Private London (Private 4)

‘We’re running a DNA analysis through the system on the second Jane Doe. The first one came back with one nothing, but it took over three weeks to do it. I haven’t got three weeks. Whoever is doing this needs to be stopped. And it seems to me he’s escalating.’

‘You want to use our labs?’

‘Yeah. And in return I’ll get you everything we’ve got on the Hannah Shapiro case. Off the record.’

‘I’d appreciate it.’

‘Chloe means a lot to me too, Dan.’

And she did. Chloe’s father had been my best man and Kirsty had loved him as much as I did. His death had sent me off the rails and I didn’t see at the time that she was grieving too: I’d been too selfish to share my own grief. She hadn’t been to Iraq, she hadn’t seen what I had. I’d been too wrapped up in my own self-pity to see how much I was hurting her. I was destroying our marriage but I didn’t care. Caring meant feeling.

We talked some more. I don’t know for how long. Ten minutes? Twenty minutes? Kirsty drank more brandy and I had a couple more Coronas. I lost count.

I remember opening the fridge door and taking the last bottle off the shelf. I turned round to open it and there she was, in the small kitchen with me, and I had nowhere left to run.

Somehow she was in my arms, our lips were on each other’s. Our breath hot. Her tongue flicking in my mouth. She fumbled loose my belt and undid my trousers so that they pooled around my ankles. She reached in and took hold of me with her familiar, knowing hand. She bit into my neck as I cupped my hands on her perfectly toned buttocks and pulled her against me. I was already rock-hard.

I hadn’t expected to be making love to my ex-wife on our wedding anniversary.

It turned out that was the least of my problems.

Part Four

Chapter 64

I OPENED MY eyes with a start.

The clock on my bedside cabinet read 05:59. I watched it for a few seconds and it clicked over to 06:00. The radio alarm switched on. I tapped the button to turn it off and closed my eyes again.

I did that most mornings. I don’t know why I bothered with the alarm. Since my army days I could pretty much tell myself when I wanted to wake up. And I did.

My head didn’t feel as bad as it should have done. I had drunk far too many beers. Maybe the workout had compensated.

I smiled a little. Little bit guilty. Little bit pleased with myself. Little bit co

nfused about what I was feeling, if I’m honest.

Kirsty had gone at about four o’clock. She had been groaning when she awoke. She didn’t kiss me goodbye when she left. In fact, she didn’t say a word. I remember her picking up her boots and almost tiptoeing out of my bedroom like a naughty adolescent. I smiled briefly again but couldn’t afford the luxury of letting my thoughts linger. I opened my eyes again. Time to go to work.

I swung my legs out of bed and yawned, turning it into a shout and shaking my head as I did so. I wasn’t feeling as bad as I should have been, but there were a few cobwebs to shake loose.

An hour and fifteen minutes later and I was on the treadmill at the gym. I had already done a full workout – weights and cardiovascular – and was warming down.

Sam Riddel was on the treadmill next to me. He hadn’t had as long a workout, but then again he probably hadn’t drunk a shedload of Corona beer. Far as I knew you don’t get hangovers from mineral water. We hadn’t spoken. He’d just nodded at me and gone through his weights routine.

Sam looked across at me now. There was a slight, questioning wrinkle on his forehead.

‘You seem in a particularly good mood this morning,’ he said.

‘I just got a call from the hospital. Chloe has come out of the coma. She’s still critical. Still in intensive care, but she spoke to her mother and is sleeping naturally now.’

‘That’s great news, Dan.’

‘Word,’ I said. I can be down with my homies when I want.

He looked at me again, even more suspiciously. ‘You get your ashes hauled last night?’ he asked.

‘A gentleman never tells.’