When I Wasn't Watching (9 page)

‘Honestly,' she went on, voicing thoughts she had never spoken aloud before, if she would even have admitted them to herself, ‘if I hadn't been pregnant with Jack, I think we would have split up a lot sooner. I was a project for Ethan; just someone else to save. Young, a council estate single mother, and he was handsome and wealthy and, you know,
such a catch
.' She rolled her eyes at the last and Matt laughed again.

‘He sounds a lot like my ex, Carla. She definitely thought I was beneath her.'

‘Was it recent?' she asked, trying to sound sympathetic. Matt looked shamefaced.

‘It was only a few days ago actually. But,' he added with haste when Lucy looked shocked, ‘it's been coming for a long time. She's found someone else.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘I'm not.' He grinned at her and Lucy had to return the smile as she thought back to that first date with Ethan, and how the difference between that evening and this was not only was she attracted to Matt, but she actually
liked
him too. A genuine, I-love-being-in-your-company feeling she had never associated with any man she had had a romantic interest in.

Then she remembered she hadn't just engineered this date purely for romantic reasons but for rather different ones, albeit just as personal, if not more so.

The question she wanted to ask was on her lips as their food arrived and prevented her from blurting it out. Nevertheless Matt seemed to sense her abrupt change in mood and sat back a little, turning his attention to his food.

‘I hope you don't think I'm being too forward, asking you here like this,' he began, and Lucy realised he had taken her change in demeanour to be a wariness of him and his intentions. ‘I know it's not exactly usual, with me working your son's case. But when you opened the door and I saw you were Ricky's mum, well, it seemed like more than chance.'

He blushed a little under his tan, as if his confession had embarrassed him, but Lucy barely heard it, seeing her chance at his mention of his involvement with Jack's killing.

‘Not at all; I'm enjoying myself.' Which was certainly true; rather too much in fact, given that she had nearly forgotten her primary reason for being here. ‘And I'm glad we've met again. I'm flattered you remembered me; I imagine you deal with similar cases all the time now.'

‘Not quite like that, thank God,' he said without thinking then looked mortified. ‘I didn't mean that how it must have sounded.'

She waved aside his apology.

‘It must have angered you too, knowing they were letting him out so early.'

A shadow crossed Matt's face and when he spoke his voice was low and controlled, hiding the depth of his feelings so as not to upset her, she guessed.

‘I was raging. Made me question why I even bother doing what I do. But unfortunately I don't get to make those decisions.'

‘I wondered about that,' Lucy said with a deliberate nonchalance, winding a piece of spaghetti around her fork with deliberate precision, ‘about who is in charge of these things, you know? I mean, it has to be a big secret, his new identity, but surely plenty of people involved in the case must know where he is, or how would they monitor him?'

Matt snorted in blatant derision.

‘We're the last people that would get told. It's mostly the do-gooder types that know these things. The Parole Board, his support worker, that type of thing. The usual procedure in these cases is to release him to a halfway house at least for the first few days while everything is being finalised. They would know, and he'll be on licence for a long time of course.'

‘But surely the local police would have to be informed in whatever area he's placed in? I'm assuming they would have got him as far away from the Midlands as possible?'

‘Not necessarily. All local known criminals will be on the database, but not offenders with new identities. Only a select few will be privy to his whereabouts. It will only get flagged up if he re-offends – by which time it will of course be too late.'

Lucy shook her head, feeling sick. ‘So he wouldn't have been relocated as far away as possible?'

‘Again, not necessarily. Oh he wouldn't be placed anywhere near his old haunts, and he will certainly be out of Coventry itself, but it's not unheard of for offenders of that nature to be relocated within the county they know. So they don't have too many “resettlement issues”.'

His voice was scathing. Lucy's heart pounded in her chest at the thought that Terry Prince could be just a few dozen miles away while she sat here, getting on with the half-life his actions had left her with. She felt deflated all of a sudden and even foolish, sitting here pumping Matt for information he didn't even have, information she so desperately craved, but what could she even do with it if she had it? Lucy hadn't really thought beyond the desperate need to know where her son's killer was.

Feeling nauseous and cold Lucy put her cutlery down and sighed.

‘I'm sorry, Matt, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.'

Matt looked pained.

‘I'm sorry, I'm being insensitive talking about it.'

He looked so dismayed at himself Lucy touched his hand across the table to reassure him.

‘No, no, I asked didn't I? It's silly to pretend it's not on both of our minds. I just think maybe I wasn't ready. For this.' She waved the hand that had just brushed against his in a vague motion. Matt rearranged his features into sympathetic acceptance, but Lucy could sense his disappointment, even a touch of confusion. He had every right to be confused, considering that she had given him her number, invited him to call and been so eager for the date. She felt as if she were being mercenary, losing interest when she discovered he didn't have the information she needed, but in truth it wasn't even that. She had, for a few brief moments, almost forgotten about the situation bringing them together and felt like any other young woman, on a date and thoroughly enjoying herself, if a little nervous about the prospect of a liaison after so long.

Now she felt numb and drained and perhaps faintly guilty, wanting only to go home and retire under the covers rather than try and make sense of her emotions. She was so up and down this week that she wondered if the news of Prince's release hadn't finally unhinged her. She thought of Ricky, undergoing tests because of his ‘delusions' and shuddered. Had he inherited that from her, some kind of inherent trait that had yet to manifest itself?

‘I'm sorry,' she apologised in turn, ‘it's not you.'

Matt grinned, but it was a half-hearted effort.

‘It's not you, it's me? It's all right, Lucy, I understand. But I'm here as a friend, even if you're not ready for anything else. To be honest, I'm not sure I am either. I just like you, you know? Even though I probably shouldn't, given the circumstances.'

They held each other's gaze for a long moment, the sort of silence in which so much needs to be said that words are insufficient to articulate it. It was Lucy who dropped her eyes first and Matt seemed to take that as some kind of cue, signalling for the waitress to bring the bill. The girl looked askance at Lucy, she thought, or maybe she was just being paranoid. When the girl then beamed at Matt, her smile lingering longer than was strictly professional she decided she wasn't being paranoid at all, and was gratified when Matt again seemed to take no notice whatsoever. She could hardly have begrudged him at least a flirtatious smile given that Lucy was more or less blowing him out, but he seemed genuinely oblivious to the girl's interest. Again, Lucy couldn't help thinking that Ethan's reaction would have been very different indeed.

Matt drove her home in the midst of a silence markedly more uncomfortable than during the ride there, pulling up outside her front door without attempting to turn off the engine.

‘Would you like to come in?'

‘It's okay, I ought to get back. I'm at the station early tomorrow.' His voice and manner were guarded and he sat unnaturally still. Trying to reassure her that he wasn't going to attempt to kiss her, no doubt. Or would a man like Matt even do kissing in the car on first dates? She was woefully out of practice and now, looking at his strong profile in the half-light, beginning to regret the wave of despondency that had made her want to leave the restaurant early.

‘Okay, well, call me tomorrow?'

‘Sure, I'd love to.' He seemed to relax a little and Lucy leaned over to his kiss his cheek. Her lips brushed the rough skin of his jaw, covered in a light stubble, and she caught the odour of a spicy aftershave she thought she recognised. She paused, her lips still less than a centimetre away from his skin, but he didn't turn his head to her, only swallowed visibly, so that she could see the muscles of his throat working against his thick neck.

‘Matt,' she said, and never did know how she would have continued the sentence because he turned and had his hands in her hair and his lips on hers, pushing hers apart like a man starving, in one swift moment.

Her response to him was equally swift. Aroused by the forcefulness, the confidence, of his overture towards her Lucy went soft and liquid in his arms, moaning gently into his mouth as he explored hers with his own as if claiming her. His hand fisted in her hair, tugging at it as he shifted position. Her scalp tingled with the pressure and Lucy was surprised to find that this too aroused her, this hungry roughness, so different from any other man's touch she had known. She felt a slow ache beginning in her breasts, her belly, her groin, and was on the verge of repeating her invitation, less innocently this time, when Matt pulled away, his breath ragged.

‘I got carried away, I shouldn't have.'

‘It's fine,' she tried to reassure him, even leaning towards him a little to indicate that it was more than fine to continue, but Matt carried on as if she hadn't spoken.

‘You're a beautiful woman, Lucy, but this isn't right. I shouldn't be trying it on with you, not with what you're going through.'

Lucy sat back, feeling oddly rejected even though she could hardly blame him for thinking twice after she had been blowing hot and cold with him all evening.

‘Go on in,' he said in a soft voice but deliberately not looking at her. ‘I'll call you tomorrow.'

‘Really?' Lucy winced at the sound of her voice, desperately pathetic, but Matt did look at her then, his eyes full of concern.

‘Of course. I meant what I said – about being a friend.'

‘Good, I mean, thanks.'

She got out of the car, fumbling for her keys, turning her face away from the headlights as tears stung her eyes once again. God, but she was a mess. No wonder he had pulled away from her.

The house seemed eerily empty when she walked in, with the air of a home that hadn't been lived in for a while, rather than simply left for a few hours.

Or a place where someone had died.

Shaking her head to clear it of such morbid thoughts Lucy went straight up to bed, kicking off her shoes and jeans and lying on top of the covers. She wished Ricky was here, had a sudden pang at his absence. He should be here, not fobbed off to her mother's so that she could go to restaurants with handsome policemen.

She was no nearer to finding out the whereabouts of her son's killer, could not even organise her thoughts to clarify why indeed she was so desperate to uncover it, and now she had something else to ponder. The sudden leaping of desire she had experienced when Matt had kissed her, strong enough to chase away all her concerns, all her tensions, and leave her both boneless and breathless in his arms.

The boy decided that the next time he saw the man he would talk to him and maybe ask him if he wanted to play in his garden. Maybe then he wouldn't look so sad. He hated it when people looked sad. It would be nice to have someone to play with when he was in the garden, because sometimes it got boring on his own, especially when Mummy was doing Tidy Up and shooed him away when he tried to get her to come and push him on the swing.

Maybe if he asked, the man would push him, and then when Mummy saw the man playing she would know he was nice, and would want to talk to him too.

Yes, next time he saw him, he was going to say hello.

He would stay by the window though. Right where Mummy could see him.

Chapter Six
Sunday

‘So did you see it?'

Mitzi trailed her fingers across Ricky's belly, failing to notice that he flinched as she did so. Not because he didn't like her inexperienced yet eager touch – far from it – but because he was all too aware of his underdeveloped body. He just couldn't seem to achieve a six-pack of abdominals like Tyler, no matter how many crunches he did each evening with his toes hooked under the gap beneath the sofa.

Ricky flinched again at her words, closing his eyes briefly to hide his irritation. Mitzi's insistence on trying to coax him to talk about the release of his brother's killer was starting to seriously annoy him; enough that he was beginning to regret coming back again to the abandoned building with her. This time it was just the two of them, Tyler having found more interesting haunts. He had been hoping to kiss her again, maybe even get a hand inside her bra to feel the small but perfectly formed breasts that pushed tantalisingly against the confines of her vest. Not pour his heart out about his dead brother.

It was bad enough at home. Not that his mother was talking about it, not really, but she flitted around the house with her over-bright eyes and tension in every line of her body, jumping every time the phone rang. The press attention had died down now that most of the reporters in the City Centre had wandered off to their next cause, but there were still the phone calls from the odd ‘concerned citizen'. Even though their number was supposed to be ex-directory, which made you wonder.

‘I said, did you see it?' Mitzi asked again, nudging him with her elbow. Ricky sighed.