that Jenkins would be uncomfortably aware of the fact that Adamson was well-liked, particularly by Gates.
He drained his mug and then leaned back against the couch. He shut his eyes, enjoying the closeness of Jenkins’ body as she relaxed into him.
He felt her hand brush against his leg as she moved closerinto him. Even though he had his eyes shut, he could feel her staring at him.
‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right today?’ Jenkins asked gently.
‘Why not?’ he asked as he opened his eyes.
She was staring at him intently.
‘You know why,’ she answered.
Brady shook his head, refusing to even acknowledge what she was talking about.
She had read the files from his childhood, files that had lain untouched for years. Jenkins knew more about his past than anyone else, aside from two people, one of whom was Jimmy Matthews. Even Claudia wasn’t fully aware of his background.
‘Come on, Jack, this is me you’re talking to. Thirty years ago to this exact day you witnessed your mother being murdered. It’s obvious it’s had an effect on you—’
‘Isn’t that meant to be confidential? Doctor-patient crap?’ Brady abruptly interrupted.
‘It’s still confidential,’ answered Jenkins quietly.
‘Yeah, but you’re not my shrink any more,’ Brady replied coldly.
His mouth was dry and he was starting to feel caught out. She had lured him into a false sense of security and then trapped him.
‘I’m not asking as your doctor, I’m asking as your friend.’
‘Is that what you are? A friend?’ Brady sceptically asked.
‘I don’t know …’ she whispered as she stared into his troubled, dark brown eyes.
She searched his eyes, wanting an answer.
Brady suddenly came to his senses and stood up.
She looked at him, confused.
He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. All he knew was that he needed some fresh air. He resisted the urge to grab his coat and just walk out.
‘Jack?’ Jenkins questioned, startled by his sudden reaction.
Brady looked at her and shook his head.
‘I can’t do this,’ he stated, gesturing at the Scotch on the floor beside her.
Jenkins nodded. She knew exactly what Brady was referring to, she didn’t need him to point it out.
‘I need to get some sleep,’ Brady reasoned.
Jenkins stood up and smoothed down her dress.
‘Thanks for the drink,’ she said as she picked up her coat and bag.
Brady watched silently as she put her coat on, wishing there was something more he could say.
‘You sure you’ll be all right on your own?’
He shrugged.
‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. As Brady’s psychologist, she knew that because of his past he couldn’t handle emotional intimacy. Her dark brown eyes said it all, they both knew that their professional relationship had just crossed the line.
Brady pushed his plate away. Ordinarily, a bacon and egg stottie was the only way to kick-start a bad day. But today wasn’t like any other bad day. It was worse, much worse.
He took a mouthful of black, bitter coffee as he looked around the decrepit basement cafeteria. It was long due an overhaul. The red, chipped laminated sixties tables had seen better times, as had Brady. He looked at the barred windows. The grey, drizzling day bleakly called out to him to make a move.
It was only 8.36 am and he felt exhausted. He had had less than three hours’ sleep. Disturbed sleep at that. The old drunk who had accosted him earlier had troubled him more than he wanted to admit. And when he finally did fall into a restless slumber, it was only to be beset by nightmares about the old drunk.
Brady rubbed his tired face. His rough stubble caught him by surprise. He needed to straighten himself out. He knew that at some point he’d be facing Gates, if not the press, and he needed to look halfway decent.
But he couldn’t go home. Not with Kate there.
He had arranged for a patrol car to drive by every halfhour during the night to ward off Madley’s henchmen. But when he had called Kate earlier, she had made it clear that she couldn’t be bought off with a patrol car. She wanted Matthews and was convinced that Brady was protecting him. Brady had tried his best to persuade her that he was as much in the dark about Matthews’ whereabouts as she was, but she wasn’t accepting it.
The conversation had ended badly. Enough for him to want to keep out of her way for a while. He couldn’t blame her for being angry; a lot had happened in the last twenty-four hours and he still had no answers.
Brady always kept a razor and clean clothes at work for unexpected situations like this. As soon as he had finished his coffee his next visit would be to the dilapidated shower rooms hidden in the basement. He had no choice; he stank from the crap he’d been dealing with for the past thirty hours. And there was still more crap to deal with before the day really got going.
But at least they had Ellison in custody, albeit still drunk. He had rolled home at 7 am. From what Brady had heard Ellison had got quite a shock when CID showed up.
But Brady was painfully aware that Sleeping Beauty spending the night with Ellison hadn’t exactly helped his judgement. And in the cold light of day he was now wondering whether he had been over-zealous in dragging Ellison in? He already had Gates questioning his decision to bring Simmons in. But Brady knew it was more than male pride where Ellison was concerned. He had a photo and a flyer with his gig circled in red. That and a barmaid stating that she had seen someone of his description with the victim hours before she was murdered.
Brady was now waiting for news on Ellison’s DNA andprints to see whether they matched the forensic evidence found at the crime scene. And he also had Jed, their computer forensics officer, searching Ellison’s laptop and desktop computers that would tie him to the victim.
Brady’s phone rang.
‘Yeah?’ he answered.
‘It’s him all right,’ answered Conrad.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, sir. He definitely has the same tattoo as the victim covering his back.’
‘Thank fuck,’ said Brady, relieved. ‘All right Conrad, as soon as the bugger’s sober let me know.’
Brady disconnected the call. He forced himself to move, aware that it wouldn’t be long before Ellison was clearheaded enough to interview.
‘Who are you trying to impress?’ Harvey laughed as he took in Brady’s clean-shaven face and change of clothes.
For once, Brady was wearing a shirt and a suit. It was the only change of clothes he had at the station in case he suddenly had to give a press conference.
Brady gave him the finger before going into his office.
He knew Harvey was talking about Jenkins. He was sure half the station would have been talking about them by now. It wouldn’t have gone undetected that she had been in his office with him until well after four in the morning.
‘Touched a nerve have I, Jack?’ Harvey called out after him jovially. ‘By the way, you don’t happen to know where Dr Jenkins is, do you?’ he laughed.
Brady slammed his office door shut.
He pulled out his BlackBerry as he limped over to his desk.
He sat down and waited for her to pick up.
‘Amelia?’
‘Yes?’ answered Jenkins.
‘It’s Jack,’ added Brady.
