Fleet wrestled to free himself from his coat. Then he propelled himself forwards, thrashing his way towards the boy in a messy mix of strokes. He was aware of a pain in his chest, which at first he’d assumed was coming from his lungs, until he realised it was the groaning of his ribs. He hadn’t wanted to say anything to Holly that morning, but he’d been fairly sure that at least a couple of them were broken.
Ahead, Luke was still floating face down. Fleet was struggling to close the gap. His shoulders were on fire, and his arms and legs felt as weak as ribbons. But then something in the river seemed to catch hold of him, and it was as though he was being funnelled along a flume. He’d entered the same channel that had hold of Luke, and steadily Fleet began to draw nearer. He was closer, closing … until at the last he felt certain he would be carried straight past by the current.
Fleet kicked again, trying to slow himself now, and flailed with an outstretched arm. He missed, flailed again, missed again, until –
Got you.
Fleet stopped kicking, allowing the water to carry them both on, and focused all his efforts on turning Luke over. From the angle Fleet had hold of the boy, it was like trying to flip a sodden mattress. But again, the current helped. The river kinked, and all at once the boy rolled on to his back. Fleet had to catch him to stop him rolling too far. He threaded an arm underneath the boy’s armpit, hoisting his chin clear of the water. There was no way of telling whether Luke was breathing or not, and no way Fleet could administer mouth to mouth – not while they were both still in the water.
Doing his best to hold Luke steady, Fleet turned his head from side to side. They were right in the centre of the waterway, a twenty-metre swim to either bank. With all his strength gone, and knowing it was probably useless, Fleet began kicking with his legs. His ribcage screamed at him, and when his body convulsed, his head whipped back and he found himself breathing in a mouthful of water. He coughed, kicked again, blind now, and kept on kicking until exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. By the end, he couldn’t be sure his legs were moving any more at all, or whether he and Luke hadn’t been turned back around and were being carried by the river straight out to sea.
But then he heard a voice, and felt something latch on to his arm. ‘I’ve got you,’ said the voice, over and over, and Fleet would have sworn in that moment that it was Jeannie’s. His little sister, a ghost in the river, come to bear him back to shore. Luke, he tried to say, but he found himself gasping. And then the weight Fleet was bearing suddenly lifted, and after that he was aware of nothing more.
Day Ten
DI Robin Fleet
He spotted her the moment he stepped outside. She had on her raincoat, even though the weather was finally lifting. The rain had stopped, anyway, and a gentle breeze was stirring the puddles on the pavement. On the horizon there was even a streak of blue, approximately the colour of Holly’s eyes. On a good day, that is. When she was cross, or upset, her eyes turned darker, more like the clouds that still dominated the sky.
Fleet descended the steps, and checked quickly in both directions before crossing the road.
‘I figured you must have left,’ he said, as he drew near. He hadn’t seen Holly since he’d woken up to the sight of her the day before – the morning after his altercation with Stephen Payne. In the time since, and following his little swim in the river, Fleet had spent the night at the local hospital, before discharging himself first thing that morning and heading directly to the station. It was now late afternoon, and the investigation was as good as over, though the repercussions of what Fleet had uncovered were only just beginning to unfold.
‘I’ve been spending some time with Anne,’ Holly said to him. ‘She gave me a tour of the local sights.’
In all their years together, Holly had never seen the town in which Fleet had grown up. His choice, obviously – not hers.
Fleet looked at his watch. ‘I can’t imagine that would have taken very long. What have you been doing for the other thirty-five and a half hours?’
‘Shopping,’ said Holly, and she reached into her pocket. ‘Here. After what you’ve been through, I imagine you feel like you need them. And I felt bad for throwing yours away.’ She held out a ten-pack of cigarettes. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to buy you twenty. You can think of these as being like a countdown. Ten more, and then you stop. Agreed?’
Fleet narrowed his eyes at her. He took the packet from her hand, then shook out a cigarette and planted it between his lips. ‘Thanks,’ he mumbled. He patted his jacket. ‘I don’t suppose you brought a –’
‘Agreed?’ Holly repeated. This time she held out a box of matches, just out of Fleet’s reach. She gave it a rattle.
Fleet smiled. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth, and fed it back into the packet. ‘In which case,’ he said, ‘I suppose I’d better make them count.’ He tucked both the cigarettes and the matches into his pocket. The truth was, he didn’t feel much like smoking right now anyway. His
