37
She woke with a start, fighting her way from beneath her duvet, drenched in sweat. Confusion subsided as she lay there in the dark. The doorbell was ringing. Shit! She looked at the clock by her bedside. Eight-fifteen. That was OK. Naylor had asked her to stay clear of the office while he got the A1 incident underway and marked out their respective territories.
Jumping out of bed, she hurried to her bedroom window. It was a glorious day and Jo was at the door with newspapers, a carton of milk, and what looked suspiciously like a bag of fresh croissants. Daniels flung on a robe and rushed downstairs, her heart pounding from the nightmare still running in her head.
Jo was casually dressed in a pair of cut-off shorts and her favourite faded khaki T-shirt. She’d worn it the first time they’d gone out together, but with jeans and killer heels that made her even taller than her normal six feet. They had met up at Francesca’s, an Italian restaurant not a million miles from where they both lived. Jo had had her back to the door, chatting to a staff member, her distinctive laughter filling the air when Daniels walked in. Then, sensing a presence behind her, she’d swung round, her eyes sending a secret message across the room: You are so special. It turned Daniels’ legs to jelly.
Still did, even now.
‘Hey . . .’ Daniels’ tone was flat. She kissed Jo lightly on the cheek. ‘Am I glad to see you?’
‘You don’t sound it. I nearly didn’t knock when I saw no car.’
‘Some bastard stole it.’
‘No! When?’
‘Last night. I was going to call you, but to be perfectly honest I couldn’t be arsed.’
‘I noticed your bedroom curtains were drawn. You feeling OK? You look awful.’
‘Could’ve done with a better sleep, but I’m fine.’
‘You sure? I rang the office and they told me you weren’t due in till twelve.’ Jo stepped into the hallway, squeezed past the Yamaha motorbike, turning to face Daniels when they reached the kitchen. ‘If you want the truth, I came round because I was curious to know why you were taking time off in the middle of a murder enquiry. You’re the SIO on the arson in Ralph Street, aren’t you?’
Daniels nodded.
‘You’re not ill, are you?’
‘No . . . I’m involved in two cases, Jo. But therein lies the problem. In one of them, I’m a witness and possibly even a suspect—’
‘What?’ Confusion flashed across Jo’s face.
Leaving nothing out, Daniels briefed her on the death of Ivy Kerr, the fact that she and Gormley had been on the scene at the time, the whole sorry mess. She also mentioned Naylor’s insistence that she stay out of the MIR until the lines were well and truly drawn between the two incidents . . .
‘He’s covering our arses so that further down the line no barrister or judge could accuse us of any impropriety or conflict of interest.’
‘Sounds sensible,’ Jo said.
Daniels locked eyes with her.
‘What?’ Jo said. ‘You’re unhappy with that?’
Pointing at the bakery bag in Jo’s hand, Daniels sidestepped the question. ‘What you got there?’
‘Kate? Don’t do it . . . This will not end well.’
Daniels wasn’t listening. Splitting the team was a sound idea, but that didn’t stop her feeling aggrieved. OK, she had Robson and Gormley to investigate the fire, but Carmichael had skills they didn’t and she’d be unable to utilize them while her DC was working for the Super. Besides, she’d promised Hank they would do a little digging themselves and she didn’t feel inclined to let regulations change her mind.
‘Fine!’ Jo said. ‘If you insist on getting fired you need to eat before going in.’ Jo held out two Danish pastries, a warning in her eyes. ‘You, coffee. Me, eggs.’
Daniels put on the coffee, excused herself, then ran upstairs and jumped in the shower. Had Jo not been there she’d have skipped breakfast altogether and gone into the incident room in spite of Naylor’s insistence that she stay away. But now she had an invitation to spend time with Jo, maybe for once she’d actually do as she was told.
Jo tried to talk Daniels out of her maverick tendencies but she wouldn’t listen, so they took their coffee outside into the sunshine and sat in her back yard like an old married couple, scanning the morning papers the way they used to, light years ago.
‘Stop it!’ Jo said.
‘Stop what?’ Acting innocent, Daniels lowered the Guardian.
‘You were staring at me!’
‘No I wasn’t!’ Daniels pointed at Jo’s Serengeti sunglasses. ‘Anyway, how can you possibly tell with those on?’
Jo tapped her right lens and then lifted the glasses on to the top of her head. ‘With these I can see straight into your heart. There’s no escaping my powers!’
Daniels laughed out loud.
She began reading again, grateful still to have Jo in her life, albeit it not as close as she’d like. Ironically, the job that had pulled them apart now bound them together as friends and colleagues. She didn’t have to like the situation to accept it as a fact. But on that beautifully sunny morning – surrounded by ugly brick walls on all sides and no view whatsoever – she couldn’t think of a single thing that would spoil that moment.
Then the phone rang.