Mal seemed to go even grayer. “No. I come in every day. I’m trying to work out who killed that banker and his daughter. I figure that’s my key.”
An unsolved double murder eighteen months ago that had shocked all of them by the ferocity of the attack.
“How’s Irene?” Joe asked, remembering the name of Mal’s wife. “Can she see you?”
Mal’s face darkened. “See me? No. Only seekers can see each other. Irene married again last month. The bitch.”
Joe winced. He considered pointing out that Irene was young, still had a life, Mal had been a bit of a miserable twat while he was alive, and didn’t seem to have changed now he was dead, but he didn’t. Joe imagined Poppy with someone else and felt the ache deep in his gut.
“I thought I’d take a look at what Keith’s working on, see if I can help,” Joe said as Keith walked back to his desk.
Joe didn’t intend to go down Mal’s route and try to solve an old crime. If he hadn’t managed it while he was alive with all the resources available, what hope did he have when the trail was as dead as him?
“Good luck.” Mal turned back to his files.
Joe came up behind Keith. His partner’s bald spot was worse. Joe wished he could tease him about it. Keith was in his late forties, with three teenage girls, a wife and mistress to support. Well, he had the last time Joe saw him. Joe watched Keith tap in his password—s7xydud7. That was new and nowhere near accurate.
When the black guy sat at the next desk, Joe’s desk, he realized he was his replacement.
“Any luck with the two in Exeter Street, Pete?” Keith asked.
“Not yet. Neither of them will press charges.”
“I’m fucking sick of these stupid women.” Keith shoved his keyboard away. “They’re no better than the men who bring them into the country. They must know what they’re letting themselves in for. How can they think they’ll end up with a well-paid job and a nice house in London when they come from some hick job in Hicksville? It’s all a fucking waste of time. Most of them don’t want to be helped.”
“But we should support the ones that do,” said Pete, still young and eager. “That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? To help those less fortunate members of society.”
Abso-fucking-lutely, Joe thought. Good for you, mate.
“If Joe heard you sitting there spouting the party line, he’d be gagging,” said Keith, the old and jaded.
Joe stood up straighter. Gagging? But that was what they were there for, to protect people from the criminal minority and to help those who couldn’t help themselves. Not just a platitude, but true.
“Do you miss him?” Pete asked.
The legions of hell couldn’t have dragged Joe away. Well, maybe a couple of demons might have managed it, but he was intent on hearing what Keith had to say. They’d had a good working relationship. They joked around, but could trust one another. Keith was his mate.
“Not really.”
Joe’s heart slammed to a halt. The wanker didn’t miss him? All those lunches he’d bought, all the times he’d covered for Keith with his wife or his mistress, and the bastard couldn’t even miss him a little?
“He was good at his job, don’t get me wrong, but he was bit of a smartass, a cold bastard. Always thought he knew best—well, better than anyone else. I never felt he really cared about the people we deal with, only about making the monthly targets, impressing those along the corridor.”
Joe glanced at Mal to see if he was listening. He had his head down, but Joe guessed his ears would be flapping like an elephant. It was easy to scoff at figures, but there were targets to achieve and Joe never manipulated the statistics. What right had Keith to claim Joe didn’t care about people, when Keith thought the trafficked women were as bad as the guys who trafficked them? Joe had never thought that. The women were being exploited and needed as much help as the police could give them.
“But this job’s all about people,” Pete said. “Making sure the good guys come out ahead of the bad guys.”
You tell him, Joe thought.
“Joe wanted that too, but he didn’t always go about it in the right way.”
Joe froze, turned into a statue cemented into the floor.
“Terrible tragedy—how he died.” Pete shook his head.
“More of one for his girlfriend. She knocked him over the edge, then tried to drag him back and couldn’t. He was a dead weight and she had a piece of glass digging into her hip as she clung onto him. Lost a shitload of blood.”
Joe’s blood drained in sympathy. Oh fuck. Why hadn’t she told him?
“She let him go?”
“She had to. He’d have pulled her over. I heard she’s back at work, but it must be hard to live with something like that.” Keith shrugged.
The phone rang and moments later the two men walked out of the room summoned by the boss. Joe felt like he’d been blown up in an explosion. His head spun and he couldn’t see straight. That scar on Poppy’s hip, why hadn’t she told him how it had happened? Keith’s words echoed in his head. How could Joe have expected her to pull him up? She was strong, but not that strong. And she hadn’t let him go deliberately. He’d slid out of her grasp. It wasn’t her fault.
A cold-hearted smartass. Was that what everyone thought? Joe bit his lip. So much for being an efficient police officer whose figures were the best in the division. His spine stiffened. Cold-hearted? Did they think he didn’t care? He fucking did care, he just didn’t show it. That was the way he was made, the way his parents had made him. He never showed how much they hurt him because that gave them the power to control him. Better to keep your emotions under check.
Joe sat at Keith’s computer. Keith had logged out before he left and Joe tapped in the password. He went through all the current files, skim-reading to see if anything leapt out at him. Nothing did. He hesitated before he clicked on Operation Bluevitriol. Not much seemed to have happened in the case that got Joe killed. Buxton had escaped and was still at large, his business in liquidation.
He’d used his transport company to smuggle people from Eastern Europe into the United Kingdom along with legitimate goods. Joe had been gathering useful information before he’d died, details of routes used, names of people involved in the UK. Luckily he’d been able to pass it all on before he’d taken a dive off the roof. Joe guessed the illegal part of the operation still existed in some form but had gone deeper underground. Probably one of Buxton’s two sons bringing the women in now while Buxton sunned himself on some exotic South American beach.
When Keith and Pete came back into the room, Joe closed the file and moved away from the computer. He knew he ought to go and see if Poppy was still waiting, but he wanted to hear if Keith had anything else to say about him.
“Who was that woman you were staring at, outside the DCS’s office?” Pete asked.
“She was the one I was telling you about. Joe’s bird. I wonder why the hell the boss wants to see her?”
Keith tugged at his ear. Joe had won an imaginary fortune from him in poker on stakeouts. He knew every one of Keith’s nervous tics and ear-pulling was at the top. When Keith sat at his computer, all the color leached from his face. He looked almost as bad as Mal. Joe watched carefully.
“What the fuck…?” Keith’s hands shook as he tapped the keyboard.
“What?” Pete asked.
Keith looked around.
“Someone’s been on my computer.”
“Who’d know your password?”
“You might have seen it.”
Pete glared. “I’ve not left your side. Anyway, I don’t know your bloody password. Are you sure someone’s been on?”
“Yes, I’m fucking sure. It’s the file order. I know what I last looked at and it isn’t what’s showing.”
Joe’s heart pounded. He wasn’t supposed to have any effect on things in this reality so how had that happened?
“What have they read?” Pete asked.
Keith clicked off e
very screen and jumped up. “Doesn’t matter. Forget it. I probably made a mistake. Get on with the paperwork for last night. I need to make a few phone calls.”
Joe followed Keith out of the office. It could all have been nothing, but he knew it wasn’t. Keith was hiding something.
* * * * *
After Poppy checked twice to make sure there were no celebrity magazines hiding under the heavyweight publications on the coffee table, or anything with pictures, she resorted to counting spots on the carpet, then cracks in the wall. She wished Joe was there, but there was no sign of him. She guessed coming back to the Yard had been hard. It made her feel guiltier for what had happened. Poppy opened her mouth in a huge yawn just as DCS Watson poked his head around the door to beckon her into his room. Shit.
“Constable Field. Come in.” He closed the door behind her and pointed to a chair. “How are things?”
“Fine, sir.”
The only answer Poppy could give and the only one he wanted to hear. She sat on the edge of the seat and tried to look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. If he knew about her getting stuck up the tree, that was probably what he thought of her.
“There are two reasons I asked you to come here today. The first is rather serious.”
Poppy slumped in the chair.
“It’s come to our attention that Jethro Buxton is planning to return to England to see his dying mother. We’re watching out for him at all ports of entry, and we’ll keep an eye out to ensure your safety but I wanted to warn you to be vigilant. Your partner, Graham, has been advised too, but if Buxton is apprehended, you’ll be the main witness at his trial. You know we want him for Joe’s murder. There’s a possibility he may decide to do something about that and try to shut you up.”
Poppy tried to appear unconcerned when all she wanted to do was hide in the corner and gibber. Joe appeared at her side looking gray and drawn. He dropped into the chair next to her, stretched his long legs out in front of him, and gave her a little smile. Even pale, he was gorgeous. His hard eyes were softened by fringes of dark, thick lashes, his…
“Something you find fascinating about my filing cabinet?” asked the DCS.
Poppy spun around to face him. “Spider. Sorry.”
“The other thing I have to tell you is much more pleasant. I have some good news for you.” He beamed at her. “You’ve been recommended for a bravery award.”
“W-what?” Poppy’s stomach reacted at the same time as her mouth and she swallowed hard. She wondered what the DCS would do if she added a few more spots to his carpet.
“You risked your life attempting to help a fellow police officer. You knew Buxton had a gun and you were unarmed. I know you and Joe were in a relationship, but I feel you—”
Poppy jumped to her feet. “No. I don’t want it. I wasn’t brave. Joe was brave.”
“I’ve put Joe forward for a posthumous award, but—”
Poppy backed to the door. “I’m sorry, sir, but I really don’t want…”
She clamped a hand to her mouth and fled.
Joe caught up with her as she pushed open the door of the Ladies. He followed her inside.
“Go away,” Poppy shouted and rushed into a cubicle.
Joe stood by the wash basins and waited. After a few moments, the toilet flushed and Poppy emerged with a white face. Ignoring him, she turned on a cold tap, splashed water into her mouth, and then leaned with her hands gripping the sides of the basin, watching the water swirl down the plug hole. Joe knew he couldn’t hold her but he wrapped his arms around her anyway, so she could see he wanted to.
“He’s right,” Joe said. “You were brave, Poppy. I’ve been stupid. None of it was your fault.”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t be dead if I’d done what you said.”
“You were injured yourself.”
“It was nothing.”
He’d seen the scar and not pushed. Why hadn’t he asked her what happened? The knowledge of how much he’d hurt her slammed into Joe like an express train.
“Let’s go home. I want to hold you,” he whispered.
She pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and wiped her face.
They’d only just stepped out of the Ladies when a man further down the corridor called her.
“Good afternoon, Poppy.”
“Hello, Dr. Martell.”
“How are you?”
“Fine, thank you.”
“Really?” The doctor looked at her over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses. “How’s Joe? Still around?”
“The thing is,” Poppy said, looking straight into the man’s face. “I understand now that it was because I wanted to see Joe so much that my brain convinced me he was there.”
“Excellent. Show’s you’re making progress.”
Joe wanted to smash the smile off the guy’s face.
“Only, now I really can see him,” Poppy said and managed the smile removal herself.
“You think he’s here?”
“Not think. I know. He’s by your side.”
The doctor turned.
“Other side,” Poppy said.
Joe whipped around to the opposite side and pulled a face at Poppy. She didn’t smile. The doctor stared down an empty corridor.
“Maybe I should tell him what you seem unable to say. Joe, leave her alone. Don’t you think you’ve hurt her enough? Let her live her life.”
“No,” Poppy gasped and stepped forward. “Don’t say that. I don’t want him to go. I need him.”
The doctor stared at her for a moment. “I want you to make an appointment to see me before your scheduled one. First thing Monday morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
Joe followed Poppy from the building, his mind whirling.
“Too late to go back to work now,” Poppy mumbled. “Might as well go home, slit my wrists and stick my head in the oven.” She stopped walking and looked at Joe. “Have I gone crazy?”
“No.”
“You really are here?” she whispered, looking so lost, Joe found it hard to breathe.
“Yes.” He hesitated. “Do you want me to go, Poppy? Maybe I should.”
“No.” She reached out to grab him and her arm went through his chest. Poppy smiled. “Fancy a Thai takeout? Go get your bike and I’ll meet you at the Jade Garden.”
I fancy you, Joe thought, and all the way back to Greenwich tried to think how he could make things up to her.
* * * * *
“Hi, not see you long time,” the Thai manager said when they walked in.
Joe and Poppy had been regulars.
“You want pad thai noodle with prawn, green chicken curry and fried rice?”
Poppy smiled. “You remember.”
“You two always same. Always smile. Always eat same. You make nice couple. He make you come on own this time? He watching TV, eh?”
And Joe knew that he couldn’t do this to Poppy, that maybe the right thing was to leave her alone. He was looking in the wrong place for the path to white wings. There was no case to solve, no criminal wrong to put right. Only his wrong. He’d held Poppy responsible for his death. She’d done her best to save him and he’d failed to see that. Now he did and he had to let her go. But he wanted one last night.
Chapter Nine
The closer they drew to her apartment, the happier Poppy became. Desperate to touch Joe again, she could feel her mood lifting as though she’d been pumped full of helium.
“Food first or frantic sex?” she asked.
Joe tripped on the step.
Poppy grinned. “Oh no, you’re lightheaded. You must need food.”
“I could wait a few minutes.”
She pouted. “I was hoping for longer than that.”
Poppy rushed through the outer door of her building and as Joe followed, she turned and reached for him. His fingers wrapped around hers and they both let out a deep sigh. Two feet inside the vestibule and Joe’s mouth was on her neck, his hand in the gap between her skirt and bl
ouse, fingertips stroking her bare skin sending sparks to her crotch. Poppy was caught up in an electrical storm—her body hummed for him.
“I was scared I wouldn’t be able to touch you,” Poppy whispered as she clung to his waist.
“Upstairs, before I commit an act of public indecency and you get charged with having sex with the invisible man.” Joe tugged her towards the stairs.
Inside her apartment with the door kicked shut, Poppy only had time to put down the food before Joe was on her. He pressed her into the wall, his hands curling around her hips as his mouth sought hers. Poppy wrapped her arms around him, shuddering with pleasure when she felt the hard ridge of his erection rising between them. His kiss was so long and deep, breathing became a problem and she had to drag her mouth away to gulp air into her lungs. Joe wouldn’t let her go. He brought his lips back to hers and kissed her as though it was the last chance he’d have. At that thought, Poppy kissed him more frantically and this time, Joe pulled back.
“God, Poppy, you drive me wild. I wanted to make this last, but you’ll be lucky to get a couple of minutes out of me.”
As his fingers fumbled with the buttons on her shirt, his relentless heat-seeking lips homed in on hers again. Gentle this time, no soul sucking but teasing exploration followed by slow pulsing. His hands stopped moving as the kiss deepened. Joe gave a deep groan.
They left a trail of clothes all the way to the bedroom, Joe’s left sock the last item to hit the floor. As Poppy crawled onto the bed, his hands snagged her waist and tugged her into reverse. His cock nestled between her legs and she arched back, rubbing her slippery cleft up and down his length.
“God, Poppy. I’m on a hair trigger here.”
“I need you now, Joe.”
Not that he needed the encouragement. In one urgent, powerful thrust, his hands gripping her hips, Joe buried himself inside her.
“Oh, that feels so good,” Poppy groaned. “Is that just one finger?”
He shook as he laughed and his cock twitched inside her.
“You’re evil,” Joe said.
He held her steady and began to pulse. Poppy felt him change. His muscles, already tight, drew tighter. His fingers dug into her hips and his breathing grew ragged. She pushed back to meet his thrusts and they both began panting.
Power of Love Page 9
