‘Why, what time is it?’ said Fleet, moving suddenly and sending a jolt through his ribcage that was powerful enough that it might have been delivered by another fist. As for his head … Christ. He’d only once in his life known anything like it – the time he and Thomas Murphy had filched a bottle of gin from Tom’s mother’s drinks cabinet, and Tom had tricked Fleet into downing most of the bottle. When Fleet wasn’t looking, Tom had been topping up his own glass with water, meaning Fleet had got the lion’s share of the hangover, too.
‘It’s barely seven,’ said Holly, holding a hand against Fleet’s chest to pin him. ‘And just so we’re clear, you’re not going anywhere anyway. Except maybe to A&E to get that bump on your head checked out.’ She turned to Anne. ‘Is there an A&E near here?’
Anne opened her mouth to answer, but Fleet interrupted.
‘I don’t need to go to A&E. I need …’ He’d moved, and he winced again. ‘I need to get to the station.’
Holly laughed, a single, bitter bark. ‘What did I tell you?’ she said to Anne over her shoulder.
Anne smiled sympathetically, and Fleet couldn’t tell whether it was aimed at Holly or him. ‘I think I’ll leave the two of you to work it out,’ she said. ‘Just shout if you need anything.’
She slipped into the corridor outside, closing the door quietly behind her. When she was gone, the room immediately felt smaller, the atmosphere within it thicker. Holly seemed to feel it, too, and withdrew a fraction from her position at the head end of Fleet’s bed.
‘She called you?’ said Fleet, to test the silence. ‘That’s how you’re here?’
Holly’s lips were in a pout, her arms folded across her chest. Fleet knew the signs well: his wife was braced for an argument.
‘She got my number from your phone. Used your thumb to unlock it. She’s a smart lady,’ she added, and to Fleet it sounded like an accusation.
‘Very smart,’ he said. ‘Attractive, too, in case you didn’t notice.’
It was a risk, but it broke the tension. Holly tutted, unfolding her arms, and turned her chin to hide her smile.
Fleet shuffled until his back was against the headboard. ‘What did she say to get you to come down here?’ he asked. It struck him that he hadn’t said thank you to Anne – and immediately after, as he waited on his wife’s response, that maybe he should be withholding judgement on whether Anne deserved his gratitude or not. Maybe she’d rescued him from a physical beating, but he could already sense that there was an emotional one still to come.
‘She said you’d been hurt. She said she figured I’d want to know.’
‘And did you?’
The pout was back. Already. ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’ But rather than crossing her arms again, Holly exhaled, and dropped on to the foot end of Fleet’s bed.
Fleet tried not to wince as the ripples carried through the mattress.
‘What happened, Rob? You’ve obviously been busy making new friends.’
‘I was just getting reacquainted with an old one, actually,’ Fleet answered. Seeing the look that came into Holly’s eyes, he held up a hand. ‘He found me. I didn’t go looking. I promise.’
Holly opened her mouth, then shut it again. She looked his way, studying him, and shook her head. ‘You’re a mess. You do realise that, don’t you? They spared your face, but your body’s black and blue, and I really don’t like the look of that bump.’ She reached to touch Fleet’s forehead, and Fleet shied away. ‘I’m serious about A&E, you know. You need to get yourself checked out.’
‘I know. And I will,’ Fleet lied. ‘But not today.’
Another pout. ‘The case?’
Fleet nodded. ‘Things are coming to a head. Roger’s set on charging the girl’s boyfriend, but …’
Holly waited. ‘But …’ she prompted eventually.
This time Fleet was the one to shake his head. He regretted it immediately, and reached to test his bump with his fingertips.
‘You don’t think he did it,’ Holly said for him. ‘You think Roger’s just trying to draw a line.’
‘I know Roger’s trying to draw a line. The man’s a walking Magic Marker.’
Holly laughed. ‘Now there’s an image,’ she said. ‘Personally, I’ve always pictured him as more of a ruler. You know, if we’re comparing him to stationery.’
‘The ruler’s just what he’s got stuck up his –’
‘Rob,’ said Holly sharply, swiftly followed by another laugh.
You see? Fleet told himself, beneath his smile. It’s moments like this that are the problem. How much easier things would be if he and Holly never accidentally got along.
‘So what makes you so uncertain?’ Holly asked him. ‘About what’s his name. The boyfriend. Are you even sure the girl is dead? Because they said on the news –’
‘Mason. The kid’s name is Mason. And we’re not sure of anything. That’s the problem.’
Once again Holly waited.
Fleet sighed. ‘I was never convinced, you know. About Mason. I mean, it all made sense. The idea that he killed Sadie was about the only theory that did. He had motive, opportunity, the temperament. But it just … it never felt right. You know?’ Fleet glanced and saw Holly nod. ‘The only thing I was sure of was that Sadie’s friends were lying to us. Holding something back. And as for Mason … he’s basically his own worst enemy. Since the day Sadie went missing, all he’s been doing is digging himself further into a hole. That’s why we kept on at them. We had to. I had to. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been doing my job. But I swear to God, Holly, it wasn’t like people have been saying.’
‘What have people been saying?’ said Holly, frowning.
‘They think we – I – became fixated. Because of what happened to Jeannie. You see, Mason …
