The Visitor (#3 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) (26 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Sunday.

Daylight seeped through Katy’s curtains, waking her. She groped for the clock, confused about the time. Nine am. Not as early as she thought, but bad enough on a Sunday. She could hear Natalie bashing about in the bathroom, in her version of ‘being quiet’. She kept surgeons’ hours, so this was probably a lie-in for her. But with the amount of red wine they’d drunk last night, Katy hadn’t expected to see even her before lunch.

Her natural hostess kicked in and she dragged herself into a dressing gown. Opening the bedroom door just in time to see Natalie sneak down the hall, in what was probably her quietest tiptoe.

“Sorry Kate. Did I wake you? I have to go. I’ve work to do on my research paper. Owens wants to see it on Tuesday, so I need to get my skates on. Thanks for the Chinese. And keep me up to date with macho Craig and his merry men. Your life’s far more exciting than mine nowadays.”

Katy lied politely. “You didn’t wake me. It’s time I was up anyway. Do you have to go? If you fancy some breakfast we could go out for coffee and muffins.” She was praying for a refusal. Sleep was much more attractive than any muffin.

“Nah - you go and get your beauty sleep.”

“I need to buzz you out the gate. Are you sure you’re sober enough to drive?”

“God yes – my body’s very efficient, I had a misspent youth. You’re a hopeless drinker, by the way, Stevens. No stamina at all. I don’t suppose you fancy lunch at Cutters Wharf about twelve? It looks like being a sunny day.”

“Only if I can drink water.”

“Wimp! OK, let me see how much headway I make with this paper and I’ll call you.” Then she laughed. “I sound just like a man. Sneaking out and saying I’ll call you.” They both smiled ruefully.

By the time Natalie reached her car, Katy was leaning sleepily out the window pointing the remote at the gate. It was a warm, hazy morning, and some excitable joggers were already running across the Albert Bridge, training for the May Marathon. Central Railway’s sign was visible in the distance. Although sometimes broken letters meant that it was ‘entral ‘ailway’ that people travelled on.

The usual row of cars was parked outside the apartments’ gates. Sunday shoppers saving on parking fees - preferring five minutes’ walk into town to a sixty pound ticket. She watched Natalie leave and then clambered back into bed headfirst, tossing up between breakfast and sleep. Sleep won.

***

The pink patterned duvet cover swirled violently in front of Beth’s eyes and she knew that she was going to be sick. She’d barely reached the bathroom before she retched repeatedly, until there was only bile coming. What time was it? The only thing she could remember was a cab collecting her at the nurses’ home, and then time evaporated. Kneeling over a toilet bowl wasn’t helping with her recall.

She glanced down at her knees and realised she was still wearing what she’d gone out in. Shit! She’d missed work. Sister Johns would eat her alive. Then she threw up again, not finished yet. Resting back on her ankles, she suddenly remembered that she was on ‘gardening leave’. The polite NHS term for ‘suspension, pending enquiries’. In this case, police enquiries.

Her head throbbed in vicious waves and the image of Evie hanging across the bed came back to her, with a force that put tears in her eyes. She buried her face in her hands as the week’s events ran through her mind like an old movie. Could I have stopped her dying? I shouldn’t have left her. I shouldn’t have left her alone.

***

The slide focused and then blurred, and John twisted the microscope’s dial angrily. Even science was letting him down now. He hadn’t slept all night, going over Craig’s words a hundred times in his head. He’d finally given up trying at five o’clock and driven to the lab, the only place in life where he felt one hundred percent safe. But he was too tired to work. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, trying to make sense of things.

What if loving Natalie meant that he would always be a mess? Just more or less of one, depending on his emotions that day. He couldn’t work like this. He couldn’t live in this chaos. He needed to control his environment, not have it control him.

He slammed the slide down hard on the desk and it splintered into a prism. A thick shard of glass shaved off and pierced the palm of his hand, and he watched in numb fascination as his blood dripped onto the bench. Powerless to stem its flow, and more out of control than he’d been since he was a child.

***

Craig heard Julia tiptoeing around the kitchen and then the clink of mugs being set beside him. The soft sounds of Sunday filled the street outside, giving the time as late morning. He pressed his phone quickly. Eleven o’clock. He was shocked. He hadn’t slept so well for weeks. Then he remembered what had happened the night before and guilt overwhelmed him.

Not guilt that they’d made love - they’d done that plenty of times before. But guilt that he’d ruined their dinner the night before, when this was their first weekend together in weeks. He needn’t have worried.

Julia was holding a coffee towards him, with a soft smile that said she knew his thoughts. He opened his mouth to explain and she put a slim finger to his lips. “Shhh...Let me speak Marc. I have things to say.” He nodded and she removed her finger, while he sat, mute and surprised by it all. Then she started speaking quickly, tripping over the words, desperate to get them out.

“Thank you for coming home when I texted. I meant to say all this at dinner, but...but your father was ill, and then you were called away so urgently.” He felt a quick flash of guilt about his eagerness to leave the restaurant, and winced inwardly.

“I know you’re on an important case, so I was going to wait until my next trip to say this. But then I couldn’t sleep, and we’ve only got another day together.”

She hesitated and glanced away, her voice breaking. “Marc...I’m sorry, but things aren’t working for me long distance. Either...either something has to change, or...we need to stop seeing each other.”

Every emotion available ran through him. Relief that she’d mentioned the distance when he’d been thinking about it all week. And then guilt at his relief. Gratitude that she’d tackled things head-on, but vague pique that she mightn’t want him. And surprise at her complete self-control, last night and now.

She laughed weakly as the kaleidoscope of feelings crossed his face. “OK, let me just say this. You’re great, Marc. Nice, kind, sexy...all the good stuff.”

“But?”

“But you’re also a workaholic. You’re totally obsessed by your job, and I spend my days waiting for calls that never come. It’s just as well that I know you’re faithful or I might take it personally.” Her voice softened and she smiled. “But I know I’m not competing with anyone but your victims, and I can’t fault you for that.”

The job. As usual. A detective’s work got more attention than any woman did.

“I’ve been feeling this for weeks now, Marco. I love my job, but your work
really
comes first. It’s a wall between you and the rest of the world at times. The real world. The one where people don’t go around murdering each other and thinking of worse and worse ways to do it. And you’re just like John, you love it. It’s a game of cops and robbers for both of you.”

He went to say something and her finger closed his lips again. All at once he saw how sad her eyes were, and how dangerously close to tears.

“No, don’t stop me, please. The last thing I want is to stop seeing you, Marc, and I know how hard you work. But I can’t cope with us only being together the odd day here and there.”

Her voice broke and he could see that all her bravado was a front. Then she started again urgently, rushing through her words, as if stopping now would mean that they would never get said. “This distance and travel is killing me. I spend every day missing you. I need a real relationship now. I need to
see
you.”

She stopped, spent, and stared mutely at the floor. After a minute of silence he reached over and turned her face gently towards him. He stared into her soft blue eyes, willing her to hear his thoughts. And in that split second he knew exactly what he wanted her to hear. ‘I love you, Julia.’ He felt it with a certainty that he hadn’t felt for years. Too many years. Since Camille.

She was talking again, stumbling through the words in her high clear voice. “It...maybe it means I’m selfish...I don’t know...Is it selfish to want to be with you? Maybe...And I feel guilty for being demanding, because I know that you’re helping people. Helping find their killers, and making people safe ...but...”

Suddenly she sobbed and the brightness in her eyes became tears that ran gently down her cheeks and across her freckled nose. She wiped them away with her fist, like a child, and he reached out urgently and took her in his arms, kissing her softly on the lips.

She tried to talk on but he covered her lips firmly. Unable to bear her sad asking, for something that he should have given her already. Something she should never have had to ask for. He was angry with himself for his thoughtlessness and blind obsession.

He kissed her for a long time. Long enough to still her crying, and her words. Then he pulled away slowly and gazed at her vulnerability, saying the words that she was desperate to hear. “I love you, Julia. I really love you. And I want us to be together.”

Her tears flowed again as she laughed at him, astounded. Craig smiled at her, laughing at the fact that tears could mean so many different things. Then she climbed into bed beside him, kissing him softly, and they started to make plans for their future together.

***

The window was open onto the street and Katy pulled on her favourite shirt and jeans and sat beside it, shaking her long waves dry in the warm air. A single blue car was parked in the street below now and the joggers had completely disappeared. Gone for a muffin.

She left for Cutters Wharf at eleven-forty, already late, and pulled hurriedly out through the gate, missing the car start its engine to follow her. She was halfway to Stranmillis before she noticed that it was behind her. Maybe they were going to Cutters too? It was a popular venue. But she felt slightly edgy.

She found a space outside the bar, checking twice that she’d locked her doors, and scanned Lockview Road quickly just in case. There was no sign of the car and she laughed at her jitters. Paranoia. That’s what came from mixing with the police all week.

Lunch was a quiet, tea-total affair. They were both tired from the night before’s drinking and the MSG buzz from the takeaway. Finally even Natalie admitted that they weren’t nineteen anymore. She headed back to her research, leaving Katy with the luxury of a free afternoon. She knew that she should do her letters, but it had been a bad week, so she rang her mother instead.

“Hi Mum. I was going to nip up for a cup of tea. How would that be?”

“Lovely, dear. Whatever time you like.”

“Would you like anything brought in?”

“Just some milk.”

“I’ll be fifteen minutes. Pop the kettle on.”

As she pulled off, heading up Stranmillis towards the Malone Road, Katy saw the blue car again. She wasn’t paranoid - it was definitely following her. She noted the number as they drove through the traffic, hoping they wouldn’t try anything in broad daylight. They stayed one car behind her the whole way to her mother’s small bungalow opposite Musgrave Park. Her mother was standing at the door waving brightly as she pulled in.

“Hi Mum. I’ll just run over to the garage and get the milk.”

As she crossed the road, Katy noticed that the car had parked opposite, beside the Vet’s surgery. Part of her was tempted to just knock its window, but common sense kicked in and she fished out Craig’s business card instead. She paused before she phoned, reaching for her mirror. And then couldn’t believe that she’d checked her make-up to call him!

He answered the call quickly, catching her unawares. “D.C.I. Craig.”

“Oh, yes, sorry.” There was a moment’s silence.

“Why are you sorry, Madam? And may I ask who this is please?”

“It’s Katy Stevens. We met the other day. You probably don’t remember me. You meet lots of people. Anyway, you interrogated me.”

Katy realised what she’d said and stopped - she was babbling. She noticed that he had a deep voice and a slight accent that she couldn’t place. She hadn’t noticed it before. She crossed the road quickly and walked back to the house as she talked.

Her mother appeared at the front door, carrying a heavy tray heaped with cake and biscuits. Katy moved forward to take it.

“Mum, let me carry that – it’s too heavy for you.”

Then she heard a laugh and realised that he was still on the phone. His laugh made her feel defensive and she could feel a huff developing in her own voice. “Oh, sorry, I forgot you were still there. It’s probably nothing, so just forget it.”

“No, please tell me what’s happened, Dr Stevens.” The authority in his voice said that he needed to know and she felt less foolish.

“You said to call if anything happened.”

Just then Julia came into the bedroom and handed Craig an espresso. He smiled up at her and then shook himself back into professional mode. “Yes I did. Tell me exactly what’s happened, Dr Stevens.”