“Is there CCTV in that car park?”
“No, and there damn well should be,” said Mr Sadler.
“Bear with me, sir.” Nell closed the glass divide as DC Oliver from the arson team came into the office. She briefed him, and they exchanged knowing looks. They needed to act quickly. She reopened the glass divide to speak to Mr Sadler. “One of my colleagues will go there now, sir.”
Mr Sadler looked supremely pleased.
The net was closing in. Buoyed by the thought, Nell returned to her own desk once another colleague was able to take up thefront office role. She was looking forward to being able to tell Lexi that her estranged husband was locked up and would stay that way for many years to come but an hour later, Oliver had bad news.
“By the time we reached the location, our suspect had moved on. If he’s left town, then there’s a chance we can track him via ANPR,” he said.
Damn. They’d been so close. Nell rang the hospital for an update on Lexi and her little boy. After she ended the call, she slumped back in her chair. Lexi was still in an induced coma and had developed pneumonia. Medics were putting her chances of survival at no more than thirty per cent. Why was life so damn fucking unfair?
Go home or spend the night with Mattie? Nell tried to make sense of her indecision as she sat in her car after work. If she went home, she wouldn’t have to summon up the energy to socialise and fake an “I’m fine” front. She could knock back a large calvados or two, have an early night, and not think about anything or anyone. Except that sounded...barren? Lonely? It didn’t hold its usual appeal.
She rubbed her temples in an attempt to ease the tension that had been there since mid-afternoon. The smell of fish filled her nostrils, and she realised she was still clutching the piece of cod she’d bought from the fishmongers for their dinner. It was enough for two decent-sized portions. She laughed thinly. Is this what she was reduced to, making important life decisions based on fish?I need to feel Mattie’s touch again, like an addict craving another hit. She could manage to leave her bad-day-at-work vibe in the car, couldn’t she?
Apparently not, if Mattie’s perturbed expression was anything to judge by. So much for Nell’s famed poker face.
Mattie kissed her cheek lightly. “I’m guessing it’s been a tough day.”
There was no point in lying. Besides, Nell’s hormones were zinging because Mattie cared. She nodded, and Mattie suggested a stroll on the beach to clear the cobwebs away.
Nell let her weary feet sink into the sand and be bathed by the warm shallows. It was soothing until a tenacious sliver of seaweed attached itself to her ankle. She shook her foot but it refused to let go. She growled.
“Lean on me,” said Mattie, crouching down.
Nell did so, and Mattie bent to untangle the seaweed. Just her gentle touch was enough to ground her.
Mattie tossed the seaweed back into the water. “Do you want to talk about what’s bugging you?”
“I can’t, it’s confidential.” There was that elephant in the room again. She was a cop, Mattie was a journalist, and there’d always be that gulf between them.
Mattie tilted her head. “I don’t need details of the case. I was asking about why it’s affecting you so much.”
Nell stayed silent, but her desire to confide in Mattie was fast becoming overwhelming. Why was her usual ability to contain her emotions at a knife-edge? It was as though the seal on a bottle stopper was drawing inexorably loose. That she wanted to lean on Mattie, a journalist of all people, was equally confusing. Common sense and past history reminded her about the danger of confiding in a journalist, but deep down, her instinct, something she usually relied upon, wanted to trust Mattie. Of course, it was possible that her instinct was being distorted by lust. She stared at the dusky horizon and the smudged line dividing the sea and the sky. “Do you ever feel jaded?”
“Sometimes, especially since Kenya,” Mattie said. “You?”
“More a feeling of numbness at yet more of the same.” Nell wished she could slough off the weight of it. “Talking helps.”
“I’m a good listener.”
“I meant professionally, to a therapist.”
Mattie shuddered. “My employers insisted I had therapy after Kenya, but I’m not a fan of wittering away to a therapist about stuff. The written word, planned and considered, is my forte.”
“There’s no harm in talking about trauma to someone who’s paid to listen.”
“You surprise me. I didn’t have you down as the therapy type.”
Nell kicked away another clump of seaweed. “Counselling was compulsory after I got caught up in a hostage situation.”
“You what?” Mattie inhaled sharply. “That’s–”
“Part of the job. I got in the way of a domestic abuser and his five-inch knife.” In the moment, she’d compartmentalized and got on with it. It was part of her job and what she trained for. “My colleague and I managed to persuade him to drop the weapon before he hurt anyone.”
Mattie’s eyes widened. “That’s frightening.”
