Майкл Ридпат - The Predator

At five past three, there was a soft tap at her door. Somehow, she must have missed him cross the court. She forced herself to take her time to answer it.

He hadn’t changed much. Same height. Same eyes. Same smile.

‘Hi, Megan.’

Same voice.

‘Hi.’

‘Can I come in?’

‘Oh, sure. But I thought we’d go out somewhere, if that’s OK with you. Have a cup of tea?’

‘And scones, I hope.’

‘I’m sure that can be arranged.’

‘This is lovely,’ said Eric, walking around her sitting room.

‘Yeah. It’s nice. I was lucky to get it. Most graduate students are stuck outside college. And I’ve got a phone. That’s a real luxury here, apparently.’

‘I don’t believe it! You still have that poster?’

He pointed to a black and white photograph of a dead tree haunting the Arizona desert. It was advertising an Ansel Adams exhibition dated 1989.

‘I like that poster. Look, it’s framed now.’

‘So it is. Very nice. Well, shall we go?’

Megan took him to a tea shop she had been to once before. It was very quaint and English, and in the tourist season it would probably become a nightmare, but in March it was quiet and a good neutral ground.

‘So how have you been?’ Eric asked, after they had ordered tea and scones. ‘Really?’

‘Awful,’ said Megan. She had intended to be cool about the last few weeks, but now Eric was here, she found herself launching into a long description of everything that had happened. She talked about how she felt about Lenka’s death, about staying with Chris, about Chris’s suspicions, about his investigations, about Duncan and Ian and Marcus Lubron. And then she told him about how she had found the knife on her pillow that morning, and how scared she had been and how Chris had been threatened in New York.

Eric was a sympathetic listener, coaxing fears and reservations out of Megan that she had had difficulty articulating to herself, let alone Chris. It felt good to Megan to talk to him, to release some of the tension of the last couple of weeks.

‘It sounds like you’ve been seeing a lot of Chris,’ said Eric.

‘Yes,’ said Megan, smiling shyly.

‘He’s a nice guy,’ Eric said.

‘He is.’

Eric returned her smile. ‘That’s good.’

Megan could feel herself blushing. But she was pleased that she had been able to make clear to Eric that she had her own relationship. It seemed to clear the way for a question she had been eager to ask him. ‘How’s married life?’

He paused, and seemed to frown for just a second before answering. ‘Oh, good, good,’ he said. ‘It’s been seven years now.’

‘So it has. Do you have kids?’

‘One. A little boy. Wilson. He’s two. He’s great.’

‘I’m sure you make a good father.’

Eric sighed and shook his head. ‘I’m never there. Or not there nearly as much as I’d like. Work is crazy. I spend half my life on a plane. More than half my life.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s my own choice,’ said Eric. ‘You know what I’m like. Driven.’

Megan smiled. ‘I remember.’

‘It puts a strain on me and Cassie, though,’ said Eric. ‘And I do regret that. But you just can’t do my kind of job at half speed.’

‘Have you dipped your toe into the world of politics?’

‘A bit. Help with fund raising. A bit of schmoozing. Some quiet advice to policy wonks on telecoms legislation.’

‘But you haven’t made your big move yet?’

Eric smiled. ‘Not yet.’

‘Somehow I doubt you’ve been converted to the Democrats since I last saw you.’

Eric shook his head. ‘Sorry. But I’d put myself kind of centre-right, if that helps.’

‘Not much,’ said Megan. ‘I don’t think we were ever destined to have the same political views.’

‘I guess not,’ said Eric. He poured out the last of the tea. ‘So what are you and Chris going to do about Lenka?’

‘I don’t know. After what happened today, I think we might just give up. But it makes me so angry. Whoever killed Lenka deserves to be caught. I’m pretty sure Ian had something to do with it. Have you seen him recently?’

‘No,’ said Eric. ‘I bump into him sometimes when I’m in the London office. He still works at Bloomfield Weiss. But we’re not really friends any more.’

‘What do you think?’ Megan asked. ‘I’ve told you everything we’ve found out so far. You’re a smart guy. What do you think we should do?’

Eric didn’t answer at first. His blue eyes held hers. ‘I think you should be very careful, Megan,’ he said softly.

Something melted inside Megan. She felt herself begin to blush. Close to panic, she turned and waved at the waitress.

‘We should get the check.’

Chris took the steps up Megan’s staircase two at a time. He was eager to see her. All day he had been torn between his desire to take a personal risk to find Lenka’s killer, and his fear of putting Megan in danger. His fear for Megan had won. He didn’t want to be responsible for any more harm coming to her.

He knocked, and she opened the door. He pulled her into his arms, and she clung to him. He stroked her hair.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said.

She broke away. ‘It’s not your fault. You’re not the psycho who broke in here.’

‘Yes, but I should have told you about what happened in New York.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Megan. ‘Let’s just make sure we tell each other about that kind of thing in future, OK?’

‘OK. Did you go to the library?’

‘I did. I couldn’t stay here, and I thought it’d help me forget about the knife. Besides, I do have a lot to do.’

‘Did it work?’

‘Not really. I couldn’t concentrate.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘Look,’ said Megan. ‘Do you mind if we go out? I don’t want to hang around here.’

They went to a Café Rouge. Chris had steak frites, and Megan a goat’s cheese salad. They polished off a bottle of red wine, and ordered another.

Megan seemed distracted. She didn’t finish her food, and for the first time in their relationship, Chris found it difficult to make conversation. He would start a topic, and Megan would quickly let it trail off. Chris told her about his drink with Duncan, and how angry Duncan had been at the discovery that it was Ian who had probably killed Alex, and Lenka as well. But now Chris and Megan had decided to ease off their investigations, her enthusiasm for the subject seemed to have waned.

Chris wasn’t surprised that a shock such as Megan had had would produce an unpredictable reaction, but he was nevertheless disappointed in the form it had taken. He had imagined himself comforting a distraught Megan. A distant one was not what he had expected.

At the end of the meal, after a particularly long silence, Chris spoke. ‘Are you angry with me, Megan?’

‘No,’ she answered simply.

‘Because I’d understand if you were.’

She smiled, for almost the first time that evening, and put her hand on his. ‘It’s not that Chris. Don’t worry. It’s just...’

‘You need to get over last night?’

Megan glanced at him nervously. ‘Yes. That’s it. I just feel all over the place.’

‘I can imagine. You must feel dreadful.’

‘I do. Look, can we go?’

‘Of course.’ Chris tried to pay the bill, but she wouldn’t let him. Chris didn’t want to push it, and so they split it. They walked back to her college in silence. As they reached the college gate, she stopped.

‘Chris, I’m sorry to ask you this, but do you think you could leave me alone tonight?’

‘I’ll do no such thing,’ said Chris. ‘After what happened last night, I’m staying with you. You shouldn’t be by yourself.’