“Fine. I’ll send over some notes.”
“It’s a deal,” Diane gave one of her rare smiles, like sun breaking through on a winter day. “This feels like dangerous ground though, Heather. Be careful. Stay safe.”
CHAPTER25
“THERE’S BEEN A complication with today’s visit.”
Heather curled her hands around the warm polystyrene cup, watching Ben Parker’s face for a clue. Today he was all business again, no hint in his manner of the cozy lunch they’d shared, but he flashed her a slightly pained smile as they walked down the corridor.
“Oh?”
“An incident with another inmate.” Seeing her look, Parker shook his head slightly. “Nothing serious, but alongside a bit of a cock up with communications it’s messed up Michael Reave’s schedule. So. Now he’s in the yard for the next hour, when he’s supposed to be chatting with you.”
“You can’t just get him out?”
“I could,” Parker conceded. “But the warden isn’t keen. If there’s one thing Reave does like to complain about, it’s his yard access, or lack of it, and the warden doesn’t want to provoke more belly aching. So you’ve got a bit of a wait. Shall I get you another tea?”
Heather glanced down at the brown liquid in the cup. It smelt like it might have been near some tea once. “No. Thanks. Listen, can’t I see him in the yard?”
They had reached the door that led to the small interview room. Parker stopped, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.
“That’s very much not allowed, Heather …”
“But it’s urgent, isn’t it? And you’ll have your guards there. Besides, he might be more amenable in the fresh air. I think it’s worth a try.”
Parker sighed. He looked tired, she realized, the skin under his eyes shadowed and thin.
He rolled his eyes at her and a small smile crept in at the corner of his mouth. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Five minutes later Heather was being escorted down more anonymous corridors by a pair of burly men in uniform, Parker bringing up the rear. Eventually they passed through a series of gates, the clunk of locks and buzzing of various alarms ringing in her ears, until they stepped out into a bleak square courtyard. The ground was a mixture of dirt and gravel, and the stone walls were chipped and scratched here and there with graffiti—someone had painstakingly carved “FUCK PIGS” just to one side of the door. In the center of the shabby square was a series of large wooden planters, filled with some anonymous green bushes, and to the sides of those were two metal stands for cigarette butts, both of which were overflowing. The smell of stale tobacco and ash was powerful, but directly overhead was a bright square of blue sky and Heather found she was glad to see it.
“Heather. You’re a sight for sore eyes, lass.”
Standing by one of the walls was Michael Reave. He was wearing a dark blue long-sleeved jumper and black tracksuit bottoms. His hands were cuffed behind his back, but as he moved toward her, he was smiling easily enough. Outside, under real daylight, he looked somehow larger than he had earlier, more vital. In contrast to DI Parker, he didn’t look tired at all; he looked awake and calm, even younger than he had, and Heather felt a tremor of unease move through her. He might be caged up and constantly watched, but he was still a tall, powerfully built man, and she was sure that if he wanted to do her harm in this space—or any space—he could.
“This is where you have your breaks? Your exercise?”
Reave looked around, as if seeing it for the first time. He shrugged. “It’s one of the places. I take what I can get. And it’s a sunny day.” He smiled, and she realized this was the happiest she’d seen him. “And I have company for once.”
Taking care not to get too close, Heather took a few steps forward. Parker was just to her left, the two burly officers just behind her. “I wondered, Michael, if you could tell me some more about what my mum was like. When she was young. Now she’s gone, I feel like …” She made a point of looking down at her feet, then back up at him, the sun in her eyes. “I don’t know, I feel like I’ve missed a lot, you know?”
He nodded slowly, his face softening a touch. For a long moment, no one said anything. From somewhere behind them Heather could hear the harsh buzz as doors were unlocked and locked again, deeper in the building.
“Colleen,” said Reave eventually, “was kind. Softhearted. She was an educated woman. At least, she was to me. I liked to listen to her talk about stories, about what they meant to her.” He paused, and turned to look in the direction of the planter, although Heather didn’t think he was seeing it. “It didn’t matter to her that I hadn’t had no schooling to speak of. She never judged me for it. She would just share things. That was what your mum was like.”
Heather crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep a neutral expression on her face. It was proving difficult to match up this vision of her mother—forgiving, sweet natured, kind—with the woman she had spent so much of her teenage life having bitter arguments with. Talking about Colleen seemed to have warmed Reave up, and he took a step toward her. Heather felt cold fingers walk down her spine as the officers shuffled closer in response, clearly uncomfortable.
“Do you know the story of Briar Rose, lass?”
“Another one of the Grimm’s tales?’
“Aye. You’d know it, I reckon, as Sleeping Beauty.” He smiled, and this time it was without humor. “Probably the Disney version, all singing and kind woodland animals.”
“It’s the one with the three colorful fairies,” said Heather. “Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather.” To her
