Bolton, J. - Now You See Me

If I left now, I could still get the Tube home.

‘Where did you disappear to Friday night?’

I turned round and looked up. The fair-haired man I remembered from my last visit was casually dressed for Sunday evening in jeans and a white, short-sleeved button-down. A college sweatshirt was around his shoulders. The casual style suited him more than the business suit he’d been wearing early Saturday morning. I glanced down. His shoes looked expensive.

‘You ran like the Furies were after you,’ he continued when I didn’t reply. He was better looking than I remembered and a bit older. No wedding ring on his left hand. He was over thirty-five, he’d probably have his own place.

‘I’d left the gas on,’ I said.

He smiled. ‘Was there an explosion?’

I smiled too. ‘Not yet.’

I left his house just after two, pleading an early start at work. He got up with me, offering to get me a cab. I told him I’d called someone already while he’d been dozing. He seemed almost reluctant to let me walk out of the door.

Uncomplicated, unconditional sex with a beautiful stranger. Wasn’t that most men’s fantasy? It was what I offered and I was never surprised by how easy it was to get a man I’d barely met to invite me to his home. What did surprise me was the number who wanted to see me again. I usually left my number, with a couple of the digits in the wrong order. Maybe on the other side of London a happily married mother of four was getting all my booty calls.

When the front door closed and his footsteps faded away down the hall, I stood for a few seconds on the top step, breathing in the cool night air, waiting for my ride home.

My early encounters with men and sex were abusive. Nothing so very unusual in that, but I realized some years ago that women with my history have a choice. All too often they become wary, fearful of intimacy of any sort, and then clingy and dependent if a decent man does come along. Some avoid men altogether, taking matters into their own hands, if you get my drift. Then there are those who take control.

The minicab pulled up after two minutes. The same driver has been taking me home in the small hours for a couple of years now. He greets me like an old friend.

Oh, I know what I do comes with a built-in risk, I’m not stupid, but I’ve become a pretty good judge of man-flesh over the years. On the rare occasions I get it wrong, I can look after myself. Keeping yourself fit, being able to handle difficult physical situations, is part and parcel of being a young police officer. If all else fails, which it hasn’t yet, I plan to show the bugger my warrant card and threaten him with a night at the local nick.

All things considered, I’m not remotely scared of a bit of male aggression. I have more than enough of my own to counter it.

Back at my flat, I climbed out of the cab, paid the driver and wished him goodnight. Finally, I was feeling genuinely tired. Like I might actually sleep at last. I made my way down the steps.

I was still wearing high-heeled shoes, so when the hand grabbed the back of my hair I was thrown completely off balance. There was nothing to brace myself against, no way to fight back, as I was pulled down the last two steps and into the shadow beneath. A weight I hadn’t a hope of resisting pushed me forward until my face was up against the wood of my front door. I felt something cold and hard press against my neck and knew there was a knife at my throat.

‘This is how easy it is,’ said a voice in my ear. ‘This is the last thing Geraldine felt.’

22

WITHOUT WARNING, THE WEIGHT PUSHING AGAINST ME moved away. I almost fell but managed to grab hold of the door-frame. Taking a deep breath, I turned round slowly.

Mark Joesbury was shaking his head at me, like I was something forced into his way but far beneath his notice. In his right hand he held his car keys. It had been a key, not a knife, at my throat.

‘Are you out of your fucking mind?’ he said, in a voice that would have carried easily up to the street.

‘How dare you touch me?’ I spat back at him. ‘I’ll have you up on a charge for this—’

‘Oh, you’re really going to tell Tulloch you were out shagging your way around north London when she specifically told you to come home, lock your doors and go to bed?’

Any second now, he’d wake the people in the upstairs flats.

‘Why the hell are you following me, you sad, pathetic—’

‘There is a man out there who gets off on slicing women open.’ Joesbury took a step closer, lowered his voice just a fraction. ‘You narrowly missed a close encounter with him on Friday and, just in case this hasn’t sunk in yet, he knows your name and probably where you live.’

‘That does not give you the right—’

‘Shut up,’ he went on. ‘Most women in your position would be scared shitless. How come you’re not?’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea …’ Any second now I’d wake the people upstairs.

Joesbury was so close I could feel his breath on my face. ‘This is your last chance to tell me voluntarily, Flint,’ he said. He wasn’t shouting any more, just quietly furious. ‘If you know anything about Friday night’s stabbing that you haven’t already owned up to, I strongly advise you to cough up now.’

Raindrops and roses . Pale-blue eyes, staring into mine.

‘Because if you don’t and I find out,’ he continued, ‘I will wipe the frigging floor with you.’

Deep breath. Get hold of the last of my nerve. ‘Go fuck yourself,’ I managed.

For a second, just from the look in his eyes, I thought he was going to hit me. Then he got a hold of himself, taking a deep breath himself and letting it out slowly. He shook his head again, and I didn’t think I’d ever seen anyone look at me with quite such contempt.

‘Given the choice, I’d wipe my hands of you, Flint,’ he said. ‘I think you’re trouble. But Dana, for some reason, has taken a bit of a shine to you and she cannot deal with any more stress right now. So for her sake, I’m giving you a warning. Keep your nose clean or I’ll break it.’

At that moment, he looked perfectly capable of doing so. ‘You are way out of line,’ I told him.

He stepped closer still, clearly one of those men who use their size to intimidate. ‘You are a member of the Metropolitan police service,’ he said. ‘I suggest you try and remember that. And I really hope you’re not up to anything you shouldn’t be in Camden. But if you are, I’ll find out. Watch your back.’

He’d turned away and was heading for the steps when I came to my senses. I could not let this man launch a serious investigation into me. He was halfway up before I found my voice.

‘DI Joesbury.’

I watched him register the change in my voice, saw his shoulders moving as he took in another deep breath.

‘I go to Camden for sex,’ I said, quietly, but knowing he was listening hard. I let my jacket slip off my shoulders and saw him turn as it fell to the ground. The dress I was wearing was sleeveless, held up by thin straps.

‘I don’t have a regular boyfriend and I don’t want one,’ I went on. Joesbury didn’t move. I saw the light from the streetlamp was turning his skin a soft gold. ‘But there are times when what I can do on my own just isn’t enough. Can you understand that?’

His right hand clenched around his car keys and he took a step forward. He was coming back down the steps. What the hell had I done? I hadn’t planned for this, would never be ready for this, and how could I not have realized before – Mark Joesbury scared me.

I’d stepped backwards, could feel the stone wall cold against my skin. Joesbury saw the panic in my face and stopped moving. His eyes narrowed and we stared at each other for a second longer. Then he turned, climbed the rest of the steps and disappeared.