Fifth Victim

I put down my glass of sparkling water very precisely. ‘There’s nothing going on between us, Dina. Parker is strictly my boss.’

‘Oh, come on,’ she said, eyes dancing. ‘There’s got to be more to it than that. I saw the way he watches you when you’re not looking.’

How did I tell her that Parker was probably checking for signs I was cracking up? That he knew, better than anyone, what I’d been through – was still going through, every day – with Sean.

‘We’re friends. Good friends. No more than that.’

She was still smiling in a way that was a sudden irritation, but I knew if I let that show she’d assume she was right. I kept my expression neutral as the waiter deposited my French onion soup and Dina’s green salad in front of us. I’d chosen a table inside rather than on the street, quietly insisting on a corner where I could watch the exits. I’d already recced our escape route, should we need one.

‘Is he married? Is that it?’

Give it a rest!

I suppressed a sigh. ‘He was. He’s a widower.’

‘Oh.’ She digested that for a moment. ‘What was she like, his wife? I mean … what happened to her?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said, not wanting to admit that until a few months ago I hadn’t known that Parker had ever been married in the first place. A very private man, self-contained. ‘It was before my time.’

‘So, what’s stopping you?’ she pressed, not taking the hint. Her tone turned teasing. ‘I mean, he’s kinda good-looking – for an old guy.’

‘He’s only just turned forty,’ I said. ‘That hardly puts him in his dotage.’

‘And that makes him how much older than you?’

‘Twelve years,’ I said. Not much in the great scheme of things. Sean was thirty-four, sitting halfway between us – and not just in age. I picked up my knife and fork. ‘Maybe Parker’s not my type. Or maybe I’m not his.’

‘Hey, you’re lovely. And if you’d let me take you in hand for a day, you could be stunning,’ Dina countered with a smile. ‘Don’t sell yourself short!’

I remembered Landers telling me not to underestimate myself, too, but his assessment was all to do with how much I might scare a potential opponent, rather than lure them. Was it normal, I wondered, to value his opinion more highly?

‘I’m not a doll you can dress up, Dina,’ I warned.

‘I wouldn’t dare – I have a feeling I’d lose my fingers,’ she said, laughing out loud now, but after a moment she sobered. ‘He’s interested, though, I can tell.’

I applied myself to my soup bowl, cutting through the cheese crust to the rich liquid and onion beneath, chewing, swallowing. When I glanced up, though, Dina was still watching me, her own cutlery poised. ‘Maybe I’m spoken for.’

‘Really?’ she said, letting her hands drop. ‘You have a boyfriend? No way.’

‘And there you were only a few moments ago, telling me how pretty I was,’ I said, lightly mocking. ‘I’m wounded.’

She had the grace to flush. ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’ She took a breath. ‘What I meant was, it must be some special guy who understands what it is you do, and … lets you do it.’

I debated briefly on telling Dina that it was Sean who’d recruited me into the business in the first place. That he’d recognised both a need within me and the means to fulfil it. It was only when I put down my soup spoon, very neatly in the centre of my empty bowl, that I answered.

‘He understands.’

She tipped her head on one side, considering. ‘Is he a bodyguard too?’ she asked then, saw from my face the accuracy of that sudden flash of intuition. ‘He is! Oh, how romantic! Travelling all over the world to dangerous and exotic locations together. It’s like something out of a movie.’ Her voice was positively wistful. ‘Tell me, have the two of you ever been in one of those life-or-death situations?’

I closed my eyes briefly, saw again the snap of Sean’s head, back and right, as the fateful round hit, and felt my throat threaten to close up entirely. ‘Yes.’

‘So, spill – what’s he like?’ She was leaning forwards in her chair and her sparkling gaze had turned voracious.

Now there’s a question. Saying nothing would only make her dig harder. Saying anything light-hearted would half kill me. I spread my hands in a helpless shrug and hoped the truth would shock her into silence.

‘Sean is … the other half of me.’

It made her regroup rather than retreat, a temporary respite that lasted until after the waiter had cleared away our plates and brought large tall glasses of iced coffee in place of dessert.

‘Don’t you miss him – this Sean? Doesn’t he mind you being away from home all this time?’

I didn’t point out it had been less than a fortnight. ‘Yes, I do miss him,’ I said honestly. ‘But he’s in no position to argue.’

‘I guess not,’ she said slowly, forming her own conclusions. Then her face cleared. ‘Hey, why don’t you and Sean double-date with me and Tor for the charity auction? That would be so cool!’

‘Dina—’

‘And it will look much less suspicious than you tagging along with us all on your own,’ she pointed out fast. It was an entirely logical suggestion, spoilt only by her eager but slightly self-satisfied expression. ‘What d’you say?’

I let my breath out hard, as much because I disliked being backed into a corner as because of the insurmountable difficulties.

‘He can’t,’ I said, flatly enough to stop any protests she might have been about to make. ‘Even if he could … Well, he just can’t. Don’t push me on this, Dina. It’s not going to happen.’

Dina took in my set face and was uncharacteristically silent for a moment. Then she said carefully, ‘OK, but … can I meet him?’

The denial was on my lips. I expected it. If Dina’s disappointed air was anything to go by, she expected it, too.

‘Sure,’ I said. You asked for this. ‘Why not?’

CHAPTER NINETEEN

When we reached his hospital room, Sean was lying on his back with his head tilted towards the door as if awaiting our arrival.

We paused in the doorway. Dina because this was the last thing she had expected, and I was mean enough – or pissed off enough – not to have warned her what to expect. And me because I had a sudden recall of Parker’s report on Sean’s last CT scan.

‘… his physical therapist has been growing kinda concerned about some of his responses … His brain activity … they think it may be slowing down …’

Dina had asked plenty of questions on the ride over, but I’d been non-committal, thoroughly regretting the impulse which had made me suggest this meeting in the first place. After all, what the hell did I hope to achieve? My stubborn silence had only served to intrigue her further.

Now, I took a breath and stepped into the room. ‘Sean, Dina. Dina – this is Sean,’ I said over my shoulder. We’d stopped briefly to pick up coffee on the way in and now I flipped off the lid and put the cup down on the cabinet near to his head. There was no reaction.

When I turned back I found Dina had remained frozen, startled, in the open doorway.

‘Maybe – if he’s sleeping – we, um, shouldn’t disturb him?’ she whispered, too awkward to know where to put her hands.

‘If you can do anything to wake him, Dina, be my guest,’ I said. I smoothed back the hair from his face, exposing the livid scar, and knew she still hadn’t moved. ‘It’s not contagious,’ I added roughly, aware I was being cruel to the girl and unable to stop myself. ‘He’s been in a coma for three months.’