The Calling of the Grave (33 page)

    'You
need to stir that,' I said, and went upstairs.

    My
bag was back in my room. I threw the rest of my things into it. The last thing
I felt like was a long drive back to London. But

    Sophie
was safe with Miller and Cross there. There was no longer any reason for me to
stay, and I'd had enough of feeling used.

    I'd
finished packing when I heard a noise from the doorway. Sophie was watching me.

    'What
are you doing?'

    I
zipped the bag shut. 'It's time I left.'

    'Now?'
She looked surprised.

    'You've
got two armed guards. You'll be fine.'

    'David
. . .' She closed her eyes, fingers rubbing her temple. 'God, I can't believe
Terry Connors can still cause trouble after all this time! All right, I know I
should have said something, OK? I'm sorry. I was going to, just. . . not yet.
It isn't something I'm proud of. I was going through a bad patch and ... it
sort of happened. It didn't go on for long, not much more than a fling, really.
He told me he was separated, that he was waiting for his divorce to come
through. As soon as I realized he was lying I ended it. And that's it.' She was
watching me nervously, her expression sincere.

    'Had
you been seeing him recently?' I asked.

    'No,
I swear.' She came over, but stopped just in front of me. 'Stay tonight. If you
still feel the same way tomorrow, then I promise I won't try to stop you. But
don't leave like this. Please?'

    I
hesitated, then put down my bag. Sophie hugged me, her body tight against mine.
'I'm not always a very good person,' she said, her voice muffled.

    For
once I didn't want to believe her.

    Dinner
was surprisingly relaxed. That was largely down to Miller. He kept up a flowing
banter, so that the meal seemed more like a social occasion than guard duty.
Cross said little, smiling at her partner's jokes but content to leave the
conversational running to him. Sophie had opened a bottle of wine to go with
the lasagne she'd cooked - largely ignoring the suggestions from Miller -
although only she and I drank any. The police officers declined without making
a big deal of it, and I noticed that neither of them ate much either. They were
there to do a job, and full stomachs slowed reflexes.

    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.