Perfect Crime. Helen Fields
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but I work hard, play hard and I’m not in bad shape.’
It was all Ava could do not to roll her eyes.
‘So I think there must be someone else.’ Selina stopped stitching and sat upright, pausing to look Ava in the eyes. ‘What do you think, Ava? Is there another woman in Luc’s life I know nothing about?’
‘Bloody hell, no. He was reclusive until he met you. There was a weird moment with his neighbour, Bunny, but that was her doing rather than his and it stopped before it got started. Apart from that, he’s not had a single date since he moved to Scotland, as far as I’m aware.’ Ava inspected the neat stitching along her leg as Selina stuck a gauze pad over it. ‘Wow, great job. I’m really grateful.’
‘You mean, except for all the dates with you, at the cinema, dinner, drinks, fishing …’ Selina said as she cleared the debris from the operation.
‘Well, neither of us would call those dates,’ Ava laughed. ‘A couple of work colleagues keeping each other company because they’ve got no one else to be with, maybe.’
‘Do you know he wakes at night sometimes calling your name? He has this recurring nightmare. He told me it comes from a time when you were taken hostage and he was worried he’d reach you too late. That must have been terribly traumatic for you.’ Selina stripped off her gloves and dropped them in a bin.
‘It was,’ Ava said quietly, reluctant to recall the events. Other women hadn’t been as lucky as her. Not all of them had survived.
‘Those sorts of traumas create a strong bond between people. Sometimes it felt as if he’d have been happier holding you after waking from those dreams. I was always just a substitute. I suppose it’s better I figured that out sooner rather than later.’ She stood up and took a prescription pad from her pocket.
‘Sorry it took so long. Drinks at last,’ Callanach said, kicking the curtain aside to enter and thrusting steaming paper cups at them both.
‘Thank you,’ Ava said quietly. ‘Luc, could you wait outside while I get my jeans back on, please?’
‘Oh, sure, just give me a shout if you need any help.’
He looked confused but exited anyway.
Ava took a deep breath and tried to compose a reply. Selina had obviously misjudged the situation between Callanach and her, and if that was what had split them up, she needed to put it right.
‘Selina, Luc and I are just work colleagues. You know that, right? He sees me more like one of the guys than a woman he could ever be interested in. And it’s not always easy between us. My God, when we argue it’s like sailing through a storm.’
‘I bet it is,’ Selina smiled. ‘Here’s your prescription. You should get it filled immediately and start taking the antibiotics tonight. No alcohol until you finish all the tablets. Any problem with the leg, see a doctor immediately. Keep the stitches as dry as you can.’
Ava sat up and pulled her jeans back on gingerly.
‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, taking the piece of paper from Selina’s hand.
‘Don’t hurt him, Ava,’ Selina whispered. ‘He may act tough but there’s only so much one person can take. If you don’t feel the same way about him as he feels about you, you should let him go.’
‘But I …’
‘With respect, stop playing dumb. It doesn’t suit you,’ Selina finished. ‘I hope the leg heals soon.’
Ava sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if she should go after Selina, who’d either forgotten or abandoned her espresso. Not that there was anything else to say. She’d clearly made up her mind that there was something going on between Callanach and her, and as for the playing-dumb comment … that was a step too far. It was difficult to share someone like Callanach, she guessed. The good looks and French charm would make him a target for many women, so it was understandable that any girlfriend of his might get the odd pang of jealousy. And she and Callanach did work very closely together.
She slipped her feet back into her trainers. More than just closely, she had to admit. This morning she’d woken up in his bed shortly after he’d saved her life. That was what Selina was feeling. It was that co-dependency that police partners sometimes developed, the sense that there was one person in all the world who’d never let you down. The knowledge that there was one human being who knew what you were thinking, who could anticipate your every action and decision, and who would catch you every single time you fell – physically, emotionally, professionally, personally – every single time.
Ava took a sip of her tea and bit her bottom lip, wondering if she should talk to Callanach about Selina’s delusion. He might be a little shocked at first, but he’d see the funny side. Perhaps it would even allow Selina and him to have a conversation where they could mend the rift between them.
The talk of nightmares had shocked her. She’d pushed those awful days of her life as far back in her mind as she could and in doing so had assumed everyone else involved had done the same. Callanach had lived with the prospect of losing her to a deeply deranged psychopath and that must have been hard for him. She composed herself and wandered down the corridor, finding him reading a noticeboard and grimacing over his coffee.
‘We can go,’ she said softly.
‘Great, that was quick. Where’s Selina?’
‘She got called to another cubicle,’ Ava said, lying becoming a theme of the night. ‘She said to tell you goodbye. You should call her soon. I’m sure she’d appreciate a drink when you’re both less frantic.’
‘Good idea,’ he said, putting an arm around Ava’s waist so she could lean on him and keep the pressure off her leg. ‘What did you and Selina talk about when I was getting coffee?’
Ava barely paused. ‘Spain,’ she said. ‘Would you mind driving me to a chemist next?’
‘Whatever you need,’ he said, opening the car door for her. ‘I’m all yours.’
As Ava waited for her prescription to be filled at the chemist, a man armed with nothing more lethal than a fish supper walked the streets of Edinburgh, peering into windows carelessly left uncurtained. Dr Selina Vega had offered to cover a shift for a colleague who’d called in sick, knowing she wouldn’t get to sleep after seeing the man she loved and had lost. Pax Graham, sitting at his brand-new desk, read the statements taken from the staff at the nursing home and wondered how he was going to tell his boss on the second day of his new post that a colleague was the prime suspect in a murder case. And Mrs Fenella Hawksmith – Fenny to her bingo friends who’d been wondering where she was for the last three weeks – was being wheeled out in a body bag for transfer to the Edinburgh City Mortuary.
Fenny had assumed for the last three years of her life that death would be something of a relief. Losing her husband to cancer had been bad but fast. Unable to continue living in the house they’d shared, she’d taken the cheaper, anonymous one-bedroomed flat on Easter Road. What pained her more was the daughter she’d lost to drugs in Glasgow. Alice had run away twelve years earlier. Came back. Went to rehab. Relapsed. Ran away again. Lived on the streets. Came home. Stole from them. Ran away again. For the last five years, Fenny hadn’t known if her precious girl was alive or dead. She couldn’t even share the knowledge of her father’s passing with her. There had been no one to hold her as she’d grieved, and no one for her to comfort and give her a reason to live.
Fenny’s doctor had been sympathetic but overstretched, prescribing antidepressants on request when she’d described her feelings of hopelessness. Her