I hoped they wouldn't need them.
Naysmith had phoned earlier to check on us. The SIO was brisk and businesslike when I took the phone from Miller to speak to him.
'Is there any news about Monk?' I asked.
'Not yet.'
'I just wondered if something had happened to make you put Sophie under close protection. DI Roper didn't seem keen on the idea earlier.'
'DI Roper isn't the SIO, I am,' he said. 'We found Monk's fingerprints on the phone box, which confirms he's tried to contact her. As far as I'm concerned that justifies taking whatever measures are necessary.'
'I'm not complaining. I'm just surprised Simms approved it.'
There was a pause. 'As I said, I'm SIO. The ACC is too busy to be bothered with every operational detail.'
In other words the decision had been Naysmith's, not Simms'. Tensions between the SIO and his immediate superior were nothing new on any investigation, but I hoped they wouldn't get in the way.
'You've got two good officers there,' Naysmith went on. 'Their orders are not to take any chances, so whatever they tell you to do, you do it. No arguments, no debates. Clear?'
I said it was.
Monk wasn't mentioned during dinner, but despite Miller's best efforts the convict's presence loomed over the table like an unwanted guest. The police officers had checked the entire house, closing all the curtains so that anyone outside wouldn't be able to see in. And I noticed how they'd subtly engineered the seating so that they flanked Sophie, with Miller closest to the door and Cross between her and the window.
It was only afterwards, when the empty dishes had been stacked in the sink, that the reason for them being there was finally addressed.
Sophie reached for the bottle of wine. I shook my head when she made to refill my glass; she poured what was left into her own and set the bottle down with a thump.
'So how long have you two been doing this?' she asked, taking a drink.
'Too long,' Miller said. Cross just smiled.
'Do you always work together as a team?'
'Not always. Depends on the job.'
'Right.' Sophie was unsteady as she set down her glass. Suddenly she seemed drunk. I hadn't been paying attention, but she must have had more wine than I'd thought. 'So are the two of you . . . you know ... an item?'
For once Miller seemed lost for words. It was Cross who answered. 'We just work together.'
'Right. Colleagues.' Sophie waved her hand at the guns holstered on their hips. 'Aren't you uncomfortable wearing those?'
Miller had regained his poise, but there was a faint blush on his cheeks. 'You get used to it.'
'Can I take a look?'
'Best not.' He said it lightly enough, although it was obvious that he wasn't happy. Cross was watching Sophie with her usual Zen-like calm, the blue eyes unreadable. But the atmosphere around the table had abruptly changed.
Sophie seemed oblivious. 'Have you ever used them?'
'Well, they like us to know which end the bullets come out of.'
'But have you ever shot anyone?'
'Sophie . . .' I began.
'It's a legitimate question.' She stumbled over 'legitimate'. 'If Monk walked in here, now, would you be able to kill him?'
Miller exchanged a quick look with Cross. 'Let's hope it doesn't come to that.'
'Yes, but if he did—'
'Who'd like coffee?' I said.
Miller seized on the opening. 'Sounds good. I'm ready for a caffeine fix.'
Sophie blinked, as though she were struggling to keep up. 'Coffee? Oh . . . right, sorry.'
'I'll get it,' I offered.
'No, it's OK.' She stood up but clutched the table as she suddenly swayed. 'Whoa . . .'
I reached out to support her. 'Are you all right?'
Her face had paled but she tried to smile as she straightened. 'God . . . what was in that wine?'
'Why don't you go to bed?' I said.
'I ... I think I'd better.'
I went upstairs with her. 'How are you feeling?' I asked when we reached the bedroom.
'Just a bit woozy.' She was still pale but looked better than she had downstairs .'My own fault. All that wine when I've hardly eaten all day.'
Reaction was probably as much to blame as the wine. She'd been through enough to affect anyone, but I was mindful that she was still recovering from concussion.
'Are you sure you're OK?'
'I'm fine. You go back downstairs.' She smiled tiredly. 'I really am a rotten host.'
I went down to the kitchen. I could hear murmured voices but they fell silent as I approached. Miller was by the window, the curtain swinging as though it had been disturbed. Cross was leaning against the table, the denim of her jeans tight against her muscular legs. They regarded me with professionally bland faces.
'How is she?' Miller asked. I noticed he had his radio in his hand.
'Just tired. Has something happened?'
'Naw, I'm just checking in.' He slipped the radio away. 'That offer of coffee still on?'
I put the kettle on to boil and spooned instant coffee into three mugs.
'Not for me, thanks,' Cross said.
'Steph doesn't do tea or coffee,' Miller told me. 'Caffeine's poison, and don't even mention refined sugar. Two in mine, please.'
It had the sound of an old argument neither of them took seriously. Cross pushed herself off the table as I poured boiling water into two mugs.
'Time to do the rounds.'
I watched her go, then turned to Miller. 'She isn't going outside by herself?'
'No, just seeing that everything's locked up.'
'I thought you'd already checked?'
'Never hurts to make sure.' He said it lightly, but I realized it was in case Sophie or I had unlocked anything. They weren't leaving anything to chance.
I passed him a mug. 'Can I ask something?'
'Fire away.'
'What happens if Monk does come?'
He blew on the coffee to cool it. 'Then we get to earn our wages.'
'You know how dangerous he is?'
'Don't worry, we've been briefed. And we've heard the stories about him.'
'They aren't stories.'
'We won't underestimate him, if that's what you're worried about. If he tries anything, we stop him. Simple as that.'
I hoped it would be. Miller took a sip of coffee, pulling a face at the heat. 'If it's Steph that's bothering you, don't let it. She can look after herself.'
'I'm sure she can.'
'But you'd have been happier if it was two men?'
I didn't like to admit it, but he was right. I didn't consider myself a chauvinist but Cross was half the convict's size. 'You haven't met Monk. I have.'
'And he's a rapist and a monster and all the rest. I know.' Miller's usual brashness had gone. 'Steph's a better shot than I am, she's faster and she could take me in a fight any day. When she was in uniform a crackhead decked her partner one night and pulled a knife on her. I've seen the file. He was six two and thirteen stone. She took the knife off him, put him on the floor and cuffed him without any back-up. And that was before she got her third dan in karate.'
There was a half-smile on his face as he spoke, but I don't think he was aware of it. I thought of how he'd blushed when Sophie had asked if he and Cross were an item. Perhaps not, but they were certainly more than colleagues.
At least as far as Miller was concerned.
'We're not here to arrest Monk, our job's to protect Sophie,' he went on. 'At the first sign of trouble we're getting you both the hell out of here. Failing that . . .Well, I don't care how big he is, he's not bullet-proof.'
He gave a cheerful grin that wrinkled the corners of his eyes. Perhaps because I was looking for it I saw the hardness behind them now.
'Do you want a hand with the dishes?' he asked.
It wasn't much longer before I went to bed myself. I left Miller and Cross sitting at the kitchen table, comfortable in each other's company. The
only spare room was the one I was in, but Miller assured me neither of them would be sleeping.
I was glad they were there, but it felt strange going to bed and leaving them downstairs. I paused outside Sophie's room, considering knocking to see if she was all right. But there was no sound from inside, so I guessed she was asleep.
I went into my own room and crossed to the window without turning on the light. The fog made the starless night doubly impenetrable. I tried to make out shapes in it until the cold radiating from the glass made me lower the curtain.
I was tired but I didn't think I'd be able to sleep. There was too much adrenalin racing through my system. I should have felt relaxed with the two armed officers downstairs, but instead I felt restless and pensive. As though I were waiting for something to happen.
If it does it'll all be over before you can do anything about it. Miller was right: no matter how dangerous Monk might be, he wasn't bullet-proof.
Even so, instead of getting undressed I lay on the bed fully clothed. Christ, what a day. I stared at the darkened ceiling, thinking about Monk, about Simms and Wainwright. And about Sophie and Terry. As my eyelids grew heavy it seemed there was a connection there I could almost see, a tenuous link that hovered frustratingly out of sight. . .
Someone was shaking me. I woke in a panic to find Miller standing by the bed with a torch in his hand. If he thought it was odd to see me lying there fully dressed he gave no sign.
'Get up, we need to go.'
The last rags of sleep fell away. Blinking against the brightness, I swung my legs off the bed.
'What's happened?'
There was nothing affable about Miller now. His face was grim as he headed back towards the landing.
'Monk's coming.'
* * *
Chapter 24
I hurried after him. The torch beam made the landing and stairs unfamiliar in the darkness.
'What do you mean?'
'He's on his way.' Miller didn't slow. 'Grab your coat but don't turn on any lights. We're leaving in two minutes.'
As he went to the window at the end of the landing the door to Sophie's room opened and Cross emerged. 'She's getting dressed,' she told him. Miller gave a nod, easing back the curtain to peer out of the window as she went downstairs.
I was struggling to take it all in. 'How do you know he's coming?'
He spoke without turning, eyes scanning the fog-thick darkness. 'He called again.'
'I didn't hear the phone.'
'We unplugged the upstairs extension so if he rang we could answer it ourselves.' Miller let the curtain drop. 'We're trying to get a location but it'll take time. So we're getting you both out.'
'Just because he phoned again?'
'No, because he thought Steph was Sophie. He told her he was in Padbury and said he was on his way.'
'Why would he warn her?'
'No idea. Could be a bluff but we aren't going to stick around to find out.' He handed me the torch. 'Go and get Sophie. Thirty seconds and we're out of here whether she's dressed or not.'
My mind still felt sluggish. Come on, wake up! I hurried into the bedroom, expecting to find Sophie dressed and ready. But in the light of the torch I found her sitting on the edge of the bed, the duvet draped loosely around her as she held her head in her hands.
'Come on, Sophie, we've got to go.'
'I don't want to.' Her voice was sleepy and muffled. 'I don't feel so good.'
I began searching round for her clothes. 'You can rest later. Monk could be here any second.'
She shielded her eyes from the torch. 'God, how much wine did I have?'
'Sophie, we need to leave.' I handed her the clothes I'd snatched up. 'I know you don't want to but we don't have any choice.'
I half expected her to refuse, that we would get into the safe house argument again. But she meekly took her clothes and stood up, letting the duvet fall. She was wearing a T-shirt but I looked away as she began to get dressed.
Cross appeared in the doorway. 'Ready?'
'Nearly.'
She waited for us as Sophie finished pulling on her clothes. Miller was waiting by the front door when we went downstairs, the hallway still in darkness. I gave him back the torch.
'We're just going to walk out to our car, nice and quiet,' he said as I pulled on my boots and fastened my coat, then helped Sophie fumble into hers. 'I'll go first, then you two. Nice and fast but don't run. Steph'll be right behind you. Get in the back of the car and lock the doors. OK?'
Sophie gave an uncertain nod, leaning against me. Miller tried to slide back the bolts quietly, but they still sounded like gunshots in the quiet. Drawing his gun, he opened the door in one smooth movement.
Cold, damp air rolled into the hallway. Outside it was pitch black. The beam from Miller's torch bounced back from the thick fog that had closed in around the house. I felt Sophie's hand tighten on mine.
'Stay close,' Miller said, and started down the path.
Mist blanketed everything. Even Miller was just a dark shape, silhouetted against the glow from the torch as he led us towards the gate. The fog seemed to soak up noise as well as light. Only the deadened scuff of our footsteps told me we were still on the path. When I glanced back at Sophie I could barely make out her face, even though she was right behind me.
The gate creaked as Miller held it open, and then we were on the lane. The hazy outline of their car took shape in front of us, its lights flashing with an electronic squawk as he unlocked it.
'OK, get in.'
The car's interior was cold as I slid into the back seat beside Sophie. Cross shut the door behind me and climbed into the front as Miller started the engine. There was a thunk as the locks engaged and then we were accelerating away, the headlights showing a wall of grey fog.
No one spoke. Cross murmured briefly into her radio, then fell silent again. Miller sat forward in his seat, trying to make out the road. Padbury lay behind us, but it was impossible to get any sense of where we were. It was like driving on the sea bed. The fog swirled like plankton in the headlights, half-seen shapes emerging briefly before disappearing again.
For all that, Miller kept up a good speed, shoulders hunched with concentration. After a few miles the sense of tension in the car began to ease.
'Well, that was fun,' Miller said. 'You OK back there?'
'Where are we going?' Sophie asked. She sounded exhausted.
'We're going to take you to a safe house for the time being. Only temporary, but we can sort out what's happening after that tomorrow.'
They'd obviously had a contingency plan worked out. I waited for Sophie to object, but she seemed past caring. In the darkness of the car I could just see her rubbing her head.
'Sophie? Are you all right?' I asked.
'I don't—' she began, and then Miller yelled, 'Shit!' as a figure materialized from the fog in front of us.
There was a glimpse of outstretched arms and flapping coat, then Sophie was flung against me as Miller braked and swerved. But not in time. We hit the figure full on, but instead of the expected thud of impact it disintegrated in a blizzard of fragments and cloth. The car slewed, throwing me hard against the side window as Miller fought for control.
He almost made it. Fragments of glass peppered us as he punched a hole through the windscreen, letting in a cold blast of air. The car briefly seemed to level out, and I had time to think, Thank God. Then there was a crunching jolt and everything tipped sideways. The car seemed to hang weightless, then something slammed into me. The world became a tumbling confusion of darkness and noise. I was flung around without any sense of up or down.
Then there was stillness.
Gradually, sounds and sensations began to reassert themselves. A faint ticking, the steady drip-drip of rain. I could feel it against my face, along with cold air, but it was too dark to see. I was sitting upright but at an angle. Something was constricting my chest, making it hard to breathe. I groped at it with hands that felt leaden and clumsy. I w
as coated with a fine powder: residue from the airbags. They'd deflated now, draped out like pale tongues. But the seatbelt still held me in place, stretched taut across me like an iron band. I fumbled to unfasten it, shedding pebble-like pieces of broken glass, and slid down the seat as it slithered free.
The Calling of the Grave Page 23
