Quintin Jardine - Lethal Intent

'It sounds like the thriller of the year; come on, you made all that up.'

He looked at her and saw that she was frightened. 'No, I didn't; my imagination isn't that good. Oh, yes, the man I killed? It was Adam.'

The colour fled from her face; she had known Arrow. 'It's not true,' she murmured. 'Tell me it's not.'

'I'd love to. I'd love to wake up and find that it never happened. But it did.'

She sank back into the couch, her hands pressed to her cheeks. 'And the morning after I come home to tell you that I'm leaving you. God, Bob, what lousy timing. I'm so sorry. I can't go now, not when you're trying to deal with this.'

He gave a huge weary sigh. 'Who would your staying help, Sarah? Not me. What are you going to do? Take me to bed and hug me till all the monsters go away? You can try, but they won't. I've been dodging the truth about you and me for long enough. I've been hiding behind you for years, tying you to me, watching you become sadder and less of a person as you took second, probably even third place in my life. If you'd come back and said, "Let's try to make it work," I'd have said, "No." So let's do what we know to be right, and let's do it now. I'll move out. I'll find somewhere in Edinburgh.'

'With your politician friend?'

'Maybe, but not straight away, and maybe never. I'm going to need a lot of breathing space for a while. Besides, Aileen's just like me: she's married to her job as well.'

'You sound just right for each other; I hope it works.' She pursed her lips. 'But listen, I don't want you to move out. I've been doing a lot of thinking of my own, and I've found my truths as well. Somewhere along the line, Bob… I don't know when exactly; maybe it was when my parents died, but maybe even before then… I handed control of my life to you.'

'I've never tried to control you,' he protested.

'I'm not saying you did, honey, but I let you nonetheless. Well, that's over: as of now I'm in charge of my own destiny again. Sarah Grace is coming out of hiding and back into the world, but with a whole new agenda, not like she was before.'

She looked at him, and he could see in her eyes a determination which, he admitted to himself, had been absent for a while. 'For a start, I've had enough of pathology,' she declared. 'Actually, I decided that a while back. Any people I cut up in future will be alive at the time, and hopefully afterwards. Where will that be? Bob, I'm an American, and I'm a doctor, so I'm going home, and back to work. All my property in Buffalo, and the up-state cabin, is on the market and it'll all sell fast. I've spent a lot of time in New York City and I still have friends there. So I'm going to buy an apartment in Manhattan, and I'm going to practise real medicine again. But I won't look after people who can afford me: I'll be a doctor for those who can't.'

He reached out and touched her cheek. 'Well, good for you, Doc'

'You don't think I'm just being idealistic?'

'The world could use a few more of us idealists. Your parents have left you wealthy. What you're proposing will let a lot of people benefit from it. I only have one problem with your plan. I don't think I want my children brought up in Manhattan.'

She paused, unsmiling, letting his final sentence hang in the air, gathering its own tension around it.

And then she grinned, dispelling it in an instant. 'I knew you'd say that,' she told him, 'and I admit that, for a while, it was a hurdle I couldn't clear. I love my kids, Bob, just as much as you do, and I don't want to be parted from them. But neither do I want them to be caught in the middle of a great adversarial battle between you and me… one which I might not win… so I'm prepared to negotiate. I recognise that fathers have rights too and, damn it, obligations as well. I made you a promise in Florida: I said that, whatever happened between us, the children would be educated as we've planned. Sure, that was before I'd had a chance to think things through, but now that I have, I'm prepared to stick to it. You did a pretty good job with Alex; I reckon you can handle this lot too, for half the year at least.

'That doesn't mean I'll give up all legal rights,' she said quickly, 'but I could live with joint custody, on the basis that they stay with you during the school term, and that they spend the bulk of their holidays with me. I'll fly them and the nanny over to New York, or to whatever resort we go to. Plus, I'll pay Trish's salary all year round, because I've got a lot more money than you, and I'll contribute half of their school fees. Agreed?'

He closed his eyes; it felt like closing a book. 'Agreed.'

'Good, but there are a raft of conditions.'

'Okay.'

'One, I have visiting rights here, whenever I choose.'

'Okay.'

'Two, until we're divorced, you don't move anyone else in here, at least not while the kids are around.'

'Agreed.'

'Three, when they finish school, they get to decide where they want to go to college, the US or Britain, without pressure from either of us.'

'Agreed.'

'Four, if we did a conventional property split, it would be a hell of a lot better for you than for me, so I propose that we each take away what we brought in: you keep this place and its mortgage, plus your Spanish property, and I keep my parents' entire estate, from which ultimately the kids will benefit.'

'Agreed.'

'Five, we'll always be friends.'

Bob opened his eyes again, and grinned. 'Yes, that too.'

'And six, that you will never ever put your job above the interests of our children.'

'That's a solemn promise.'

She touched his arm. 'I could argue that you broke it last night. Did you have to risk your life?'

'You mean that I should have risked someone else's instead? Do you want me to raise the boys to think like that? Of course you don't. Anyway, I could argue that the maintenance of national security is in their interests.'

'I suppose you're right. What I'm really saying, Bob, is that you're at an age and stage when you don't have to lead every charge.'

'Hopefully, there won't be any more.'

She laughed. 'Are you kidding?'

'Probably, but let me tell you this. I will do everything in my power to discourage our three from following in my footsteps. I want Mark to be an actuary or a maths professor, I want the Jazzer to be a professional golfer, and I want Seonaid to be a doctor like her mum. I will never countersign an application by any one of them to become a police officer.'

'Thanks for that,' said Sarah. 'The trouble is that I've always encouraged them to try to grow up just like their dad, and I don't plan ever to change that.'

'Poor confused wee sods!'

'Maybe.' She dug him in the ribs. 'Hey, pal, know what?'

'Tell me, why don't you?'

'All of a sudden I feel less lonely than I have in years.'

Rod Greatorix had called in sick. A wicked cold had been brewing over the weekend, and when he had wakened to find every major joint in his body aching, he had realised that it had turned to flu.

His wife had put up a show of reluctance to give him the phone when Martin had called him, but eventually they had spoken and he had agreed that the DCC and another officer could visit.

He was sitting in a high-backed chair when they were shown into his study, with a sweater over his pyjamas, and wrapped in a heavy dressing-gown. His eyes were rheumy and his nose shone like a red traffic-light. 'Don't get too close,' he warned, but the two callers needed no telling.

'Will it be family flowers only?' Martin asked.

'Very funny,' the invalid grunted. 'Have you just come here to take the piss?'

'No, honest we haven't. Rod, this is DI Stevie Steele, from Edinburgh; he's been working on an investigation that's under wraps for now but likely to go public soon. Before that happens, we've got some questions that need answering, and you might just be the man who can.'