He was older than she’d assumed from the Instagram pictures: a mature intelligence in his grey eyes that seemed to contend with the youthful image created by a toned body and rock-star attire.
Drawing close, he said, “You certain you’re alright? I don’t mean to intrude, but you seem a little…lost.”
Her instinct was to reassert her professionalism, affirm her fitness for duty, but there was a razor truth in his words. She hesitated, feeling the cold of that church, and the roar of her motorcycle as she raced to Benevento, and the icy terror and despair that met her in a cave while the thunder crashed outside.
“My uncle,” she told him. “He’s in hospital. They weren’t sure he was going to pull through. It’s been a difficult couple of days.”
Teddy gave a sad smile. “I’m a bit rudderless, too. This was a memorial for my kid sister. All her friends were here and I kept thinking she’d show up. Idiotic, isn’t it? I still can’t believe she’s not coming back.”
“I’m sorry,” Nikki said. “Were you close?”
He shook his head. “She was actually my half sister. I was ten when she was born. You know how kids are…. I resented her for a long time. But she turned out to be really sweet. Introverted. Incredibly naive. Wanted to save everybody. She was a carer for children. That’s why she…”
His voice shook and the words trailed off.
His face softened when he talked about Claire. After his trendysocial media accounts, Nikki had been prepared to dismiss Teddy Sexton as entirely superficial, but his grief was clearly real and raw.
“It sounds like you loved her,” she said. “What happened?”
“She was killed!” A sudden flash of viciousness lit up his expression. He shook his head. “Silly kid. Didn’t understand anything. Didn’t understand how the world works.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged with an agitated, disconsolate air. Nikki felt an impulse to reach out. She stopped herself.
“It feels terrible to lose someone like that,” she said. “Sometimes I think that death should make sense…but I’ve never found it.”
She considered saying more—telling him about her work, and describing the investigation into Claire’s murder. But the words stuck in her mouth. She’d already misled him by omission.
He searched her face. “Can I buy you a drink?”
She glanced back into the empty room with its depressing decorations and empty bottles.
“I want to get out of here,” she told him.
“Fair enough,” he said. “It’s Sunday night. Most places are dead…but I know a cracking spot in the city.”
—
While they waited for Teddy’s cab outside the Three Horseshoes, he smoked.
“I grew up around here,” he said. “Hated it. Couldn’t wait to get the fuck out.”
“What did you hate?”
“Too cramped. Not only the place—the minds.”
“How did you leave?”
“As rapidly as possible. If you want to succeed, you can’t wait for opportunity. You create it.”
He had a public-school accent, but Nikki had spent enough time in London to recognize the false notes. He’d clearly spent considerable effort purging Gidea Park from his life, but it clung to the edges of his words.
Almost as an afterthought, he said, “I’m Teddy.”
“Nikki,” said Nikki. The night chill seeped into her coat, and she pulled up the hood to block the unpleasant drizzle. “What opportunity did you create?”
“CEO of my own company.”
“Impressive.”
