by Mari Hannah
And now, as she lay in that grim hotel room, her row with Hank replayed in her head. He’d been right to challenge her. She alone was responsible for abandoning Jo at the eleventh hour. No one forced her to do it. It was her decision. When he’d found out that Kate was about to let Jo down, knowing full well that she’d be at home researching where they might eat and what landmarks to visit, Kate saw for herself what it meant to him to see them off on holiday together. Just like in the restaurant, he went ballistic, unable to hide his disapproval, criticising her for not caring enough, for fucking up her life again.
Kate skipped breakfast and went for a run, a way to avoid Hank until she was ready to face him. She showered and dressed, calling the hospital to check on her father even though he didn’t deserve it, briefing Bright on progress, checking in with Robbo and Carmichael, then texting Hank when she was ready, asking him to meet her downstairs, without mentioning their harsh exchange the night before. It would be impossible to concentrate without him onside. They might have an in at the Casualty Bureau, but they had to be careful around Waverley and his team. Duty would drive them on; an obligation to Jo, not Queen and country.
Her Majesty could wait.
As they headed for her car, Kate kept her tone light. ‘I spoke to Tom this morning.’
‘How was he?’
‘Better than expected given the circumstances. He’d just collected Nelson from Emily’s.’ She didn’t need to explain that Emily was an old friend, Nelson Jo’s adorable chocolate Labrador. Hank was well acquainted with both. ‘Tom said he needed the company and James is heading north.’
‘They’re not coming down?’
Kate shook her head. ‘I advised them not to. They’ll kip at Jo’s place until they hear, one way or the other.’
‘Wise move. I’d hate to think they were hoping for a quick result. They do realise it could be years before we receive a positive ID? Months more before we’re in a position to inform next of kin?’
‘Yeah, they’re in the picture. Don’t worry, Hank. It might not always seem so but they’re close. They’ll support each other, and so will we …’ Blipping the car doors open, she climbed in. When he did likewise, she swivelled round to face him, right forearm resting on the steering wheel, left elbow on the backrest of her seat. ‘There’s no one I’d rather have here with me. You know that, right?’
‘Same here.’
‘Hank, I owe you an apology.’
‘You owe me nothing. It’s me who should be sorry. I was out of order. I had no right.’
‘You had every right.’
‘How you treat Jo is none of my business.’
‘It needed saying, but let’s draw a line under it.’
‘Kate, all I want is for you to stop torturing yourself—’
‘Hank, don’t … I know you think I’m mad but please don’t take my hope away. It’s all I have left, the only thing that’ll keep me going. I won’t, I can’t accept that she’s dead until I have unequivocal proof – and we’re a long way from that. In my position, you’d feel the same. Bear with me for a while longer. For what it’s worth, I wish I’d listened to you. I’ll never forgive myself that I didn’t.’
16
Mid-morning, Kate and Hank knocked off for a break. They took it in the refectory – posh Met-speak for the canteen. Despite the fancy name, the space was no different from the grim bait room they were used to at their Newcastle base. Kate’s belly growled with hunger. She bit into an apple she’d half-inched from the hotel breakfast table on the way back from her run. It wasn’t fresh and she threw it in the bin. Ordering a bacon roll, she ate it too fast and felt bloated afterwards. It was unlike her to whinge, but she did it all the same …
‘I’m no connoisseur but this coffee is dreadful. How’s the tea?’
‘Like piss.’ Hank pushed his mug away, his eyes shifting to a point over her left shoulder. ‘There’s a cooler over there. You want water?’
‘Please.’
He went off to fetch some, returned moments later, handing her a paper cup as he sat down. Swallowing a gulp of liquid, he used his tongue to remove sandwich debris from his teeth. ‘Now are you going to tell me what you hope to gain from helping the Casualty Bureau?’
Kate brushed crumbs from the edge of the table with the back of her hand, an avoidance tactic. ‘They need our expertise,’ she said casually.
He narrowed his eyes. ‘And we’re doing our bit, but it doesn’t answer my question. Let me rephrase. What specifically is going through that head of yours?’
‘We have access. That’s a start.’
‘Access to what?’
Hank was clever. He too had been mentored by Bright, but wanted nothing to do with promotion. He was happy in the rank of detective sergeant – the exciting end of murder investigation – and had never shown an interest in moving up. But, with Robbo now in temporary charge up north, Kate couldn’t help wondering if he resented missing out.
‘C’mon,’ he said. ‘You need to give me something to go on. You can’t expect me to follow you over the cliff without knowing why I’m committing hara-kiri.’
Kate grinned. ‘And there was me thinking that was your role in life.’
‘Maybe the question I should’ve asked is: where do we fit in? Or perhaps: what will we be doing in our own time, given the remit of the Casualty Bureau is mind-numbingly boring? You and I both know they’ll be receiving intelligence and feeding the machine. Nothing more.’
He’d got that right. Casualty Bureau personnel were mere collators of information on a massive scale. It was time to level with him. ‘And while they’re seeking, receiving and inputting that information, they’ll not be looking at individual cases or watching what we’re doing, will they? We’re now bona fide members of the bureau with IDs to prove it. Do you really think that the shower at Heathrow know what our brief is supposed to be? Because I sure as hell don’t.’
‘So, we’ll operate under the radar in our spare time in the hope that we learn something about …?’ He left the question unfinished.
‘By day we help out,’ she said. ‘By night, we’ll play it by ear. I need to know if Jo was on that plane.’
‘You know she was.’
‘No, Hank. She showed a boarding card. That’s not the same thing. She may only have been yards from the cabin door, but, until we know for certain that she crossed the threshold, I’m begging you not to write her off. Are you in or out?’
He seemed conflicted.
‘Hank, if you have something to say, out with it.’
‘I don’t want to push my luck.’
‘Push away. Do what you’ve always done. Challenge me. Ask your questions. I’m not as fragile as I look.’
‘You have a plausible explanation as to how Jo missed that flight?’
‘To be honest, no.’ How could Kate convey what she was thinking without making Jo – or herself – sound predatory? Knowing that he wouldn’t understand, she went for it. ‘Look, Jo and I were both very upset when she ditched me. She’d made it perfectly clear that we were at the end of the road. I took Fiona to bed to get over her.’ Startled by the revelation, Hank glowered at her, on the verge of another emotional outburst. Never a pretty sight. She raised a hand, cutting him off at the pass. ‘I know, perhaps not my best decision, but mine to make, not yours.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because I keep thinking about the guy she spoke to at the airport. I need to find him and talk to him. OK, I need to question him. I’ll interrogate the bastard if I have to. Only then will I know if she continued the dialogue after I hung up.’
He’d second-guessed where she was heading. ‘You think they went off together? You said he was a creep.’
‘She said he was. She was in a foul mood. He may not have been on the prowl. He could have been Mister Nice Guy for all I know, perfectly amiable, respectable and lonely. She was, too, don’t forget. Don’t we all do daft things when we’re upset? Lonely people need comfort, too.�
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17
Eight years earlier
Kate turned to look over her shoulder. Her friend Janet Crozier smiled at her, a woman Kate had never seen before standing by her side – a modern tuxedo, slim trousers, high heels. She was almost identical in height to Kate, with deep blue eyes.
Janet turned her palms face up and brought them together, providing a bridge between her two guests. ‘Jo Soulsby, meet Kate Daniels.’
Kate smiled a hello. ‘Janet and I go back a long way.’
‘Stop that!’ Janet said. ‘You make me sound ancient.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ Jo, the stranger, had a wicked smile. She held out a hand, long slender fingers. Icy-cold. Her eyes were on their host. ‘Sorry I’m late, Jan. I had an issue at home.’
‘Nothing serious, I hope.’
‘Nothing I can’t handle.’
Sounded like a domestic to Kate.
‘Can I get you both a drink?’ Janet said. The doorbell rang. ‘Bugger. Will you help yourselves?’ She eyeballed Kate, a scary face. ‘I hope this isn’t one of your lot, darling. My new neighbours aren’t really party people. Between you and me, they’re a complete and utter pain in the arse.’ She leaned in to Jo and said, ‘Look after Kate for me. Gary’s had a few too many. He thinks he’s in with a shout.’
Jo smiled. ‘I noticed.’
‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ Kate mimicked her.
‘Be honest!’ Janet laughed. ‘You get it all the time.’
She rushed off to answer the door, grabbing a full bottle of bubbly from the table; a peace offering, Kate assumed. She cast an eye around the living room. Most of the party guests were couples. She’d only come to make up the numbers and would rather have been lifting a pint with Hank, or watching TV with her jimjams on, her hand in and out of a bag of Revels.
‘Do you?’ Jo said.
Kate was on the back foot. ‘Do I what?’
‘Get it all the time.’
That was a double entendre if ever Kate had heard one. Her grin graduated to nervous laughter. ‘Janet has an overactive imagination.’
‘Nothing wrong with that,’ Jo said. ‘It’s not true?’
‘Not as often as she’s led you to believe.’
‘Welcome to my world.’
‘Who has the time?’
Jo bit her lip, an expression that said: we should make time. They chatted for a while over wine and nibbles, a frisson of excitement developing between them. A short time later, Kate excused herself, heading for the bathroom. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror as she walked in.
Was she reading this right?
When Kate returned to the living room, she was disappointed to see Jo in conversation with another woman, smiling politely at something she’d said. Confusion reigned. Kate was sure she was getting signals, but perhaps she was seeing something that wasn’t there, something she hoped was there.
A ripple of excitement ran down her spine as Jo returned to her side. None of the guests was paying them any attention. When Kate dared look again, Jo flicked her eyes in the direction of the offending and rather inebriated guest who’d been bothering Kate when Jo arrived at the party. He was being dragged away by a larger man.
Jo lifted her glass. ‘Never trust a lawyer. They’re a bloody liability.’
Kate smiled with her eyes as well as her mouth. ‘You’re not a legal eagle yourself? Most of Janet’s cronies are.’
‘Heaven forbid.’ Jo didn’t offer an alternative occupation and Kate didn’t pry, though she was dying to know everything about her. She didn’t have a clue why. ‘Nothing I can’t handle’ sounded like baggage, but – try as she might to discount her as anything other than a friendly sort – Kate knew something inexplicable was happening. She didn’t quite know what, only that it was good and special and exciting and lightning fast.
She couldn’t describe how it made her feel, even to herself, but was drawn to Jo’s mouth when she spoke, the way she threw her head back when she laughed – really going for it – nothing forced or put on. Everything they talked about was interesting and fun. They’d take cinema over TV. They liked fast cars, good food, theatre, music. They enjoyed short city breaks, but also longer holidays by the sea that offered peace, quiet and the chance to be at one with nature.
The list went on and on …
At a quarter to midnight, with the party winding up to a crescendo, the noise level increasing, they found a place where they could be alone, adjourning to the garden with a bottle of wine, the din of someone singing Whitney Houston’s ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ drifting out through the patio doors.
Jo was grinning. ‘I don’t think she’d impress Simon Cowell.’
‘Who’d want to?’
In the house, they had managed to contain their attraction to one another. In the isolation of the garden, Kate sensed the possibility of … she didn’t know what, only that it brought a rush of blood to her face, a physical urge deep inside, a sexual tension enhanced by the fact that she wasn’t in a position to act on it.
Janet’s guest was driving her wild.
For a while, Kate and Jo had the space to themselves, but their private party ended all too soon. They were called in for Janet’s birthday cake, a speech from the new man in her life, Nigel. Then back outside for fireworks, whereupon Gary – the drunken lawyer – seized his chance to move in for a second hit.
Behind him, backlit by lights rigged in a weeping willow, Jo was mostly in silhouette. As she moved closer, her eyes twinkled in the firelight, a wry smile that seemed to say: get rid of this idiot. Surrounded by partygoers, Kate had a brief vision of her lying in bed, naked and sweaty. The fantasy – because that’s all it was – was short-lived on account of Gary’s continued antics.
Still, the image made Kate’s heart beat faster.
Clenching his fists, Gary turned them palms up and held them out to Kate. ‘I confess, I’m a sexual predator. Slap the cuffs on and take down my particulars, officer. In fact, forget the interrogation. Let’s go straight for the punishment.’ Snorting at his own pathetic chat-up line, he tripped, lurching forward, practically nose-diving into Kate’s cleavage.
She held him off, bored now.
And where was Jo?
A cool hand rested on Kate’s shoulder – one woman protecting another was her first thought – the gentlest of touches. Nothing about the gesture felt awkward. Quite the opposite. The hand moved slowly to the nape of her neck, barely noticeable, but a thrilling sensation all the same. Kate struggled to breathe as a cool, slender finger stroked her bare skin. Feather-light. Exquisite.
She didn’t turn around.
A fellow guest with a pronounced Geordie accent intervened. ‘C’mon, Gary, that’s enough, man. You’ve had your fun. If I were you, I’d leave before you get more than you bargained for. Kate deals with arseholes like you all day. Give her some space, eh?’
The hand was lifted as Gary shrugged off the man.
‘Did you hear that, Kate? They want me to piss off home.’
‘Why don’t you do that?’ she said, locking onto Nigel. ‘Do us all a favour and call him a cab.’
As he made the call, Janet was falling over herself to apologise as other friends managed to wrestle Gary away and propel him through the garden gate. Watching him go, not wanting to put a damper on the party, Kate rolled her eyes to the rest of them amid hoots of laughter and leg-pulling. She wanted them gone so she could be alone with Jo. Kate imagined her standing behind her, equally as impatient.
They too would leave the party … and then what?
Kate thought she knew.
‘What a prick.’ Nigel was far from happy. ‘Are you OK, Kate? I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t mind, but he wasn’t on the guest list.’
She answered with a shrug. ‘In my line of work, it comes with the territory.’
‘He won’t remember a thing tomorrow.’
‘Oh, he will … when I remind the dozy sod.’ Kate held up her mobile, pressed pla
y on the Voice Memos app reproducing Gary’s chat-up line, then switched off the recording. ‘I’ll keep that in case he ever makes Home Secretary, then it’ll be my ringtone.’
Everyone fell about, including Nigel.
‘You’re such a sport,’ he said.
‘It was that or deck him.’ She turned, expecting to find Jo standing behind her, enjoying the banter. She was nowhere in sight. She’d vanished into the night leaving Kate baffled and in a state of utter despair.
18
As Kate made her way along the corridor towards the Casualty Bureau, Hank touched her forearm, stopping her from pushing through the double doors leading to the open-plan, no-expense-spared incident room. He leaned in, almost a whisper. ‘You’re going to have to spell it out for me, Kate. I still don’t get why Jo would be interested in the guy she spoke to at the airport.’
Kate stopped walking and turned to face him. ‘Why not?’
His eyes widened. ‘He’s a bloke—’
‘Oh, for God’s sake. What century are you in? She was married to one, remember?’
‘Are you telling me she’s bi? She loves you.’
‘And I love her, even though I took Fiona to bed. Don’t judge me, Hank. Despite what people think, I’m not a machine. I needed someone. Anyone. Actually, that’s not fair. Fiona is a wonderful woman. And spare me the black looks. Coming from you, they won’t wash. It’s not like you never shagged anyone behind Julie’s back, is it? And you weren’t even separated. In fact, as I recall, she was pregnant at the time.’
‘I didn’t know that—’
‘And that makes it OK? You were married, Hank. I’m not. Neither was I in a relationship at the time.’
He looked away.
He’d made a mistake years ago and been caught in a hotel room with a hooker when his wife turned up unexpectedly to surprise him with the news that they were expecting their first child. It certainly was a surprise. Their marriage survived, though trust had been an issue since.
Feeling bad about dredging it up, Kate apologised. ‘What I said was uncalled for. Hey, think about it.’ A half-smile. ‘For once, we’re agreeing with each other. A quick screw is one thing. Love is something else entirely. Even Julie knows that. And, apart from the information desk clerk we’ve yet to trace, the guy Jo met is the one person we know of that she had any direct contact with at the airport. Who knows what went on afterwards?’
