Chameleon's Shadow

think an attempt to throttle your ex-fiance?e is going to do anything to mitigate that opinion?’

‘I don’t care.’

‘Well, you should. Friendless people get pushed to the margins . . . and that’s a lonely place to be. Did Jen give any other reason for coming, apart from saying it was my suggestion?’

‘No.’

‘Did she offer an explanation for why I might have invited her?’

‘To talk through unresolved issues about the relationship.’

‘That’s not the kind of language I use,’ said Willis mildly. ‘I try to avoid the more obvious cliche?s.’ He paused. ‘But let’s say I had suggested such a conversation, do you think I’d have left the pair of you to go it alone? How would that help me understand anything?’

‘You could have drooled over Jen for half an hour while she gave you a blow-by-blow account.’

Interesting choice of language. ‘Why would I want to do that?’

‘No idea, Doc . . . but she’s dressed up like a dog’s dinner to impress someone.’

‘You, presumably. Part of her distress seems to be that she was hoping to mend fences and was upset when you said you weren’t interested.’

‘She knew that before she came. We were dead in the water long before I went to Iraq.’

Willis eyed him thoughtfully. ‘What went wrong?’

‘It didn’t work out.’

‘Why not?’

Acland stared at the floor as if the answer lay there. ‘It just didn’t. Has she said any different in her letters to me?’

‘No. They’re bland and anodyne, and only evoke memories of happy times.’

‘She likes war movies. Soldiers get wounded and nurses read to them. She’d never write anything to her detriment.’

Willis frowned. ‘You seem to know her better than she knows you. She doesn’t give the impression of a woman who believed the relationship was –’ he echoed Acland’s phrase – ‘dead in the water.’

Acland raised his head and there was a sardonic gleam in his eye. ‘You’re about to make a liar out of me, Doc.’

‘How?’

‘I told Jen you didn’t go by appearances.’ He paused. ‘You’ll be putty in her hands if you forget what her profession is. She can produce any emotion you like –’ he snapped his fingers – ‘just like that. None of it’s real.’

‘Her distress seems real. Why would you want to strangle her, Charles?’

Acland shrugged. ‘Ask her. She’ll be a lot less distressed by the time you get back . . . as long as she’s got her bag.’ He held the man’s gaze for a moment. ‘What’s she already told you?’

‘That she tried to touch your cheek and you went berserk. She said you crushed her hands.’ He left out the end of Jen’s sentence, where she’d claimed in hysterical tones that he’d enjoyed hurting her.

‘She didn’t know what was wrong with me till I turned to face her. That’s when she started on the screaming routine.’

‘So you decided to strangle her to shut her up?’ murmured Willis ironically.

Acland shifted his position against the wall. ‘I never came close to strangling her. I wanted to give her a fright . . . persuade her to back off and leave me alone. Do you think I couldn’t have snapped her neck if I’d wanted to?’

‘That’s hardly the issue, Charles. You shouldn’t have put your hands on her at all.’

The lieutenant cracked his finger joints one by one. ‘But it’s OK for her to put her hand on me? Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Not if it was inappropriate.’

‘It was. I told her at least twice not to come any closer . . . even warned her I’d hurt her if she didn’t back off.’

‘Did you want to hurt her?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you enjoy it?’

The knuckle-cracking tic worked harder and faster. ‘No.’

Willis didn’t believe him. ‘Are you going to tell me why having Jen too close worries you?’

‘You don’t know her the way I do.’

‘Then tell me about her. Describe your relationship.’

‘There’s no point. She’s history. I’m not planning to see her again.’

‘Are you sure? You seem to have strong feelings for her still.’