Aftermath (47 page)

Annie was fifteen minutes late, which was unlike her, and she lacked the usual spring in her step. When she got herself a drink and joined Banks at the table he could tell she was upset.

‘Rough day?’ he asked.

‘You can say that again.’

Banks felt that he could have had a better one, too. Sandra’s letter he could have done without, for a start. And while Candy’s information was interesting, it was maddeningly lacking in the hard evidence he needed if he were to track down Lucy Payne and arrest her for anything other than kerb-crawling. That was the trouble; the odd things that trickled in – Lucy’s childhood, the Satanic stuff in Alderthorpe, Kathleen Murray’s murder, and now Candy’s statement – were all disturbing and suggestive of more serious problems, but ultimately, as AC Hartnell had already pointed out, they added up to nothing.

‘Anything in particular?’ he asked.

‘I just arrested Janet Taylor.’

‘Let me guess: the Hadleigh verdict?’

‘Yes. It seems everyone knew about it except me. The CPS wants justice to be seen to be done. It’s just bloody politics, that’s all.’

‘Often is.’

Annie gave him a sour look. ‘I know that, but it doesn’t help.’

‘They’ll make a deal with her.’

Annie told him what Janet had just said.

‘Should be an interesting trial, then. What did Chambers have to say?’

‘He doesn’t give a damn. He’s just marking time till he gets his pension. I’m through with Complaints and Discipline. Soon as there’s an opening in CID, I’m back.’

‘And we’d be happy to have you, as soon as there is,’ said Banks, smiling.

‘Look, Alan,’ Annie said, looking at the view through the window, ‘there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.’

Just as he’d thought. He lit a cigarette. ‘Okay. What is it?’

‘It’s just that . . . I don’t know . . . this isn’t working out. You and me. I think we should ease off. Cool it. That’s all.’

‘You want to end our relationship?’

‘Not end it. Just change its focus, that’s all. We can still be friends.’

‘I don’t know what to say, Annie. What’s brought this on?’

‘Nothing in particular.’

‘Oh, come on. You can’t just expect me to believe you suddenly decided for no apparent reason to chuck me.’

‘I’m not chucking you. I told you. Things are just changing.’

‘Okay. Are we going to continue going out for romantic dinners, to galleries and concerts together?’

‘No.’

‘Are we going to continue sleeping together?’

‘No.’

‘Then what, precisely, are we going to do together?’

‘Be friends. You know, at work. Be supportive and stuff.’

‘I’m already supportive and stuff. Why can’t I be supportive and stuff and still sleep with you?’

‘It’s not that I don’t like it, Alan. Sleeping with you. The sex. You know that.’

‘I thought I did. Maybe you’re just a damn good actress.’

Annie winced and swigged some beer. ‘That’s not fair. I don’t deserve that. This isn’t easy for me, you know.’

‘Then why are you doing it? You know it’s more than sex with us, anyway.’

‘I
have
to.’

‘No, you don’t. Is it because of that conversation we had the other night? I wasn’t trying to suggest that we should have children. That’s the last thing I’d want right now.’

‘I know. It wasn’t that.’

‘Was it to do with the miscarriage, what I told you I felt?’

‘Christ, no. Maybe. Look, okay, I’ll admit it threw me, but not in the way you think.’

‘In what way, then?’

Annie paused, clearly uncomfortable, shifted in her chair and faced away from him, her voice low. ‘It just made me think about things I’d rather not think about. That’s all.’

‘What things?’

‘Do you have to know everything?’

‘Annie, I care about you. That’s why I’m asking.’

She ran her fingers through her hair, turned her eyes on him and shook her head. ‘After the rape,’ she said, ‘over two years ago, well . . . he hadn’t . . . the one who did it hadn’t . . . Shit, this is more difficult than I thought.’

Banks felt understanding dawn on him. ‘You got pregnant. That’s what you’re telling me, right? That’s why this whole business with Sandra is bothering you so much.’

Annie smiled thinly. ‘Perceptive of you.’ She touched his hand and whispered, ‘Yes. I got pregnant.’

‘And?’

Annie shrugged. ‘And I had an abortion. It wasn’t my best moment, but it wasn’t my worst. I didn’t feel guilty afterwards. I didn’t feel much of anything, in fact. But all this . . . I don’t know . . . I just want to put it behind me, and being with you always seems to bring it all back, shove it right in my face.’

‘Annie—’

‘No. Let me finish. You’ve got too much baggage, Alan. Too much for me to handle. I thought it would get easier, go away maybe, but it hasn’t. You can’t let it go. You’ll never let it go. Your marriage was such a big part of your life for so long that you can’t. You’re hurt and I can’t console you. I don’t do consoling well. Sometimes I just feel too overwhelmed by your life, your past, your problems, and all I want to do is crawl away and be on my own. I can’t get any breathing space.’

Banks stubbed out his cigarette and noticed his hand was shaking a little. ‘I didn’t know you felt like that.’

‘Well, that’s why I’m telling you. I’m not good at commitment, at emotional closeness. Not yet, anyway. Maybe never. I don’t know, but it’s stifling me and scaring me.’

‘Can’t we work it out?’

‘I don’t want to work it out. I don’t have the energy. This is not what I need in my life right now. That’s the other reason.’

‘What?’

‘My career. This Janet Taylor fiasco aside, believe it or not, I do love police work and I do have an aptitude for it.’

‘I know—’

‘No, wait. Let me finish. What we’ve been doing is unprofessional. It’s hard for me to believe that half the station doesn’t already know what we’re up to in private. I’ve heard the sniggers behind my back. Certainly all my colleagues in CID and Complaints and Discipline know. I think Chambers was also dropping a hint when he warned me you were a ladies’ man. I wouldn’t be surprised if ACC McLaughlin knows, too.’

‘Relationships on the job aren’t unusual and they certainly aren’t illegal.’

‘No, but they
are
seriously discouraged and frowned upon. I want to make chief inspector, Alan. Hell, I want to make superintendent, chief constable. Who knows? I’ve rediscovered my ambition.’

It was ironic, Banks thought, that Annie should rediscover her ambition just when he thought he had come to the limits of his. ‘And I’m standing in your way?’

‘Not standing in my way. Distracting me. I don’t need any distractions.’

‘All work and no play . . .’

‘So I’ll be dull for a while. It’ll be a nice change.’

‘So that’s it, then? Just like that? Over. The end. Because I’m human and I’ve got a past that sometimes rears its ugly head, and because you’ve decided you want to put more effort into your career, we stop seeing each other?’

‘If you want to put it like that, yes.’

‘What other way is there to put it?’

Annie hurried her pint. Banks could tell she wanted to leave. Damn it, though, he was hurt and angry and he wasn’t going to let her get off that easily.

‘Are you sure there’s nothing else?’ he asked.

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. You’re not jealous of anyone, are you?’

‘Jealous? Of whom? Why should I be?’

‘Jenny, perhaps?’

‘Oh, for crying out loud, Alan. No, I’m not jealous of Jenny. If I’m jealous of anyone, it’s Sandra. Can’t you see that? She’s got more of a hold on you than anyone.’

‘That’s not true. Not any more.’ But Banks remembered the letter, his feelings when he read the cold, business-like words. ‘Is there someone else? Is that it?’ he went on quickly.

‘Alan, there’s nobody else. Believe me. I’ve told you. I don’t have room for anyone in my life right now. I can’t cope with anyone else’s emotional demands.’

‘What about sexual demands?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It doesn’t have to be emotional, sex, does it? I mean, if it’s too much trouble to sleep with someone who actually cares a bit about you, maybe it’d be easier to pick up some stud in a bar for a quick anonymous fuck. No demands. You don’t even have to tell one another your names. Is that what you want?’

‘Alan, I don’t know where you’re going with this, but I’d like you to stop right there.’

Banks rubbed his temples. ‘I’m just upset, Annie, that’s all. I’m sorry. I’ve had a bad day, too.’

‘I’m sorry about that. I really don’t want to hurt you.’

He looked her in the eye. ‘Then don’t. No matter who you get involved with, you’ll have to face things you want to avoid.’

He noticed the tears in her eyes. The only time he’d seen her cry before was when she told him about her rape. He reached out to touch her hand on the table, but she jerked it away. ‘No. Don’t.’

‘Annie—’

‘No.’

She stood up so abruptly that she banged the table hard and her drink spilled right onto Banks’s lap, then she ran out of the pub before he could say another word. All he could do was sit there feeling the cold liquid seep through his trousers, aware of everyone’s eyes on him, thankful only that they hadn’t been in the Queen’s Arms, where everyone knew him. And he’d thought the day couldn’t get any worse.

After taking her
last tutorial group and clearing up some paperwork, Jenny left her office at York early on Tuesday afternoon and headed for the A1 to Durham. The
traffic was heavy, especially lorries and delivery vans, but at least it was a pleasant, sunny day, not pouring down with rain.

After talking to Keith Murray – if he agreed to talk to her – Jenny thought she would still have time to continue on to Edinburgh later in the afternoon and look up Laura Godwin. It
would mean an overnight stay – either that or a long drive home in the dark – but she could worry about that later. She had an old student friend in the psychology department at the
University of Edinburgh, and it might be fun to get together and catch up with one another’s history. Not that Jenny’s recent history was anything to write home about, she thought
glumly, and now that she had met Banks’s girlfriend, she decided there probably wasn’t much hope for her there, either. Still, she was used to that by now; after all, they had known
each other for seven years or more, and they hadn’t once strayed beyond the bounds of propriety, more was the pity.

She still wasn’t certain whether the Girlfriend had been jealous when she came over to them in the Queen’s Arms. She must certainly have seen Banks touch Jenny’s arm, and
though it was merely a friendly, concerned gesture, it was open to misinterpretation, like so much body language. Was the Girlfriend the jealous kind? Jenny didn’t know. Annie had seemed
self-assured and poised, yet Jenny had sensed something in her attitude that made her feel strangely concerned for Banks, who was probably the only man she had ever met whom she worried about,
wanted to protect. She didn’t know why. He was independent, strong, private; perhaps he was more vulnerable than he let on, but he certainly wasn’t the sort of person you went around
feeling you needed to protect or mother.

A white van sped by on her outside lane just as she was turning off, and still lost in thought, she almost hit it. Luckily, instinct kicked in and she had time to swing back abruptly into her
own lane without causing anyone else great distress, but she missed the turn-off she wanted. She honked her horn and cursed him out loud – impotent gestures, but all she could come up with
– and drove on to the next junction.

When she had got off the A1, she switched the radio channel from a dreary Brahms symphony to some cheerful pop music, tunes she could hum along with and tap out the rhythm on the steering
wheel.

Durham was an odd sort of place, Jenny had always thought. Though she had been born there, her parents had moved away when she was only three and she didn’t remember it at all. Very early
in her academic career she had applied for a job at the university, but she got pipped at the post by a man with more publications to his name. She would have liked living here, she thought, as she
looked at the distant castle high on the hill and all the greenery surrounding it, but York suited her well enough and she had no desire to start applying for new jobs at this stage in her
career.

She had found from her map that Keith Murray lived out by the university sports grounds, so she was able to bypass the central maze around the cathedral and colleges, the city’s main
tourist area. Even so, she still managed to get lost on a couple of occasions. There was a chance that Keith might be out at lectures, Jenny realized, though she remembered how few lectures she had
attended when she was an undergraduate. If he was, she could wait until later if she had to, explore the city, have a pub lunch, and still be in plenty of time to get to Edinburgh to talk to
Laura.

She pulled over into a small car park in front of some shops and consulted the map again. Not far away now. She just had to watch out for the one-way streets or she would end up back where she
started.

On the second try, she got it right and pulled off the arterial road into an area of narrow streets. She was concentrating so much on finding the right street and the right house number, that
she almost didn’t see the car she parked behind until the last moment. When she did, her heart jumped into her throat. It was a blue Citroen.

Jenny told herself to be calm, that she couldn’t be certain it was the
same
blue Citroen that had followed her around Holderness because she hadn’t seen the number-plate. But
it was the exact same model and she didn’t believe in coincidences.

What should she do? Go ahead anyway? If the Citroen belonged to Keith Murray, what had he been doing at Alderthorpe and Spurn Head, and why had he followed her? Was he dangerous?

As Jenny was trying to make up her mind what to do, the front door of the house opened and two people walked over to the car: a young man with keys in his hand and a woman who looked remarkably
like Lucy Payne. Just as Jenny decided to pull away, the young man saw her, said something to Lucy, then walked over and jerked open the driver’s door of Jenny’s car before she had time
to lock it.