The Night Stalker (Detective Erika Foster 2)

Then, almost two years previously, Erika had led the disastrous drug raid that had resulted in the death of Mark and four of their colleagues. Afterwards, the grief and burden of guilt had at times seemed too great to bear, and she had struggled to find her place in the world without her husband. A fresh start in London had been tough, but her work in the Homicide and Serious Crime Command within the Metropolitan Police was the one thing she had been able to pour her energy into. But where she had once been a rising star in the force, now she was tainted, and her career progression had ground to a halt. She was direct, driven and a brilliant officer who didn’t suffer fools – but she had no time for the politics of the force, and she had clashed repeatedly with her superiors, making some powerful enemies.

Erika lit another cigarette, and she was just deciding she would make an excuse to leave quickly when the glass door opened behind her. Isaac poked his head round and came onto the balcony.

‘I could use one of those,’ he said, closing the door and moving over to where she stood by the iron railing. She smiled and offered him the packet. He teased one out with a large, elegant hand and leaned over as she lit it for him.

‘Sorry, I really screwed up tonight,’ he said, straightening up and exhaling smoke.

‘It’s your life,’ said Erika. ‘But you could have given me a heads-up.’

‘It all happened so quickly. He showed up this morning on the doorstep and all day we’ve been talking and… I won’t spell it out. It was too late to cancel, not that I wanted to cancel.’

Erika could see the angst playing over his face. ‘Isaac, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. Although, if I were you, I’d pick lust as your explanation. You were overcome by lust. It’s much more forgivable.’

‘I know he’s a complicated individual, but he’s different when we’re alone together. He’s vulnerable. Do you think if I approached it in the right way, if I set proper boundaries, it could work this time?’

‘Possibly… And at least he can’t kill you off again,’ said Erika wryly.

Stephen had based a forensic pathologist in one of his novels on Isaac, only to kill the character off in a rather graphic gay bashing.

‘I’m serious. What do you think I should do?’ asked Isaac, his eyes filled with angst.

Erika sighed and took his hand in hers. ‘You don’t want to hear what I think. I like being friends with you.’

‘I value your opinion, Erika. Please, tell me what I should do…’

There was a creak as the glass door opened. Stephen emerged barefoot, carrying a full tumbler of whisky and ice. ‘Tell him what he should do? About what?’ he asked tartly.

The awkward silence was broken by a message alert tone chiming from the depths of Erika’s bag. She pulled out her phone and read the message, frowning.

‘Everything okay?’ asked Isaac.

‘The body of a white male has been discovered in a house in Laurel Road, Honor Oak Park. Looks suspicious,’ said Erika, adding, ‘Shit, I haven’t got my car. I took a cab here.’

‘You’ll need to assign a forensic pathologist. I could take you in my car?’ said Isaac.

‘I thought you had the night off?’ Stephen demanded, indignantly.

‘I’m always on duty, Stevie,’ replied Isaac, looking eager to leave.

‘Okay, then, let’s go,’ said Erika, and couldn’t resist adding to Stephen, ‘looks like coffee from your machine will have to wait.’

4

Erika and Isaac arrived at Laurel Road half an hour later, their awkward dinner party rapidly forgotten. Police tape closed off the road in both directions and support vehicles added to the cordon: a police van, four squad cars and an ambulance. The vehicles’ blue lights pulsed across the long row of terraced houses. In several of the front windows and doorways, neighbours stood gawking at the scene.

Detective Inspector Moss, one of Erika’s most trusted colleagues, walked over to meet their car as it pulled into a space a hundred yards down from the police cordon. She was a short, solid woman and was sweating profusely in the heat, despite her knee-length skirt and thin blouse. Her red hair was pulled back from her face, which was awash with freckles – a small group of them clustered under her eye, forming what looked like a tear. However, in contrast to this, she was upbeat, and gave Erika and Isaac a wry grin as they got out of the car.

‘Evening, boss, Dr Strong.’

‘Evening, Moss,’ said Isaac.

‘Evening. Who are all these people?’ Erika asked, as they approached the police tape, where a group of tired-looking men and women stood staring at the scene.