of literal silence, their only communication irregular flurries of e-mail. But three short syllables were all it took to penetrate the shell that he’d grown round his emotions.
‘It’s Carol.’ Three more syllables, these ones entirely unnecessary. He’d know her voice through a sea of static. She must have heard the news about Vance.
‘I need to talk to you,’ she continued, sounding more confident. Professional, then, not personal after all. ‘I’ve got an assignment that I really need your help with.’ His stomach felt leaden. Why was she doing this to him? She knew the reasons he’d drawn a line under profiling. She of all people should grant him more grace than this.
‘It’s nothing to do with profiling,’ she added, the words falling over each other in her haste to correct the false assumption she’d feared, the one he’d so readily made.
‘It’s for me. It’s something I’ve got to do and I don’t know how to do it. And I thought you would be able to help me. I’d have e-mailed, but it just seemed easier to talk. Can you call me, please? Thanks.’
Tony stood motionless, staring out of the window at the blank faces of the houses that opened straight on to the pavement on the other side of the street. He’d never really believed Carol was consigned to his past.
‘Do you want a glass of wine?’ Frances’s voice from the kitchen cut across his reverie.
He walked back into the kitchen. ‘I’ll get them,’ he said, squeezing past her to get to the fridge.
‘Who was it?’ Frances asked casually, more polite than curious.
‘Someone I used to work with.’ Tony hid his face in the process of pulling the cork and pouring wine into a couple of glasses. He cleared his throat. ‘Carol Jordan. A cop.’
Frances frowned in concern. ‘Isn’t she the one … ?’
‘She’s the one I worked with on the two serial killer cases, yes.’ His tone told Frances it wasn’t a subject for discussion. She knew the bare bones of his history, had always sensed there was something unspoken between him and his former colleague. Now at last this might be the chance to turn over the stone and see what crept out.
‘You were really close, weren’t you?’ she probed.
‘Working on cases like that always brings colleagues close together for the duration. You’ve got a common purpose. Then afterwards you can’t bear their company because it reminds you of things you want to wipe off the face of your memory.’ It was an answer that gave nothing away.
‘Was she calling about that bastard Vance?’ Frances asked, conscious that she’d been headed off at the pass.
Tony placed her glass by the side of the chopping board. ‘You heard about that?’
‘It was on the news.’
‘You didn’t mention it.’
Frances took a sip of the cool, crisp wine. ‘It’s your business, Tony. I thought you’d get round to it in your own good time if you wanted to talk about it. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t.’
His smile was wry. ‘I think you’re the only woman I’ve ever known who didn’t have the nosy gene.’
‘Oh, I can be as nosy as the next person. But I’ve learned the hard way that poking my nose in where it’s not wanted is a great recipe for screwing up a relationship.’ The allusion to her failed marriage was as oblique as Tony’s occasional reference to his profiling experiences, but he picked it up loud and clear.
‘I’ll give her a quick ring back while you’re finishing off in here,’ he said.
Frances stopped what she was doing and watched him walk away. She had a feeling tonight would be one of those nights when she was wakened in the chill hours before dawn by Tony shouting in his sleep and thrashing around beneath the bedclothes. She’d never complained to him; she’d read enough about serial killers to have an idea what terrors were lodged in his consciousness. She enjoyed what they shared, but that didn’t mean she wanted to partake of his demons.
She couldn’t have known how very different that made her from Carol Jordan.
Carol leaned back on the sofa, one hand clutching the phone, the other kneading the fur of her black cat, Nelson. ‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’ she asked, knowing it was a formality. Tony never offered anything he didn’t mean.
‘If you want my help, I’ll need to see whatever brief they give you. It makes much more sense for you to bring it with you so we can go through it together,’ Tony said, sounding matter of fact.
‘I really appreciate this.’
‘It’s not a problem. Compared to what we’ve worked through in the past, it’ll be a pleasure.’
Carol shuddered. Someone walking across her grave. ‘You heard about Vance’s appeal?’
‘It was on the radio news,’ he said.
‘He’s not going to succeed, you know,’ she said, more confidently than she felt. ‘He’s just another guest of Her Majesty, thanks to us. He tried every trick in the book and a few others besides at the trial, and we still managed to convince a jury that was predisposed to love him. He’s not going to get past three law lords.’ Nelson protested as her fingers dug too deeply into his flesh.
‘I’d like to think so. But I’ve always had a bad feeling about Vance.’
‘Enough of that. I’ll head straight out to the airport tomorrow as soon as the brief arrives and get a flight to Edinburgh. I can pick up a hire car there. I’ll call you when I have a better idea of my ETA.’
‘OK. You’re … you’re welcome to stay at my place,’ he said. Over the phone, it was hard to sift diffidence from reluctance.
Much as she wanted to see where two years apart would have brought them, Carol knew it made sense to leave herself a back door. ‘Thanks, but I’m putting you to enough trouble. Book me in at a local hotel, or a bed and breakfast place. Whatever’s most convenient.’
There was a short pause. Then he said, ‘I’ve heard good reports of a couple of places. I’ll sort it out in the morning. But if you change your mind …’
‘I’ll let you know.’ It was an empty promise; the impetus would have to come from him.
‘I’m really looking forward to seeing you, Carol.’
‘Me too. It’s been too long.’
She heard a soft chuckle. ‘Probably not. It’s probably been just about right. Till tomorrow, then.’
‘Good night, Tony. And thanks.’
‘Least I can do. Bye, Carol.’
She heard the click of the line going dead and cut off her own handset, letting it fall to the rug.
