She knew they could have held the debrief over the phone or any one of the video chat apps, but it was never the same. Dan was pretty unreadable emotionally and body language-wise, but she’d known him for a while now and could read more into what he said by being with him.
What she hadn’t told the boss was that Bristol was on the route to Chepstow and that she had every intention of returning via Mac’s and, hopefully, spending the night with him. There had to be some perks in this investigation. She needed that double vodka as well as that hug, especially this particular Saturday. Usually on a weekend morning, she and her mum would sit at the kitchen table reading the newspapers but today, Mum hadn’t appeared. When Lucy had called out, ‘See you!’ she’d just called back, ‘All right, lovely. See you when I see you.’
Which wasn’t very satisfactory, considering everything that was going on. She’d had a crap night’s sleep, tossing and turning, remembering her father’s defeated tone.
She wins, okay? It was nice to see you, though. Lots of love.
At least her mother had promised to tell her the truth. When she’d sorted out what to say. It’s complicated. Or would she be trying to create another collection of lies? Last night, Lucy had brought out the old shoe box from under her bed and flicked through the photographs of her father. There were a couple of him before he’d married Mum when he’d had long hair and skinny jeans, a Malcolm X T-shirt. She’d studied the photos at length but struggled to put the angry-looking twenty-something Carl Davies together with today’s clean-cut salesman. Talk about chalk and cheese, but then she supposed he’d had to sharpen up when he’d married Mum and Lucy came along. She liked the fact he’d been so passionate about real issues, though. It gave him a depth of character and gravitas she admired.
As Lucy drove up Dan’s hill, she wondered why he lived somewhere so remote. It may be near Chepstow but it felt secluded, almost isolated, thanks to being surrounded by moorland, with nothing but the odd sheep and rabbit for company. She slowed when she spotted the thick clump of trees that heralded the Forresters’ place and swung left, into the drive. Parking next to Dan’s BMW, Lucy climbed outside, stretched. The air was clear and bitingly cold, holding none of the pollutant tang you could taste in London or Bristol. Grabbing her handbag, she went to walk for the front door but stopped when she heard a rasping sound behind her.
Her heart just about stopped.
Slowly she turned to face the Rottweiler. The dog was standing at the edge of the drive, lips pulled back over twin rows of gleaming white teeth. Trails of saliva oozed from its jaws.
‘Hey Poppy,’ she said as soothingly as she could with her heart hammering like a road drill. ‘Remember me?’
She knew she shouldn’t move or she might trigger an attack, but if she sprinted like buggery, she might just make it to the front door before the dog did.
‘Poppy,’ she said again and at the same time the Rottweiler relaxed. Strolled forward like nothing had happened. She shoved her nose into Lucy’s palm, seemingly unaware that she’d just scared the crap out of her. She patted the dog’s head, the size of a fridge door. She still found it hard to believe Dan had rescued the dog, but that was Dan for you. Surprising and heart-warmingly altruistic. Together the dog and Lucy walked towards the front door, which opened as they arrived. Aimee shot outside like a rocket.
‘Lucy!’ Aimee collided with Lucy’s thighs, hugging them tightly.
‘Hi, Aimee,’ she greeted Dan’s daughter.
‘Can you stay for lunch? Please, please? We’re having sausages and mash. Mum said to ask you but only after you’ve seen Daddy. He’s in the study. He got home really late last night. He was in Morocco and then he had to stay in London. I was asleep but he still woke up before I did. He brought me a camel back. Not a real one, a toy one…’
Aimee took Lucy by the hand and led her inside the house, still chattering.
‘Tell your mum I’d love to stay for lunch,’ Lucy said when Aimee paused for breath. ‘How’s my godson?’
‘He cries a lot.’ Aimee pulled a face.
‘That’s what babies do when they’re teething,’ called Dan. ‘Come in, Lucy. I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee here…’
Settled in an armchair by a window overlooking rolling hills of heather, grass and bracken, Lucy sipped her coffee, studying Dan. He looked pretty okay, well rested, no injuries that she could see.
‘How was it?’ she asked. ‘Remember much?’
‘Absolutely nothing.’ He poured himself some coffee from the cafetière. Came and sat on the chair opposite while he drank. ‘It was strange, knowing I’d been there but not recognising anything. The odd phrase or two returned, but otherwise it was as though I’d never been.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She didn’t know how he coped having his memory so fucked up. It would drive her insane.
He looked surprised. ‘Don’t be. I don’t let it trouble me, as you know. So, what’s new on the case? You said Ricky had been charged…’
He already knew about the Indonesians, so she ran him through meeting Teflon Tom and Ajay, her interest in Charles Tyne Associates and HBS Property Developers. She sent him a photograph of Tomas by email, along with Ajay’s details.
‘Tomas definitely knows Chris Malone. The woman who tried to poison Ricky. But he wouldn’t tell me. He’s a bit of a hard bastard…’ She told him about Tomas’s history.
Dan fell quiet, obviously mulling everything over before he told her about his trip. When he got to the part where Naziha had been threatened, Lucy found herself sitting forward, struggling to stay silent and not curse loudly. Let him finish his story, she told herself. Don’t distract
