‘Thank you. For everything.’
Alex felt a wedge of guilt at the sound of Chloe’s gratitude. It wasn’t deserved. If she had acted earlier – if she had trusted Chloe with the name of their suspect – they wouldn’t have been in that hospital room.
‘I haven’t forgotten Luke, by the way.’ She moved her hand from Chloe’s arm. She wasn’t sure whether or not telling her she had been to her parents’ house was a good idea. Chloe was still in recovery. Her physical injuries would heal quickly enough, but the things that lay beneath the surface were going to take far longer. She didn’t need any additional stresses. But she had always wanted to know the truth about her brother’s death. Alex wanted her to know she hadn’t forgotten that.
‘I need a bit of time now,’ Chloe told her. In truth, she was beginning to wonder if what Alex had said the previous week had been right. Perhaps she would never know the truth. Perhaps not knowing wouldn’t be such a terrible thing after all.
Alex nodded. ‘Of course you do.’ She stood from the bed. ‘By the way, there’s someone waiting in the corridor to see you.’
‘Who?’
‘I don’t know, but he’s very good-looking, he’s got lovely manners, and unless he belongs to one of the nurses I’d suggest you snap him up.’
Chloe smiled. Scott.
‘If you need anything, you know where I am. Is he giving you a lift home?’
Chloe nodded.
‘You’re going back to the flat?’
She shrugged. ‘Can’t let him beat me, can I? Scott offered his place, but I don’t think it’s really appropriate that I stay there. We’re not even together. He’s been so nice. I don’t deserve it.’
Alex pulled a face. ‘Don’t deserve to be happy? Well if you don’t, no one else is entitled either.’ She paused. She didn’t really believe Chloe wanted to go back to that flat, not after everything that had happened there.
She thought about the deafening silence that filled her house.
‘Why don’t you come and stay at mine?’
Chloe looked up at her, surprised by the offer. ‘Really?’ she said, the single word soaked with scepticism.
‘Really. I have a four-bedroom house I can’t really afford alone. You can help me pay the mortgage.’
Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘Thank you. I’ll think about it.’
Neither of them suspected she would need too long to make a decision.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
She found Harry Blake in his office. He was at the window, staring out at a rainy February morning. A mug of tea had gone untouched on the desk beside a pile of paperwork that looked as though it hadn’t been disturbed in quite a while.
‘Sir.’
He turned to greet her, his daydream broken. ‘How are you, Alex?’
She exhaled loudly. It seemed a sufficient answer.
‘I second that.’ He took his seat and gestured for her to sit opposite him at the desk. ‘Seen Chloe?’
‘I went this morning. She’s going home today.’
He nodded. ‘You want to talk to me about her, don’t you?’
It was disconcerting how transparent her thoughts were. But she had made no secret of the fact she championed Chloe as an officer. Even from a distance, DC Lane had proven her merit once more. They may have eventually reached the link to Julia Edwards’s son, but Chloe’s email had got Alex there quicker than if she’d been left to her own devices. Chloe was sharp, perceptive. She had been knocked off focus by the resurrection of her brother’s memory and an unsolved mystery which she no longer wanted to remain in the dark, but once the truth of Luke’s death was uncovered Alex was confident Chloe would be able, some time, to return to her true form.
And she was now determined that the truth would be uncovered, somehow.
‘I know this is out of your hands to a certain extent,’ Alex told Harry, ‘but help me persuade professional standards she has to come back.’
Harry moved his hands to the desk, interlocking his fingers. ‘What’s happened in the past few days will go in her favour, strange though that sounds.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know, it’s a lot to ask them to overlook.’
‘I know. But they can’t afford to lose both of us.’
‘You don’t have to do this. I doubt Chloe’s going to mention your involvement, and I certainly won’t.’
Officers had been allowed to stay in the job following worse offences than Chloe’s, but Alex also knew of those who’d been dismissed from duty for far less. There were mitigating circumstances. She had to believe that Chloe would be allowed a second chance. Admitting her own involvement was the right thing to do.
‘A while back you were talked out of handing in your resignation.’
Alex sighed and sat back in her chair. ‘There was a lot going on. I had some difficult choices to make.’
‘I know how that feels,’ Harry muttered. He looked away from her, his eyes drifting to the photograph on his desk.
It was turned away from Alex, but she knew what the image depicted. Harry’s children: two boys standing on a sandy beach, clutching surfboards, wide smiles stretched across their young, sun-kissed faces.
‘I’m glad you changed your mind. You’re a great detective, Alex. And you’ve been a good friend over the years.’
She didn’t like where this was going, but supposed it had been inevitable. Harry had never really returned to the station, not fully. Now his absence of spirit made sense. She had suspected weeks earlier that he no longer wanted to be there.
‘Why the past tense?’
‘I’m standing down. The past eighteen months have changed my priorities. This job has given me a lot over the years, but it’s taken a hell of a lot more. I want to see my kids grow up.’
He looked away once more, uncomfortable by his own words. ‘I’m sorry.’
She waved away the apology. She didn’t expect other people not to talk about their own children because of her situation. It wasn’t something she wanted either. She’d had years of pitying looks and awkward platitudes. She was beyond all that now. Harry had supported her in the past. She knew she should now offer him the same.
‘You’ve got to do whatever you think is right for you and your family.’
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. A uniformed officer entered the room. ‘DI King, there’s a woman asking for you in reception.’
Alex gave him a nod and turned back to Harry. ‘No rest for the wicked.’
She headed downstairs to reception.
Sitting on one of the plastic seats of the waiting area, her hands clasped together in her lap, was Chloe’s mother.
‘Mrs Griffiths.’
Susan Griffiths stood hurriedly and reached for her bag from the chair beside her. She clutched it to her chest as though using it as a barrier between her and Alex. There was a shadow to the side of her face, a blur of muted purple that looked like the beginnings of a bruise.
‘I need to talk to you about Luke.’
Chapter Seventy-Eight