A Limited Justice (#1 - The Craig Modern Thriller Series) (34 page)

His voice softened and he could hear her breathing calm as he spoke.

“I’ll call you, I promise. It might not be today but I will call you.”

Then his alibi became slightly brisker. “But it’s 7am and I’ve got to get ready for work now, we’ve a big case on. Tell me how long you’re here and give me your number... please.” He could feel his control returning and with it his kindness, so he added. “It’s good to hear from you.”

Then he took her number and ended the call quickly with, “take care, bye,” before her softness could snake its way around his heart, as it had done for so many years.

He lay there for an hour, the huge weight of the love that had ruled him for years, pressing down on him, threatening to break through the wall that he’d built. He struggled as he felt it crumble.

Suddenly a dog barked outside and broke through his thoughts, saving him. And with one thrust, he propelled himself out of bed and into the shower, drowning his feelings. He stood there, letting the water run over his muscled back for minutes, until peace finally descended. Then he stood for a moment longer, testing its strength. When he was sure, he dressed himself in the facade of professionalism that would fool everyone, but him.

***

“Sorry I’m late, Nicky. You knew I had that planning meeting, didn’t you?”

Nicky nodded in reply, puzzled. She knew that he was lying but not about what. There were no routine meetings on a Saturday.

“OK, what’ve we got?”

“Nothing urgent, but Davy has some good news for you.”

Craig dropped his coat and briefcase beside her desk, something he never did, and she looked at him curiously. There was definitely something ‘off’. He strode towards Davy, his gestures too ostentatiously macho for something not to have rattled his cage. And it was really none of her business, except that she cared.

“You wanted to see me, Davy?”

“I think we have s...something. A party of two women and three children heading out of Paris, in a Blue Citroën... They lost them at the border, but the general direction of travel looked like S...Spain. I’ve asked the police to keep an eye out around Marbella, the place Fiona McNamee committed suicide.”

“Or didn’t.” They smiled together at the irony.

“If they head back to that area then it makes it more likely that Fina Morales is Fiona McNamee–heading back to a place they know?”

“Correct. Great work, Davy. Update the Spanish police and Interpol and keep an eye on it, but....”

Craig paused, and his next comment shocked Davy so much that “huh?” was all he could manage.

”Don’t spend all your time on it.”

Nicky and Annette heard Craig’s words as well, and the suddenness of him taking his foot off the case’s throttle surprised them all. This wasn’t like him; he was usually like a dog with a bone until he caught a killer.

He caught their looks and knew what they were thinking. That he was less than happy about pursuing a half-dead mother, and her three small children, plus an older woman who may or may not be innocent, half way across Europe. And they were right. But thankfully, the call he’d received thirty minutes ago gave him the perfect smokescreen for his reluctance.

“We’ve caught a home invasion out in Sydenham. They got away clean and left two dead, so we have our work cut out for us today, especially with one man down.”

Annette sat forward eagerly, with Liam away she’d get a chance to lead. Then the ghoulishness of her excitement suddenly hit her, and she sat back, feigning dignity, until the eagerness in her voice gave her away.

“What needs to be done first, sir?”

Craig smiled at her, instantly feeling on more solid ground than he had all week.

Chapter Twenty-Two

He’d offered to drive to the country but Julia had insisted on Belfast, saying that she was owed some retail therapy, and adding, “I’ve arranged to meet my friend Jenny for lunch and stay with her overnight,” immediately removing the pressure on them both. He admired her gift for organisation, if not her seemingly absolute need for control.

So now, here they were on a Saturday evening, facing each other across the starched white tablecloth and polished cutlery of Deane’s, one of Belfast’s premiere restaurants. With her facing out and him facing in, just as his mother had taught him.

They’d covered the initial awkward silence and the confused air-kissing, and they’d talked and laughed their way surprisingly well through three courses and two coffees. Until there was nothing left to say that wouldn’t hint at desperation, or the need to fill the silence, growing louder against the background of the waiters clearing.

So finally Craig paid the bill and asked for their coats, noticing again as she stood, how elegant she looked in her soft cream dress. Its fabric was draping and clinging to the curves beneath. Curves that her work outfit hadn’t even hinted at.

Her hair was loose and long, with soft, undulating waves of red-gold that she fingered as she talked. Pushing them back and running her fingers through them constantly, releasing a perfume that he recognised but couldn’t name. She was beautiful and sensuous and nothing like the professional he’d argued with, bristled at, and eventually talked to sensibly about their cases. She was a woman and he was reacting to her just like a man, which meant trouble.

Julia looked at him intensely, as if she could read his mind. And she could, just as he could read hers. And as they walked into the city street in the cool night air, he reached for her, pulling her to him firmly and kissing her parted lips eagerly, the urgency of his own response surprising him. His pleasure was echoed in her fevered eyes, saying that it was the same for her.

He stroked her soft, bare shoulders, running his hands down her arms until he reached her shawl. He held it gently, pulling her closer. She could feel him drawing her in and she leaned hard against him. Knowing that she could pull away, but powerless to move, and take the step that would break the moment, and the night.

Instead, she freed her hand and drew a finger softly down his face. Tenderly running it along his brow and down his lean cheek, until it finally rested on his mouth, full and wide, reaching forward to kiss it again with her own. The heat she felt had been forgotten for too long, and she was shocked by her own urges, urges that were returned by his body in quick response.

He drew her by the hand into a nearby doorway, like an adolescent yearning to keep the moment safe. After a long passionate moment the noise of a car revving pulled them out of their private world and back onto Howard Street, and he looked into her bright blue eyes, seeing a softness that he hadn’t noticed before. A frayed vulnerability that said. “You can hurt me”.

It was the reality check that Craig needed to stop him taking the next step, the one that would lead them straight back to his apartment. Lead them to undressing each other longingly, clasping each other’s bodies in a night of sensual, hot movement. The step that would start a relationship...or a professional nightmare.

He moved away from her slowly, putting air between them and then dropped her hand gently, answering her quick, questioning look with a soft smile. His deep voice framed his next words carefully.

“I’ve had a wonderful evening, Julia.”

“So have I, but ... Marc?”

“There’s no ‘but’. I want to see you again, but...”

“You said there was no ‘but’.”

The words showed her pain and her eyes glistened dangerously, before she looked away, to stop him seeing her sharp tears. But he’d already seen them. He immediately wanted to smooth them away and he realised that he was already too involved, so he stepped back even further, as if his physical distance would echo itself in his emotions.

“Julia...” Craig searched for the words to explain his confusion.

“I don’t ...We work in a small world...”

He looked at her hesitantly, asking for understanding. “I don’t want to do anything that will damage anyone, please try to understand that.”

Then pleadingly, “I need to take this slowly...there’s...”

She looked shocked, as if something had just occurred to her; another woman, of course, why hadn’t she guessed? He was handsome and talented; of course there was another woman. She could feel herself erecting the barriers that she used at work, and quickly lifted her coat from her feet, covering her bare femininity. Mentally wrapping Julia the woman, in the safe uniform of Julia the D.I.

He watched her, knowing exactly what she was doing, half-expecting her to tie her hair back as the final disguise. But it was too late; he’d already seen the woman and he knew that he wanted to see more of her.

“I see.” But her tense voice said that she didn’t see, not at all.

“No, you don’t, and if you close this door you’ll never see. All I’m asking for is time to sort my head out. I really want to see you again, but I’m trying to be fair.”

“Fair to whom, Marco?” Her next words were almost yelled at him, clear in the cold, night air. “You’re married aren’t you?”

Even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. But what then. A live-in girlfriend? Is that why he wanted to end the evening now? He had someone waiting for him at home.

He half-laughed at the ridiculousness of her question. “No, I’m not married,” he could see her next words forming. “And before you ask I’m not living with anyone either.”

What then? She looked confused and hurt and he knew that she deserved an explanation, but then that would mean understanding it himself and he wasn’t sure that he did. He struggled to form his next words.

“There was someone.” He could hear his voice starting to break, but her vulnerable face meant that he couldn’t stop now. “We were going to marry, but...”

But what? Her ambition was stronger than her love for me. She met someone she liked better. She met someone more useful to her career. Which was it? He didn’t know, and in that split second he realised that he needed to know. He needed to understand, he needed to find out what was left between him and Camille, and put it to rest one way or another, before it ruined what he could have with anyone else. And before he hurt the woman standing in front of him, looking so beautiful and vulnerable in the winter night.

So he reached out his hand tentatively, hoping hard that she’d take it, and she did. Then they drove the few miles to the ancient circle of the Giants Ring and sat in his warm car talking until the sun came up. He explained everything to her, and then asked if they could be friends, until he sorted out the mess in his head. Because if he didn’t, he’d make a mess of hers as well...

*** 

It was Sunday evening by the time Craig managed to call Liam, and after thirty seconds of small talk he got straight to the point, knowing that Liam hated phone conversations just as much as he did. .

“When are you thinking of coming back?”

“Tomorrow, and for God’s sake don’t say no, boss. Danni is doing my head in. She follows me around like a minder. You’ll be investigating her murder if I don’t get back.”

Craig laughed, imagining Danni fussing round him, with Liam swatting her away like a wasp. He’d intended to make him take another week, but he really needed him on the home invasion.

“OK, we’ve a case and I need you. But you’re only back on one condition.”

“Anything. I swear to God if you asked me to sleep with Mrs Butler I’d say yes. Anything to get out of here.”

“Funny you should say that...”

“Aye right. What is the price then?”

“You’re office bound for a week and Annette’s working the lead.”

Liam’s immediate protest was predictable and Craig let him rant for a minute, before interrupting.

“My terms or nothing, Liam. Think of it like this, you can have Danni fussing and Erin climbing all over you, or you can be desk bound, with Annette taking the lead. Entirely your choice. “

There was complete silence from the other end of the line.

“I thought so. See you tomorrow.”

***

By 10am, Liam was up to date on the home invasion, and they’d cracked every possible joke about his eating habits, chatting-up W.P.C.s and his superhuman powers of recovery. They would be rehashed for months to come whenever there was a slow day, or until something else appeared to give them better banter.

Craig had a week’s freedom from Nicky’s List, courtesy of her trip to Venice, and his temporary P.A. wasn’t due until eleven, so he had an hour to himself. He closed his office door, knowing exactly how he intended to use it.

He pulled a chair over to the window and looked out. The day was so clear that he could see past the H&W cranes, to catch a rare glimpse of Scrabo’s historic tower in the distance. It had overlooked Newtownards since 1857, memorialising the 3rd Marquis of Londonderry, Wellington's general in the Napoleonic Wars. Now it sat among the beautiful walks and parkland of Killynether Wood, with views extending across Strangford Lough, to the Mountains of Mourne and the Scottish coast.

Everything about the day seemed perfect, or as perfect as it could be when he knew that Jessica Adams and Fiona McNamee were still roaming around Europe, free from any comeback from their crimes.

He was ready to do what he’d been putting off for days, and propping his feet on the low window sill, he lifted his mobile and pressed dial, hoping that it would be answered quickly, before he had time to change his mind. He wasn’t disappointed. She answered in two rings, as if she’d been waiting for him.