Blind Fury (33 page)

“Did Jack survive?”

“Yes, although he had terrible injuries and was in the hospital for months.”

“When did it happen?”

“Four or more years ago. We had this photograph in a frame on the mantelpiece, but Ken told me to put it away because he couldn’t stand to look at it.”

Roy came in at that point and asked if Anna would like a sherry. She said that she’d maybe have one later, but if they didn’t mind, she’d like to change for dinner. When she’d left the room, Brenda held up the photograph to replace it in the drawer.

“She found this picture of poor Jack and his dog.”

“Sad business. Do you want a sherry?”

“No, love. I’ll get the vegetables prepared, and then I might go up and have a little rest.”

“I’ll set the table, shall I?”

“Already done. You sit and watch some TV.”

Anna’s overnight bag had been placed in the same room she had slept in before. She lay down and closed her eyes, chastising herself. Just as she had suspicious about finding the blue blanket at Ken’s flat, she now felt the same way about the photograph. It was horrible that her work could encroach on her like this. One moment she was utterly relaxed and happy, and the next, she had turned back into Detective Inspector Travis. Deeply troubled, she fell asleep and woke only as Brenda gently shook her a few hours later. Anna sat up and immediately apologized.

“Don’t worry, love. I’ve had a little sleep as well, but Ken’s just called, and he’s on his way here.”

“What time is it?”

“Nine-thirty, and you must be hungry. We usually eat a lot earlier, and Roy’s hovering around the kitchen like a starving man.”

“I’ll be right down.”

Anna swiftly washed her face and put some fresh makeup on. Downstairs, the table was set, and there were her flowers in the center and champagne glasses with a bottle of Moët in an ice bucket with a big pink bow. Anna noticed a number of happy-anniversary cards on a side table as she heard the rumble of Ken’s motorbike.

She hurried into the hall as he walked in, opening his arms and swinging her up to kiss her.

“You two come and sit down,” Brenda called out fussily. “Your dad’s ready to carve.”

“Give me two minutes to wash up, Mum. Start serving, I won’t be a tick.”

Ken had taken a quick shower and changed from his work clothes into a white T-shirt and jeans. Anna noticed that he broke his usual teetotal habits to take a glass of champagne to toast his parents, and it was sweet the way his father had a few glasses too many, as did Brenda. Yet again it felt like she was truly welcome, and Brenda had cooked up a storm serving roast lamb, roast potatoes with gravy, carrots, and green beans. She was rosy-cheeked and giggly as she brought in the anniversary cake, making sure everyone knew that Anna had made the iced roses. Ken gave a funny formal speech, praising his parents’ longevity and happy marriage, hoping that he’d be lucky enough to find someone like Brenda one day. He kissed his mother and gave his father a hug and said that as it was a special night, he would do the washing up.

“I’ll be your assistant,” Anna said, piling up the dishes, and together they insisted that Brenda and Roy go and put their feet up.

Ken was fast at stacking the dishwasher, while Anna washed the fragile champagne glasses by hand. He washed the pans and the meat dish beside her and then left them to dry. After that, he did a quick wipe around all of the surfaces before tossing the cloth into the sink and saying they could call it quits.

“Your mum has put my overnight bag into the room I used last time I stayed.”

He grinned. “She’s very diplomatic, but you are sleeping with me, and it’s a quick good-night to those two, who’ll stay up for hours watching old movies, and then . . .” He took her in his arms, kissing her passionately. “Has it been a tedious day for you?” he asked, letting her go.

“Far from it. I love being with your parents, and I also had a good sleep this afternoon.”

“All right for some. It’s been a real shit of a day for me, but I don’t want to talk about it, I just want you beside me.”

Ken’s room was not what she had expected. There was a rowing machine and a set of weights, but little else of a personal nature.

“When I went off to university, they redecorated, and there were foster kids using it; when they all moved out, I sort of moved back in, but I just keep some clothes and books here. I don’t want them to think I’m moving back on a permanent basis. Lizzie and the kids use this room as well when they stay. So don’t think I’m a cross-dresser when you find frocks in the wardrobe.”

“You also keep your flat pretty unlived in.”

“Ah, you noticed. Reason is, I am saving, because when I move to London to work at this special unit, I want to buy a place of my own. Until then I live like a monk.” He laughed. “Well, that’s not quite true. Mum still insists on doing my washing and ironing—I think it makes her feel needed.”

“I’ve heard some excuses in my time . . .”

He grinned and was about to take her in his arms when she asked about Jack. He moved away from her.

“I found his photograph,” she said, “the two of you together with his German shepherd.”

“Did Mum give it to you?”

“No. I was putting away a photo album, and it was in the drawer. I did ask her about it, though.”

“Jack was the best friend I ever had. He worked at the prison. You know about the crash?”

“Yes.”

“If it hadn’t been for Rex, he’d have taken the full impact. Somehow Rex got out of the cage to shield him. Bloody juggernaut jackknifed across the motorway. When they found him, the dog was crushed against the steering wheel, and Jack had been pushed sideways, head cracked open on the passenger-side window.”

“But he survived?”

“Yeah. He was concussed for over a week. When he came round, he kept on asking about Rex—my God, he loved that dog. None of us could fathom exactly how it had happened, but it looked as if he had a sixth sense and hurled himself at Jack to protect him. They had to bloody peel his body off him . . .”

Ken turned away, and she put out her hand to comfort him, saying, “But he saved him.”

“Right, but in many ways I wish he hadn’t. He still talks about Rex, still sometimes asks about him.”

“But it was four years ago.”

“Yeah, but Jack doesn’t understand, because he’s got the mind of a ten-year-old and is now in a home—will be for the rest of his life.” Ken lay back on the pillows with tears in his eyes. Anna had never been with a man who showed such open emotion. He was close to crying, and she wished she’d never brought it up.

“Just before the accident, we’d been out to celebrate; he’d gotten this new job in London working for a top security firm. He and his girlfriend were about to move—well, she did move; he’d been worried that he couldn’t get permission to take Rex with him. Dog handlers often have to wait for the animals to retire before they can ask to keep them as a pet.”

Anna broke down in tears, and Ken looked at her, surprised. “What are you crying for?”

“Because of what happened in my head. I couldn’t stop it, and now I feel disgusted, ashamed, because of what I thought.”

“And what did you think?”

Anna sniffed and then reached for a tissue from the bedside table. She explained to Ken about the coincidence, the blue blanket and the dog hairs, but before she could finish, he had thrown the duvet aside and gotten up.

“Wait, just let me get this straight—because of evidence, forensic or whatever it was—you made a connection between me, the friggin’ dog, and a murder victim. Is that right? Am I right?”

“It just happened; I couldn’t help it.”

“You couldn’t help it?”

“I’m sorry.”

He stood at the end of the bed wearing just his boxer shorts and staring at her in disbelief. He then leaned forward, dragging the duvet away from her. She was naked.

“Go into the other bedroom,” he hissed. “I don’t want you here with me. Go on—get out. Get out!”

“No, I won’t.”

He reached forward and gripped her arm so tightly it hurt, but no matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t release herself. He dragged her to the door.

“Don’t do this, please, Ken.”

He pushed her away from him and picked up her nightdress.

“Put this on and get out.”

“No, I won’t.”

He glared at her as she pulled on her nightdress. “Okay, stay and do what you like, but I’m out of here.”

He picked up his jeans from the floor and started to get dressed. She went to him, wanting to put her arms around him, but he wouldn’t let her near him. She sat on the bed as he dragged on his T-shirt, zipping up the fly on his jeans.

“You know, I really believed that we had something special, and you come here, sit with my parents—for what? Because you think that I have some connection with this sick case you are fucking working on.”

“It isn’t like that.”

“It isn’t?”

“No, but I can’t help that it’s always in the back of my mind and—”

“You keep me out of your mind from now on.”

It was awful. He grabbed his bike boots and walked out, slamming the door. She ran after him, and Brenda came out onto the landing.

“What’s happened?”

Ken was by the front door with his leather jacket and bike helmet. “Go back to bed, Mum. It’s nothing. I have to leave.”

“Please don’t go,” Anna said, heading after him down the stairs, but he’d already opened the door. She held on to it, still trying to persuade him not to leave, but he roughly pushed her away and slammed the door shut.

Brenda came out of her room again as Anna began sobbing. Brenda knew her son had gone because she couldn’t help but hear his bike start up and roar off.

“Whatever’s happened between you?” She was midway down the stairs.

“Please just leave me alone—it was all my fault.”

Roy appeared above them on the landing. Brenda looked up and told him that Ken had left.

“I know that, I could hear his bike. What’s been going on?”

Anna sat on the stairs, sobbing. Neither Brenda nor Roy seemed to know what to do, and then they looked shocked as Anna sprang to her feet.

“I’m going after him.”

“Don’t you think you should calm down, love?” Roy said.

Anna ran past them to her room, not wanting to talk, just desperate to leave and follow Ken. They were still on the landing, full of concern, when she came out.

“It was all my fault, but it’ll be all right.”

Roy was moved. “You’re very upset. I don’t think you should drive.”

“I’ll be all right, really, and I’m sorry this had to happen. He’s gone without his uniform, and I have to see him.”

Brenda walked back down the stairs with her. “Don’t worry about his uniform. He’s got a spare in his flat—but I’m worried about you.”

Anna put her arms around Brenda and hugged her tightly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll write to you.”

They both watched her drive off too fast, and Roy closed the front door.

“What on earth do you think sparked that off?” he asked as he put his arm around his wife.

“I don’t know. They seemed so happy together, but you know Ken. How many girls has he split up from? He never seems able to keep one for more than a few months.”

“I thought this one was different, but then what do we know?”

Anna parked beside Ken’s motorbike. She’d driven erratically, veering between crying and angrily shouting at herself, but she managed to calm down enough to keep within the speed limit. All she cared about was making up with him.

She hurried into the block of flats and ran up the stairs. She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. She kept on ringing it, but he didn’t open the door. Next she banged on the door with the flat of her hand.

“I know you are in there, Ken, and I am not leaving until you talk to me. KEN, OPEN THE DOOR!”

But he didn’t. So she kept her hand on the doorbell for what seemed like an age before slumping down in the doorway. Next she took out her mobile phone and rang his, but he didn’t pick up. She kept on calling him until it was switched off. She got up again and hit the door, then kicked it.

“Open the door, Ken.”

A neighbor looked out. He saw her standing there and asked if she was all right. She apologized and said she was just waiting for Ken to let her in.

“I hope he does soon, darlin’, as you’re waking up the whole block.”

She went back and sat on the stairs, beginning to think that he was not going to give in. She still had her mobile phone in her hand, and after a while she texted a message to Mike Lewis. She was so tense and angry that it took some time. It was even hard to believe it herself as she left the text that the team should check into prison officers and security guards who were dog handlers, and to go as far back as when Cameron Welsh was under arrest and on trial.

That done, she sat huddled on the stairs, and when she put her phone away, there by Ken’s photo was the envelope with her photograph that she’d forgotten to send to him. She had to have been sitting there for fifteen minutes before Ken finally opened his front door. She looked up at him.

“You don’t give up easily, do you?” he said.

“I won’t go away until we’ve talked. Please let me come in.”

He stepped back into the flat, and she picked up her bag and followed him. He was sitting on the end of his bed, still in his jeans but barefoot. She felt like a schoolgirl, standing in the open doorway. She passed him the envelope. “I meant to post this to you.”

He didn’t take it, so she threw it on the bed. He opened it and looked at the picture of her turning somersaults.

“Very nice,” he said, tossing it aside.

She didn’t know where to begin, and he didn’t make it easy, looking at his watch. “I have to be on duty tomorrow, so why don’t you say what you have to say so I can get some sleep.”

“I don’t know where to begin.”

“Try starting with what it feels like to think you know a woman, trust her, fall in love with her, and then find out she thinks you’re a murder suspect. You’ve brought her into your family, and all the time she was fucking checking out if . . .” He shook his head. “How could you be with me and even contemplate that I could not only be lying to you, but using you because I was some warped killer.”