever have a reminder of it, just in case he thought of doing something so stupid again. Lying there when they’d dumped him at the side of the road, cold, shivering, losing blood, knowing that he’d brought this on himself.
15
For the second time, Knight’s sleep was interrupted, this time by his mobile phone. He groaned, rolling over. It felt as if he’d only slept for minutes, but a glance at the glowing figures of his bedside clock told him it was about four hours since his dream had woken him, 6.36 am now. He fumbled for the phone, which was still chirping away somewhere near the clock. Finally grabbing it, he raised it to his ear. Thirty seconds later, he was out of bed, fumbling for clothes, rushing across the landing for the bathroom. He pounded on the door of the spare bedroom to wake DS Bishop, but there was no reply. He stared at the door, remembered, and stumbled back to the bedroom, picking up his phone where he’d dropped it on the bed. Sure enough, there was a text from her, he must have already been asleep when it arrived: Staying here, c u at station tomorrow. CB He smiled in spite of the news he’d just received. Good for you he thought. Unfortunately, he was going have to disturb her.
Catherine Bishop stretched out a hand, and found Louise’s warm back. It was true then. She’d woken a few minutes before, taking a few seconds to remember where she was, why the wall she was looking at was pale yellow and not white. Louise’s house, Louise’s bedroom, Louise’s bed. She stretched, then buried her face in the pillow, never having imagined accepting Louise’s invitation to meet up would lead to this. Were they back together then? Was that what she wanted? Louise, so familiar, so safe, the shared history and memories, the friends in common, the knowledge of each other’s past and hopes for the future. Everything she thought she’d lost was seemingly back within her grasp and she had to decide whether she wanted to take it, or to run. Perhaps staying last night hadn’t been the best way to begin making that decision. She realised her mobile was ringing. Where the hell was it? It had been in her jacket pocket and she seemed to remember her clothes were on the floor at the side of the bed. She leant over to look, and sure enough could see the screen of the phone, clearly lit through the fabric of her shirt, which was lying on top of it. She heaved herself on to the floor and grabbed it. DI Knight. Not good at this time in the morning.
‘Hello? Jonathan?’
‘Morning, Catherine, we’ve got another body with our friend’s calling card. Where are you, can I pick you up?’
Bishop gave Louise’s address, her head spinning. This changed everything.
‘Okay, we won’t lose much time if I call in for you. I think I can be there in about twenty minutes.’
He hung up. Bishop slowly stood up. Louise’s face appeared over the side of the bed, bleary eyed.
‘Let me guess,’ she said. ‘You’ve got to go?’
‘Another body. I’ll need some clean clothes, Louise, I’m sorry.’
Louise clambered out of bed, pulled on pyjama shorts and a vest.
‘Have a quick shower, I’ll sort you something out.’ she said.
Bishop kissed her softly on the way out of the bedroom door, trying to ignore the churning of her stomach.
The atmosphere in Knight’s car was noticeably tense. Although they’d both attended more crime scenes than they wanted to remember, th
is somehow felt different, more personal. They hadn’t been given much detail, only that the body of an adult male had been discovered by the roadside, next to a vehicle and, of course, that the same message found with Craig Pollard’s body had also been recognised at the scene. Bishop was quiet, her mind running through the possibilities of what this meant. Until they arrived at the scene, they couldn’t begin to answer any of her questions, but that didn’t stop her mind racing. She was wearing some of Louise’s clothes, black pinstripe trouser suit and a light grey shirt. It was strangely comforting to carry Louise’s smell with her, a tiny piece of the old familiarity in a world that suddenly felt very strange. Louise had provided a new toothbrush, been very understanding and even waved her off at the door. Perhaps she really was determined to turn over a new leaf. Bishop closed her eyes, opened them again, knowing she needed to concentrate, to focus on making sense of whatever was waiting for them. She glanced at the sat nav Knight was religiously following. It reckoned they would arrive at their destination in around four minutes. She gazed out of the window, not that there was anything to see but darkness. She could imagine the flat countryside, bare fields, the grass a washed out paler version of its summer self. Three minutes. She couldn’t mention the running figure last night now, it would have to be later.
Knight coughed, cleared his throat. She wanted him to say something, anything, but he just kept driving, fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly, his lips pressed tightly together. Two minutes. The sat nav’s computerised voice suddenly boomed out, making them both jump, instructing Knight to turn left at the next junction. Knight braked, slowed right down. It was a tiny break in the hedge, barely noticeable, especially in this light. Out of the darkness loomed a figure in a high visibility coat. A uniformed constable, blowing on his hands, stood by a line of cones and a ‘POLICE ROAD CLOSED’ sign. Knight stopped the car next to him and wound down the window, fumbling for his warrant card. The constable leaned in.
‘Sorry, sir, this road’s closed, as you can see. I’m going to have to ask you to turn around.’
