The Dead Tracks (64 page)

    'I
don't regret what we did,' I said.

    'Are
you sure?'

    More
water ran down her face. She placed a hand on my leg, studying me, looking for
signs of uncertainty.

    'Derryn
was a part of my life for fifteen years,' I said, placing my hand on hers. 'She
was the first woman I loved, the only thing that ever really mattered to me
during the time we were together. If you're asking me if there'll be moments to
begin with when I'm a little unsure of myself, or feel like things are maybe
moving too fast, then yes, there
will
be moments like that. But if
you're asking me if I regret what we did, if I regret spending the night with
you, then no. I don't. You've waited for me, and supported me, and comforted
me. You've been there for me. I don't regret what I've done.'

    Her
eyes shimmered a little.

    I
touched a hand to her face, where a trail of water had worked its way down past
her ear, to her neck. 'Like I told you yesterday, you don't have to compete
with her.'

    'Okay,'
she said softly.

    'I
will always love Derryn,' I said. 'A part of me will always love her, whatever
happens.'

    She
nodded.

    'But…'I
paused and looked into her eyes. 'I'm tired of feeling lonely. I'm tired of
being scared of letting go. I'm tired of looking at her in pictures and feeling
guilt choking me up when I think about moving on. I feel
guilt,
and yet
Derryn never laid any guilt at my door. She would never have expected me to
spend my life trying to cling on to every memory I have of her. That wasn't who
she was. If she could see the way I'd been for almost two years, sitting alone
in this house, feeling terrified about moving on… she would never have forgiven
me. She would have wanted me to take the next step.'

    I ran
a hand through Liz's hair and then leaned in and kissed her.

    'So,
that's exactly what I'm going to do…'

    Later,
as I watched Liz's car disappear into the rain, I thought about what she'd said
to me
.
You're trying to plug holes in the world because you know what
it's like to lose someone, andyou think it's your job to stop anyone else
suffering the same way
.

    She'd
been right.

    She
saw it in me, even before I saw it in myself. She understood that the reason I
let Derryn talk me into taking on that first case was because I could see what
was happening to her, could see the end coming, and I didn't want anyone else
to suffer like I had. The loss. The helplessness. The inevitability. I wanted
to help families turn their lives around, to punch through the darkness to the
light on the other side.

    And
then, finally, bring the people that mattered to them back from the dead.

    Anyone
even remotely familiar with London geography will know that I've taken some
liberties in
The Dead Tracks.
I hope the residents of east London will
forgive me for making their home the hunting ground for a notorious Victorian
serial killer and a crazed plastic surgeon. Plainly, the woods, and the
factories that surround it, don't actually exist.

    Sometimes
you have to admit when you've lucked out, and I feel very blessed to have
landed Stefanie Bierwerth as my editor; her kindness, support, guidance and razor-
sharp editorial powers have consistently refocused the book as it journeyed
between drafts. My agent Camilla Wray also has an incredible eye for a story
and was instrumental in shaping the book from the first moment it landed on her
desk. Handily, she's become a black belt in settling my nerves too — important
for the (many) times when doubts start creeping in. Without these two wonderful
women there wouldn't be a book.

    A
special thank you to the brilliant team at Penguin (including, but not limited
to, Tom, Jessica, Jennifer, Andrew, Shona and Caroline) who do an incredible
job of getting Raker out there into people's hands, and who work so tirelessly
on my behalf. Also, to the ladies of Darley Anderson, who have supported and
promoted my writing right from day one.

    Mike
Hedges was enthusiastic and gracious, filling me in on his years as one of the
country's top policemen, and offered ideas and details which I've since twisted
and adapted for the purposes of the book. Any errors are entirely of my own
making. Bruce Bennett also provided some intriguing insights in the early
stages of the novel, while plastic surgeon Rob Warr will probably be horrified
with how I've portrayed his profession — although I did warn him that things
might go a bit rogue. I hope he forgives me.

    My
family in the UK and South Africa have been amazing, going above and beyond the
call of duty in their support of the books. Thank you to everyone. I must give
a special mention to my mum and dad, though. This book is dedicated to you both
for a reason.

    Finally,
the two Weaver ladies: Erin, who wakes me up at six in the morning after I've
been writing until one; and Sharl
é
, who lets me lie in, and never complains when Raker
and I disappear for months on end. Without you both, I'd be lost.