Scare Me To Death, CJ Carver [nice books to read .txt] 📗

told herself. I don’t want to spoil the day.

She ducked inside to use the loo and as she returned, she saw Mac waving her phone at her. ‘It’s Dan Forrester.’

She took the phone, wondering if she’d conjured Dan up by thinking of him. ‘Hello?’

‘I knew the victim,’ Dan told her. ‘Kaitlyn Rogers.’

‘What?’

‘I saved her life.’

He went on to tell her an extraordinary story of an air crash in Morocco, and his bravery in saving two children’s lives. He finished by saying, ‘I’m going to ring Sergeant Milton now.’

Lucy put down the phone. Stared at the throngs of people shopping, eating, chatting, laughing.

‘What is it?’

She took a deep breath. ‘He knows the vic. Kaitlyn Rogers.’

Mac opened and closed his mouth. ‘You’re joking.’

‘He saved her life.’ She told him the story. How he’d played racing cars with Josh and talked to Kaitlyn about women racing-car drivers. The crash.

‘Christ almighty.’

Mac looked as though he didn’t know whether to tear his hair or punch someone. Lucy decided not to go into the six degrees of separation malarkey and kept quiet. He wouldn’t backtrack on getting her seconded to the case, would he?

‘Does he know Ricky Shaw?’

‘No.’

Mac’s eyes narrowed as he thought further. ‘When did he last see Kaitlyn Rogers?’

‘He doesn’t know for sure, but it’ll have to have been over seven years ago because that’s when his son died.’ As Mac knew only too well, Dan’s life was defined by Before Luke’s Death and After. Before, his memories were unreliable. After, his memories were intact.

‘And you say that Dan’s father knew Kaitlyn too.’

Lucy nodded.

‘His wife?’

‘No. Jenny hadn’t yet met Dan when the crash happened.’

Mac took a long pull of beer and set the glass down with more force than necessary. ‘You know what I’m going to say…’

‘Yes.’

He squeezed his eyes shut. His jaw was clenched.

Lucy held her breath.

When Mac spoke, his voice was strangled. ‘The SIO’s name is Jon Banks. Please, Lucy. Stay out of trouble?’

She exhaled. She could understand the effort it took for him to give her the go-ahead. Dan Forrester attracted danger like blood attracted sharks. Which was probably why she was attracted too. Life was never dull when Dan was around.

‘Thanks.’ She touched his face with her fingers and he caught her hand, turning it over to kiss her palm.

‘You’d never forgive me if I tried to stop you.’

Which was true, but she wasn’t going to say it. No point in rubbing it in.

He looked at her, expression intense. ‘Ring in twice a day, no matter where you are.’

‘Yes.’

‘And if you’re going off-grid, ring every hour.’

‘Yes.’

They stayed in a hotel that night. They could have stayed with Lucy’s mother, but since there was only a single bed in her old childhood bedroom, Lucy didn’t hesitate to take the luxury option. Dinner was at a bustling tapas bar around the corner. Breakfast, a full English near Paddington Station, where she kissed Mac goodbye.

‘Remember,’ he said gravely, ‘try and stay safe.’

Lucy nodded but the second he’d vanished from sight, she practically sprinted to the Tube and Kensington Police Station, her mind firing a multitude of colours and fizzing with excitement at being on a big case again.

The SIO, Jon Banks, was a burly man with buzz-cut grey hair and a bulldog jaw. His handshake was strong, his gaze clear. ‘Mac tells me you’re talented, dogged, and like to work unusual angles on your own.’

Lucy began to preen at the word talented.

‘Other reports say you’re excitable, impulsive, unpredictable, and generally a pain in the arse.’

It was an effort not to say I take it you’ve been talking to turd-face Magellan and hold his eyes with as much aplomb as she could muster.

‘However, your track record can’t be ignored. The media, in particular, will be delighted to hear you’re on the case. I’m holding a press conference in half an hour and I want you there.’

Lucy felt a surge of dismay. She hated being in the spotlight and something must have shown on her face because he added, ‘It’s the price you’re going to have to pay for joining my team.’

She lifted her chin. ‘I will not talk about my last case.’

‘Understood.’ He picked up a stack of papers and aligned the edges. When he looked up, he seemed surprised to see her still there. Lucy scarpered.

11

The press conference went better than Lucy expected. Jon Banks kept a tight rein on proceedings and whenever a journalist tried to ask her about her last case, he slapped them down. She’d even managed to ignore the TV cameras which was a bit of a miracle. Usually she became horribly self-conscious, stumbling over every other word, but with Banks’s support, she’d been surprisingly confident.

She met the murder squad in the MIR – Major Incident Room. No matter that it was the weekend, the whole team was there. Murder played hell with overtime budgets, but the dead couldn’t wait until Monday. Grabbing a desk, she did her best to ignore the curious stares that reached past her jacket, trying to see the scars she’d collected when she’d faced her kidnapper. She was notorious now, and not just for being hot-headed. Picking up the phone, she rang Ricky’s solicitor. When it went to Ajay Pozo’s messaging service she left her mobile number and asked him to call her back.

Next, she rang her mum, who was over the moon that she was on the case. ‘Jaya told me! Oh, Lucy. I can’t tell you how grateful I am. If there’s anything I can do…’

‘Can I stay with you for a bit?’

‘Of course! I’ll make your bed up. You’ve got keys. Come and go as you like.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’

‘Love you, my darling girl.’

‘Love you too.’ Before her near-death experience she would never have said something so personal in the office but she didn’t care who overheard. Life was too short for pissing about.

She rose and went to study the wall, a seeming mess of maps, photographs and multi-coloured Post-it notes that were the result of the investigation so far. Someone had