The Calling Of The Grave

Sophie and Terry?

They'd never even liked each other. On the search operation they'd barely spoken, and when they had it was a struggle for them to be civil.

And why was that, do you think? Because there was nothing between them?

I felt as though the world had subtly shifted. It was no good telling myself that Terry was lying. There had been a sneering triumph in his voice, as though he'd been waiting for his moment. Sophie's past was nothing to do with me. I'd no right to judge her, and even less to feel jealous. But this was different. We were in the middle of a murder investigation, and it wasn't just anybody.

It was Terry Connors.

One of the ponies had come to the gate beside the car, potbellied and muddied. It leaned its head through the bars, staring at me with dark-eyed curiosity. There was a white blaze on its forehead, slightly off-centre. I felt a vague recognition, until I realized it was in roughly the same place as the dent in Monk's skull.

Stop brooding. There are more important things to think about. I switched the engine on and drove away. I hadn't been paying attention to where I was going, and I had to drive until I saw a signpost before I realized where I was. I'd been heading away from Padbury, and had to backtrack through Oldwich to pick up the right road.

I drove past the pub without looking to see if Terry's car was still there.

The mist began to close in again as I left the high moor behind. Soon it had thickened to a blank fog, hazing my vision like cataracts and forcing me to slow down. By the time I reached Sophie's house twilight was gathering, the windows glowing like lighthouses through the gloom.

There was another car parked behind Sophie's in the lane.

Leaving the groceries I'd bought in the car boot, I hurried up the path and tried the front door. It was locked. I banged on it and waited, straining for any sound from inside. I heard the bolts being shot back, and then the door was opened.

'There's a car in the lane-' I stopped. The chain was on but it was a man's face that stared at me through the gap.

'That'd be mine. Can I help you?' he said.

Before I could answer Sophie's voice came from behind him. 'It's all right, Nick, let him in.'

The man looked past me, scanning the path and garden before closing the door and slipping off the chain. He opened it and stood back, a fit-looking man in his early thirties, wearing jeans and a faded sweatshirt. He didn't take his eyes off the path as I went in. As soon as I was inside he closed and bolted the door again.

Sophie was in the hallway, smiling. A pretty blonde woman stood next to her; short, but with the compact muscularity of a gymnast. There was a poised watchfulness about her, and as the man finished locking up I saw her hand move away from her hip.

There was a gun holstered there.

'David, meet Steph Cross and Nick Miller.' Sophie's smile broadened. 'They're my bodyguards.'

Chapter 23

If I hadn't been told that Miller and Cross were police I'd never have guessed. Both were specialist firearms officers, trained in close protection work, but there was nothing about their appearance or attitude to suggest it. In their casual clothes they might have been teachers or medics.

Except for the guns, of course.

'What made Roper change his mind?' I asked. We were in the kitchen, sitting round the table while Sophie unpacked the groceries I'd fetched from the car and began preparing dinner.

'Roper?' Miller was crunching a strip of raw pepper.

'DI Roper. He's on the ACC's staff.'

'Bit too high and mighty for us, then,' Miller said. 'Our orders came from Naysmith, but I can't tell you any more than that. We were told to pack our bags for a trip to the country, so here we are. Ours not to reason why, and all that.'

He was the more outgoing of the two, laid back and with a ready grin. His short hair was prematurely grey, although somehow it didn't age him. Cross was a few years younger, probably still in her twenties. Although she was quieter than her partner, there was an air of unruffled competence about her that was reassuring.

At least Naysmith was taking Sophie's safety seriously.

'How long will you be staying?' she asked them, scraping chopped onion into a pan. I hadn't realized how tense she'd been until now. The pair's arrival seemed to have lifted a weight from her, so that she seemed almost drunk with relief.

'Long enough,' Miller said, peering at the bolognese sauce Sophie was preparing. 'Don't worry, we won't get under your feet. Just keep us fed and watered and you won't even know we're here. Although you might want to sautй the onions a bit longer before you add the meat.'

Sophie put down the spoon, mock-indignant. 'Do you want to do this?'

'Naw, cooking's not part of my job description. But I'm a quarter Italian, I know these things. I'd go easy with the salt, as well.'

Sophie appealed to Cross. 'Is he always like this?'

The blonde policewoman gave the impression of smiling even though her mouth didn't actually move. Her cornflower-blue eyes were serene and watchful. 'You learn not to take any notice.'

Miller looked hurt. 'I'm just saying, that's all.'

It was almost possible to forget why the pair were there, which was probably the idea. It was easier to guard someone if they were relaxed rather than jumping at shadows.

And Sophie had certainly relaxed. Her objection to staying in a safe house didn't extend to other types of protection. I was glad about that, but the meeting with Terry still preyed on my mind. I'd called Roper to let him know, and been relieved to go straight to his voicemail. I'd left a short message without going into details. If he wanted to know more he could call me back.

But I still hadn't had a chance to talk to Sophie about it. Miller and Cross must have picked up on the atmosphere, because after a while they made an excuse and left us alone. Sophie was on such a high that even then she didn't notice.

'They're really nice, aren't they? Not at all like the armed police I used to know,' she said, stirring the simmering pasta sauce. The kitchen smelled of tomato and garlic. 'They turned up about an hour or so after you'd left. I don't often get customers stopping by, so I thought they'd got lost at first, or they were trying to sell something. Then they flashed their ID and said Naysmith had sent them. Did you know he was going to?'

'No.'

Sophie broke off to look at me. 'I thought you'd be pleased. Is something wrong?'

'I saw Terry Connors this afternoon.'

She went very still, then turned back to the saucepan. 'What stone did he crawl from under?'

'He said he wanted to explain.'

'Oh?'

'I didn't know there'd been anything between you.'

She had her back to me, her face hidden. The only sound was the spoon rattling against the pan. 'There's no reason why you should.'

'Don't you think you should have mentioned it?'

'It isn't something I like to talk about. It was a mistake. A long time ago.'

I said nothing. Sophie put the spoon down and turned to face me.

'Look, it doesn't have anything to do with what's going on now.'

'Are you sure about that?'

'It's in the past, all right?' she flared. 'It's none of your business anyway. I don't have to tell you everything!'

She was right, she didn't. But she was wrong about its being none of my business. It had become that when she'd asked for my help. And whatever game Terry was playing affected us both. The sauce popped and bubbled in the pan.

'You need to stir that,' I said, and went upstairs.

My bag was back in my room. I threw the rest of my things into it. The last thing I felt like was a long drive back to London. But

Sophie was safe with Miller and Cross there. There was no longer any reason for me to stay, and I'd had enough of feeling used.