Ready or Not (32 page)

             
But this…

             
Her body shuddered at the notion that she had almost allowed herself to be seduced by a man who may well be a killer.

             
She got out of bed and opened the door gently, careful not to disturb the silence of the flat and wake Chris. She glanced at the curve of his back beneath the duvet as she passed. She went into the kitchen and got herself a glass of water before heading back into the living room. Chris was sitting up on the sofa.

             
‘Sorry,’ she said, startled. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’

             
‘You didn’t. I wasn’t sleeping.’

             
Kate offered him a drink and Chris shook his head. He patted the sofa next to him, inviting her to sit down.

             
‘I couldn’t sleep either,’ Kate said, pushing the duvet aside. ‘I nodded off for a bit, but not long.’

             
‘I know,’ Chris said. He reached across and brushed an eyelash from her cheek. ‘You were talking in your sleep.’

             
‘When?’

             
‘About an hour ago.’

             
She sipped at her water and distractedly smoothed the duvet that Chris had laid under. Whatever she’d said whilst she was sleeping, she hoped it was nothing embarrassing or incriminating. She felt herself begin to colour and mentally cursed herself, willing the blush to cease. ‘What did I say?’

             
‘I don’t know, I couldn’t hear really. You called for Daniel at one point.’

             
Kate sighed. Even sleep betrayed her, she thought. She couldn’t be more of an open book; she might just as well wear her thoughts on a placard pinned to her chest.

             
‘It’s thirty years today, since he went missing.’

             
‘I know.’

             
‘How?’

             
‘The cross on the calendar.’

             
‘That could mean anything.’

             
‘Most people don’t remind themselves of a dental appointment with a thick black cross. Anyway, you told me the date.’

             
‘When?’

             
Chris shrugged. ‘A few years ago.’

             
Kate looked down at the duvet on her lap. She pulled at a stray strand of cotton that was coming loose from the seam and tugged sharply, snapping it free.

             
‘A few years ago and you still remember?’

             
Chris said nothing. Now wasn’t the time or place to tell her he remembered everything she told him.

             
‘You think I’m stupid, don’t you?’ Kate asked, after an awkward moment’s silence.

             
‘No, Katy, I don’t think you’re stupid. But I think you’re going to have to let go.’

             
‘Would you?’ she asked, looking up at him sadly. There was an edge to her tone that she couldn’t avoid. ‘If it was your brother, or sister, or Holly – would you let go?’

             
‘I don’t know,’ Chris admitted. ‘I can’t say how I’d react.’ He thought of Holly and knew exactly how he’d react. He would never give up on her. ‘But thirty years…’ he tried to reason.

             
‘Do you think he’ll look like me?’ Kate asked suddenly, turning face on to Chris.

             
He reached for her hand and pressed it gently on the sofa. ‘Stop,’ he said.

             
Kate pushed her hair away from her face with her free hand. Her palm against Chris’ felt clammy.

             
‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Chris said.

             
They’d had this conversation several times before and he had said the same thing, though each time she’d brushed it aside, choosing to ignore it. Or maybe she couldn’t help but ignore it. Maybe it was easier to blame herself for her brother’s disappearance. If it hadn’t been her fault then someone else was to blame, and where would she even begin to identify who that person was?

             
‘Of course it was,’ she said. ‘He was three years old. He shouldn’t have been on his own.’

             
‘Don’t you think your father suffered with the guilt of that?’ Chris said. ‘It was his job to be watching him, not yours. You were just a child.’

             
‘I only joined the police to find him,’ Kate confessed, though Chris already knew this to be the case. ‘Really stupid. Eleven years I’ve been doing this and I’ve found nothing. Perhaps some mysterious private investigator has been able to find out more than I have. Or maybe not.’ She laughed bitterly and thought of Sophie Davies’ scathing criticism of her abilities as a detective. The girl had a point. ‘I couldn’t find a kid in a classroom,’ she said.

             
Chris squeezed her hand in his. ‘Kate, you found two missing children today. Don’t they count for anything?’

             
‘Technically, one of them wasn’t missing,’ she reminded him.

             
‘You do an amazing job, Katy. And I’m not saying that because you’re a friend. I’m saying it because it’s true. But as a friend, when is looking going to end and living going to begin?’

             
Kate pulled her hand away. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

             
‘Look at this,’ he said, gesturing at the space around them. The movement reminded her of something Stuart would do and Kate narrowed her eyes, bracing herself for the attack. ‘You’re thirty seven years old and you’re still living in a one bedroom flat. When was the last time you had a night out?’

             
‘Last night,’ she reminded him quickly. 

             
Chris sighed and looked away, hurt by the reminder. ‘I’m not trying to be nasty to you, Kate,’ he said, ignoring the comment, ‘but shouldn’t there be more than this?’

             
She was insulted but refused to show it. Instead, Kate looked at him angrily.

             
‘What about you, Chris?’ she replied defensively. ‘A failed marriage and a daughter you hardly ever see – who are you to lecture me?’

             
As soon as the words had left her mouth she wished she hadn’t spoken them. She had never spoken to Chris in that way before and now she wished she’d bitten her tongue, but the damage was already done; he looked crushed.

             
‘Shit, Chris,’ she said, reaching again for his hand. ‘I didn’t mean that. I’m so sorry.’

             
Chris tried to shrug it off. ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘I probably deserved it.’ He pulled his hand away from hers and Kate knew straight away that it mattered.

             
‘No, you didn’t deserve it, it was out of order.’

             
‘True though.’

             
Kate looked down at her lap. ‘No. It’s not your fault Lydia left, and I know you see Holly as often as you can. I shouldn’t have said that.’

             
‘It was my fault,’ Chris disagreed. He thought of all the arguments leading up to Lydia’s leaving. There was plenty more he could have done to persuade her to stay; plenty of things he could have said – lies he could have told – to give her what she needed to hear. When it came down to it, he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t lie to her any longer. He couldn’t lie to himself. He couldn’t be bothered to maintain the pretence any longer.

             
He thought for a moment about saying something more, but decided it wasn’t the most appropriate time. Perhaps there would never be a right time to explain to Kate exactly why his wife had left him and taken their child with her. She could be naïve, he knew, but surely Kate wasn’t blind enough to miss what had been staring her in the face for so long?

             
‘Anyway,’ Kate said, breaking the silence. ‘You’re working things out, right?’

             
Chris gave her a blank look. ‘What do you mean?’

             
‘You and Lydia,’ Kate explained.

             
‘The divorce will be finalised in eight weeks.’

             
Kate was taken aback; firstly by Chris’ uncharacteristic openness about his relationship with his estranged wife; secondly by the fact that she had made such an obviously inaccurate assumption.

             
‘But I thought…’ she started. She stopped herself. She sounded stupid.

             
‘You thought…’

             
Kate shook her head. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

             
‘Can I ask you something?’ Chris asked suddenly. He shifted on the sofa and moved his body to face her fully, though his eyes were averted, avoiding hers. Kate nodded and waited for the question.

             
‘What were you going to say earlier?’

             
She looked blankly, waiting for a reminder.

             
‘When we were in the office and Matthew came in.’             

             
Kate reached for her glass on the table, took another sip of water and put it down again. ‘I can’t remember,’ she lied.

             
‘You said, ‘I wish…’ but you didn’t finish.’

             
She shrugged and smiled tiredly. ‘Sorry. Couldn’t have been important.’

             
She got up from the sofa and adjusted the cushions she had been sitting on.

             
‘We should try and get a couple of hours,’ she said.

             
Chris nodded, knowing she’d say no more. ‘Night, Katy.’

             
Back in bed she pulled the duvet tightly around her.

             
‘I wish things had been different for us,’ she finished in her head.

Saturday

Forty
Five

The briefing at the station the following morning was exactly that: brief. Beside the CCTV footage that showed Neil Davies had been with Joseph Ryan on the night he had been murdered, there was no concrete evidence to connect him to the crime. There was nothing yet to connect him to the murder of either Jamie Griffiths or Michael Morris; only the fact that each man had known a mysterious ‘Adam’. The sheer volume of lies that had left Neil Davies’ mouth rendered him guilty in the extreme, although it would be barely enough to hold him at the station, let alone secure a conviction.

             
All Kate had to do was keep him talking. They doubted that he would make a confession, but a mention of any of the men’s names would take them a small step closer. That failing, they would move in and make an arrest anyway. Perhaps they could hold him for wasting police time, having known where his son was during Kate’s investigation into his disappearance. Then there would be a race to secure enough evidence against Neil Davies before they were legally obliged to release him from custody; a DNA match with the blood found on the body of Jamie Griffiths, or one to the hair found on Joseph Ryan’s scarf being the ideal outcome.

             
The pressure weighing on Kate’s shoulders was immense. By befriending Neil she had put herself in a vulnerable position. He knew far too much about her, including where she lived, and if he was released due to lack of evidence against him there was no knowing what he might be capable of in revenge against her. No doubt Chris would insist on police protection, even if Clayton deemed it unnecessary. For now, however, all Neil knew was that Kate had successfully completed the Stacey Reed case and was still looking for his son. He had no way of knowing that she was in any way connected to a series of murder investigations.

             
Kate was to be wired up to a recorder that would tape the conversation between her and Neil. She had never done this before. Honey traps weren’t a police tactic she would usually have condoned outside of far-fetched Hollywood films, but in this instance she knew they had little other option. She knew that if she kept a cool head and kept him talking she would be fine, but that was bound to be even harder than anticipated.

             
Besides, there were going to be undercover police officers throughout the park, watching Neil’s every move. Chris wouldn’t be far away. There was no chance that in such a public place he would be able to do anything to threaten her safety.