Dark Waters Page 10

  Heath leaned back in his chair.

  Alex clicked her fingers. ‘You’re hoping this could make your career, maybe get you an award or two? Or, at the very least, make Bud sit up and realize how good you are.’

  ‘Er … well … yes.’

  ‘Yes. And you don’t want me interfering and taking all the glory. Or any glory.’

  ‘Something like that,’ he mumbled, not looking at her.

  ‘In fact, you know there’s more to this than meets the eye. There’s a reason why Bud was interested in this in the first place, isn’t there? Not just because Daley was a big rival or that Bud never liked him as a person – if that was the case.’

  Heath nodded. ‘It was.’

  ‘I think you have an idea what it’s about.’ She put down her knife and fork. ‘You do, don’t you? Did Daley have another life or something?’ She saw a look in his eyes and leaned forward. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

  Heath shook his head. ‘Come on, Alex, you know I can’t tell you.’

  ‘Can’t or won’t?’

  He smiled. ‘Actually, I don’t know anything. But I do know Bud’s not sure the story will fly. Which is why—’

  ‘He wants you to do it and not me. More experience.’ Alex felt herself grow hot. Calm down, she told herself. She knew losing her temper wouldn’t help. She took a few deep breaths.

  Heath didn’t reply.

  Alex picked up her knife and fork again and chewed on some steak. Drank some more wine. Steadied herself.

  ‘Alex. You look as though you’re thinking. I can hear the cogs turning.’

  ‘I could help you,’ she said at last.

  ‘But I’ve said—’

  ‘I know what you’ve said. But I know the area. I’m in with Harper’s Holidays, and as you’ve just said, I did a lot of driving today. And two heads are better than one.’

  ‘Why should you want to help me?’ His voice was full of suspicion.

  ‘Because for the first time in a long time I feel alive, Heath. I feel I could be part of something good. Do something good. Something worthwhile. I mean, how many of these suicide forums are there? One’s too many. Let me help you. I haven’t got a lot on over the next few days.’ She leaned forward and pointed her knife at him. ‘I want to make a difference.’

  ‘Tell me what you’ve got.’

  She shook her head. ‘Don’t think I’m telling you anything until I have your agreement that we’ll work on this together. You carry on writing the everyday news copy, when there’s something to write about, while I do some real digging. What do you say?’

  He leaned back in his chair. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’

  There was something else. A thought that had been growing, taking hold, over the day.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Do you remember you asked me about Malone? The other day?’

  ‘The undercover police officer you’ve been seeing, right?’

  She nodded, then stopped. ‘How did you know he was undercover?’

  ‘I read the article you wrote about some undercover policeman’s shadowy exploits some time ago – that was him, I guess?’

  ‘Yes, it was, but—’

  ‘Good old office gossip.’

  ‘Really?’ Alex was surprised.

  ‘Come on, you haven’t been away that long. Nothing stays private in the offices of The Post.’

  ‘What else do you know about me and Malone?’ Alex was curious. ‘I mean, no one is supposed to know who he is. That’s the whole point of being undercover.’

  Heath smiled. ‘I usually make it my job to know about the other halves of beautiful women.’

  Much to her annoyance, Alex again felt a blush beginning across her collarbone. ‘Shut up you arse.’

  Heath smiled again. ‘I don’t know that much,’ he admitted. ‘And I won’t put him at risk, don’t worry. I know he helped you out up in north Norfolk.’

  ‘Saved my life,’ said Alex.

  ‘But you’re definitely not together any more?’

  Alex shook her head. ‘No. He did his usual disappearing act. Went outside to take a phone call and never came back.’

  ‘And that was it? No text? Nothing?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She surprised herself with the nonchalance in her voice when her gut was all twisted.

  ‘Wanker. You’re well rid of him.’

  That was the trouble, though. Alex wasn’t rid of him. He was constantly in her thoughts. They had been through a lot together, and she felt he was part of her. And she couldn’t understand why he had gone without a word, without looking back. Even here, in this lovely restaurant, with the chatter of happy diners as background she felt a longing for him. They had come here more than once. And it was here he had told her he loved her. Her heart twisted at the memory. ‘I want to find him.’ She wanted to find him so she could be the one to tell him to fuck off. To be in control.

  ‘These undercover officers, many of them had wives, you know, that they married to get information. They aren’t the most scrupulous of people to know.’ Heath looked worried.

  Alex almost smiled. Scrupulous. No, you couldn’t accuse Malone of that. He certainly did have a wife, Gillian, who he sent to prison, and a daughter, who would be what, about eight now? But, despite all that, she’d trusted him. Perhaps it was because her life hadn’t exactly been straightforward that she felt he understood her. He’d been on her side, done things for her without question. Nothing was black and white in life, nothing was certain. They both knew that and that’s what had bonded them. Or so she had thought.

  ‘I know. I want to know why …’ She bit down on her lip. Damn these sudden tides of emotion.

  ‘Why what?’

  ‘Why he left when I thought he’d stay.’ Then she’d tell him to fuck off.

  ‘Isn’t that the refrain of all jilted lovers?’ Heath smiled to take the sting out of his words.

  ‘Maybe. But humour me. Use some of those investigative skills and the resources I don’t have any more since I left the paper in London to see if you can get any idea of where he is. You know I can’t log into those websites that find addresses or other information on my computer at home. There are people in the office that’ll help you, not me. Contacts I know you’ve got. Helpful contacts. Please. And I can use my local knowledge and my contacts to help you. Quid pro quo as they say.’

  ‘Who says?’

  Alex laughed. ‘No idea. Some philosopher at a guess.’

  ‘Any dessert for you?’ The waitress was back.

  They gave their orders and then sat in silence. Alex looked out across the beach. It was almost completely dark now, and the stars were coming out in the inky sky.

  ‘Okay,’ said Heath, just as their chocolate brûlées with white chocolate panna cotta and a chocolate brownie arrived.

  Alex cracked the sugar covering on her brûlée. ‘You’ll help?’ She didn’t look at him as a tide of emotion swept over her.

  ‘Sure, why not. It’ll be fun.’

  ‘And you should get your scoop.’

  ‘And you don’t want any credit?’

  She felt him examining her, as though she was about to tell a monstrous lie. ‘I’ve told you, no. If you help me, I’ll help you. Though—’

  ‘Here it comes,’ said Heath, biting into his brownie. ‘I knew it was too good to be true.’

  ‘No, nothing much but maybe an “additional reporting by”. Would that be too much to ask?’

  Heath sighed. ‘I guess not.’

  ‘So, deal?’

  He grinned. ‘Tell me what you found out today.’

  Thrust and parry.

  Alex considered him. He looked roguish in the candlelight of the restaurant, his eyes twinkling. No. Not twinkling, glinting. Hungry. She put a spoonful of the panna cotta into her mouth. It was deliciously rich and creamy. ‘I found out that Roger Fleet used to be a Catholic priest, but he lost his faith and left the Church,’ she said.

  Heath snorted. ‘Is that shorthan
d for saying he abused little choirboys and it got hushed up?’

  Alex shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so. And I think his faith was coming back. According to the aforementioned Mrs Archer, he was on retreat for a few days before he died.’

  ‘Retreat?’

  ‘You go to a monastery or convent and retreat from the world.’

  ‘And get your shit together, yes, I know about those. Okay. What else?’

  ‘Before Fleet lost his faith and after he’d become a priest he taught at a Catholic college, but he left under a bit of a cloud, though I’m not sure what it was. Not abuse,’ she said as Heath opened his mouth. ‘I told you that. But I might pay his sister—’

  ‘Sister?’

  ‘His sister,’ she emphasized, pleased to have his undivided attention, ‘another visit.’

  Heath smiled slowly at her. ‘Good work, Devlin. We have a deal.’

  It was later than she thought when they left the restaurant, though the night was still warm. She said goodbye to Heath, and went for a walk along the prom to clear her head, which was foggy from drink and cluttered with thoughts. Thoughts about Malone, about her sister, about Heath, about her longing to do something that mattered.

  There were still a few people around as she walked along the path above the beach. It was one of Alex’s favourite times to be in Sole Bay – the dreary days of winter had gone and the air was becoming warmer; the season was on the cusp of summer. On one side the moon glinted off the sea as the water undulated lazily beneath the starry sky. On the other side lights were on behind curtains, people living their lives in their own houses. She often wondered who they were, what sort of life they had.

  Was she being stupid asking Heath to help her look for Malone? She stopped and leaned on the railing, looking out to sea and to the empty horizon.

  No, another voice said to her. She needed to lay his ghost. Anyway, she’d set it in motion now. Heath had been intrigued by Malone after she’d told him the few things she knew about him. And it wasn’t until she talked to Heath that she realized how little that was. How much he had kept private. How much he had kept from her.

  She heard voices down below her on the beach. A couple, entwined, only having eyes for each other.

  Heath had eventually told her what Gary and Ronnie had said when he went to see them. They were still shaken up about finding the bodies. Gary had described the smell as catching in his throat, staying in his mouth for hours after. A meaty, sweet smell that clung to his clothes. He’d only been trying to do a good turn, he told Heath. And what had it got him? The sight of bloated and blackened decomposing bodies he would never forget, a smell that wouldn’t leave him and several hours of questioning by the cops. Ronnie had one interesting snippet of information: that when she had seen a picture of the two men on television later that night she had recognized Roger Fleet. She was almost sure she had seen him the morning they’d hired their boat, arguing with a girl or a woman in Lowdham village. She’d noticed them because their body language had been so angry, was how she put it. Alex told Heath that she would go to the village and have a poke about.

  The couple below her moved away, still in their own world. Alex sighed. Why was she such a disaster at relationships? A one-night stand that resulted in pregnancy, an affair with a man who was eventually accused of murder and a fling with someone who walked in and out of her life every so often. Not a great track record. It wasn’t that she was desperate to be involved with someone, it was that it was good to be able to share things with another person – the good and the bad. That was the point of being together, wasn’t it? And she got so lonely.

  And even if Heath found Malone, really, what was she going to do then? Run after him? Hit him? Fuck it, she’d cross that bridge if she came to it.

  She turned away from the sea and started to walk briskly down a now deserted street towards home.

  All at once she became aware of footsteps behind her, mirroring her own. She paused, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling as she pretended to look into a shop window. The footsteps stopped. Ridiculous really, she told herself, the bloody window was dark. Her heart was hammering, and her mouth was dry. She began walking again even more quickly, and the footsteps kept pace with hers.

  She stopped, turned around suddenly, saw a figure dart into an alleyway. Part of her wanted to run after the figure, demand to know what they were doing following her. She waited, but no one appeared. Overactive imagination. There was no one following her at all, just someone going home for the night. Her breathing steadied. Then ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ burst onto the air. God, she must change that ringtone.

  Withheld number.

  Breathing on the other end.

  ‘Who is this?’ Alex tried to push the fear away.

  There was a sniff. ‘Alex? When are you coming home? I’m waiting here for you.’

  ‘Sasha?’

  ‘I’m here.’ Her sister’s voice was plaintive.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At home. Your home.’

  Alex felt relief flood through her bones, closely followed by anger. ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘Why? Have you been worried about me?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid, of course I have. You were supposed to be in Sole Bay two days ago.’

  ‘I’m here now.’

  ‘But – never mind. Hang on, I’ll be there in two minutes.’ She put the phone back in her bag. Sasha. What on earth was she doing?

  Alex hurried down the road to her house, so intent on getting back that she failed to see the shadowy figure following her every step.

  14

  ‘Have some breakfast, Sasha,’ Alex said, putting two pieces of bread in the toaster. ‘I’ve got honey or lemon curd.’

  She tried not to yawn, but it was difficult. She’d lain awake until the small hours, turning things over and over in her mind, thinking about the boat, the dead men, why they were there, why Derek Daley felt the need to kill himself, why Sasha had appeared seemingly out of the blue, why she was feeling so bloody lonely. And had she made a mistake asking Heath Maitland to try and find out something – anything – about Malone? Had she come across as hopelessly needy?

  At about four o’clock, after she’d tried reading, listening to the radio and counting white woolly sheep, she’d decided she would take a sleeping pill. She had been resisting them ever since being prescribed them some months ago. But perhaps now was the time to stop resisting. On the other hand, she didn’t want to wake up and have a foggy head for the rest of the day.

  She’d compromised and had half a pill.

  At least the fog in her head was more like an autumn mist, though she did have a throbbing behind her eyes.

  Sasha sat down at the table, pulling the frayed sleeves of her jumper down over her hands. ‘That would be great,’ she said, smiling. ‘Sorry about last night. You know, just turning up like that and not wanting to talk or anything.’

  ‘No problem.’ The toast popped up and Alex put it in front of her, together with butter and honey and the lemon curd.

  ‘Mmm, great. One of each I think,’ said Sasha, beginning to butter the warm toast. ‘Any coffee?’

  ‘Are you ready to talk now?’

  ‘There’s nothing much to talk about. They said they’d emailed you to tell you I was coming, but I guess they didn’t say when.’

  ‘Sash …’ Alex didn’t know what to say. The email that told her Sasha had been released and would be living with her. As agreed. Guilt reared its ugly head. ‘You came out, what, two days ago? You haven’t been in touch; I’ve had no idea where you’ve been even. According to the social worker, you should have been here, with me. It could have been awkward. I mean, what if your social worker had decided to pay us a visit?’

  ‘Well, she didn’t, did she? Do you really want me around?’ She began to hum.

  ‘Sasha, of course I do,’ Alex said, gently. ‘And Gus will be so pleased to see you.’

  She stopped humming. ‘Okay. A
nd if you’re not going to make coffee, I’ll just have to do it.’ Sasha shook her head and was smiling as she filled the kettle. ‘Where’s the cafetière?’

  ‘Top right cupboard,’ said Alex, not sure what to make of this new, energized Sasha. It hadn’t been that long ago that she was sitting in a chair in a room not saying a word. Now she was chatting away and doing stuff as if, well, as if she was normal.

  ‘And talking about Gus, I’m looking forward to seeing him, too,’ said Sasha, pouring boiling water on the coffee grounds. ‘He gets on with his dad?’

  ‘Really well. He’s been working for him.’

  ‘In the bar?’

  ‘That, and some odd building jobs.’

  ‘And that’s what you want for your son, is it?’ asked Sasha, mildly. ‘Here’s your coffee. Any more toast?’

  Alex’s head was beginning to swim. What was Sasha up to now? Taking an interest in Gus. Going from normal to nasty and back to normal again. She couldn’t keep up.

  ‘If that’s what he wants to do, then yes, I’m happy.’

  ‘Okay.’ Sasha studied the toaster.

  ‘What do you mean “okay”?’

  ‘It seems to me you should have more ambition for Gus. He’s a bright boy, could go to university or do anything. When he was growing up—’

  ‘What, Sasha?’ Alex tried to breathe steadily, the throbbing behind her eyes increasing in intensity. ‘What about when he was growing up?’ When you weren’t there for him.

  ‘He was quite clever in school, wasn’t he?’ She pinched the toast between thumb and forefinger before throwing it on to the plate. ‘Ouch. That was hot.’ She sat down again.

  What was going on here? ‘I’m proud of Gus,’ she said, eventually. ‘He had a difficult time when he was young. And he is now doing what he wants and is happy doing it. That’s all I want for him, Sasha. To be happy.’

  Her sister looked at her over the rim of her cup.

  ‘So. He’s coming home. The good life getting him down?’

  ‘No, don’t be so shitty.’ God, her sister could be irritating. ‘I told you. He’s coming to see me. I don’t know what his plans are. He’s his own person now.’ Alex felt the pressure behind her eyes. She still hadn’t had a text from him telling her when he was arriving. Perhaps he would tell her when he had landed. That was it. That’s what he would do. ‘Anyway. Enough of that. What about you?’