“You really never find yourself disliking their weakness, their self-pity, their ‘woe is me’ act?”
“Never.”
She parried well—like a professional—and shortly afterward her lawyer called time on the interview. They had to let her go. Had nothing to charge her with. But Helen didn’t mind. During the time she’d been interviewing Hannah, Mark had applied for and got a search warrant for her house and office. There was more than one way to skin a cat.
One female suspect. With links to three very different victims. Someone who knew them—and their vulnerabilities—intimately. Now all they needed was proof. For the first time since the investigation started, Helen sensed that they were finally getting somewhere.
46
It was a strange sort of celebration. She clutching a Coke and he nursing a slowly warming tonic. Not very rock ’n’ roll. But it felt good nevertheless. Neither had ever confronted a case like this before. Multiple murders were rare and when they happened tended to be spree killings. An explosion of anger that destroyed all but died out quickly. The level of care and planning that had gone into these murders was something else. Although no copper would ever admit it, these sorts of crimes were deeply unnerving. They made you feel that your experience counted for nothing, that your instincts were wrong, your training pitifully inadequate. These sorts of crimes broke the system that kept your faith intact.
But now they had a lead. Nothing cut-and-dried yet, but coppers are always happy when they have a strong scent. Something—or someone—to prosecute. Mark watched his superior as she chatted animatedly about the case. She’d always been attractive, but now there was something more. A warmth, a sense of optimism and hope, which was usually hidden from view. It was her smile that was the revelation. Seldom seen, but not easily forgotten.
He could sense his growing attraction to her and was determined to resist it. He would never again let any woman have that kind of hold over him. And yet he wanted to penetrate her armor and find out more about her. What did she dream of when she was little? Was she popular? Was she rich? Did the boys like her?
“Did you grow up round here?”
A poor opener, but Mark had never been good at chat. She shook her head.
“Sarf London. Can’t you tell?”
Was she flirting with him?
“You haven’t got an accent.”
“I ironed it out. Good friend of mine in the force told me early on that the posher you sound, the quicker you rise. Just prejudice, really, but everyone thinks you’re more intelligent.”
“That must be where I went wrong.”
“You’re not so bad.”
Shewasflirting with him.
“I had no idea you were so devious.”
“Well, you don’t know me very well yet, do you?”
Was that a come-on or a put-down?I really am out of practice,thought Mark. Helen headed off to the bar and came back with a pint of lager. Mark watched her, excited, aroused, torn—his desire for her jostling with his desire for the alcohol. She offered him the glass.
“We’ve had a good day today. So have some. You know the rules—as long as I’m here, it’s okay.”
He took the glass from her. And drank. But just a sip—wanted to show her that he was in control, that he wasn’t weak. He’d hated himself and his life for so long. Now that he was climbing out of the abyss, he was going to show strength. He handed her back the glass. She smiled at him—warm and encouraging.
“Why did you join the force, Mark?”
Now it was her turn to ask the questions.
“Because no one else would have me.”
She laughed at that one.
“Seriously. I completely messed up school. It was a good one—grammar school and that—but I just couldn’t get into it. Couldn’t pay attention. Just wanted to get out of the classroom.”
“To chase the girls?”
“And the rest. After two years of sniffing glue and setting light to phone boxes, my old man kicked me out. I spent three nights on my sister’s floor, then thought, ‘Fuck this.’ So I joined up.”
“My hero.”
