anything stupid, Andy , the look said. Gerry was headed for his car in the hotel parking lot, which he would no doubt drive home to a lonely apartment somewhere in the city, or wherever single solicitors went to lay their heads. Karen Mahoney had gone to use the ladies room, or the ‘sand box’ as she called it, and would probably be back any minute.
‘So, are you okay, Andy?’ Makedde asked. Her tone was flat and there was still no trace of a smile on her soft lips. ‘Is everything going well for you? Life good?’
My ex-wife was murdered, I almost lost my job over you and now you are finally here and you couldn’t be farther from me. What do you think? ‘Been better,’ he replied. ‘But yeah, I’m fine.’
‘Good. Me too,’ she said, and looked at the floor. He couldn’t read her. Damn, he couldn’t read her at all.
Mahoney appeared behind them. ‘Hey? How is everyone?’ Her red Irish curls quivered like springs. She was well aware of the past relationship between Mak and Andy. She had been there when the two first met at the La Perouse crime scene, before Andy’s whole life was turned upside down, and Makedde’s too, he supposed. Mahoney was probably trying her best to keep everything civil in case some emotional battle broke out between them, but Andy wished she’d go away and leave them alone. He wished Mak would invite him for another drink and a chance to talk, maybe invite him to her room the way she would have only a few months ago.
‘We’re fine, Karen,’ Mak said. ‘I should be going.’
‘Yup, getting late for a Tuesday night. Give me a call if you need anything, okay? Even just to chat or get together for a coffee.’
‘Okay, Karen. Thanks.’
Mak said goodnight and strolled off in the direction of the elevators, and Andy watched her walk away, his heart sinking like a stone in his chest. Before he had a chance to chase after her, Mahoney grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him towards the hotel exit, sensing his mood, and perhaps his blood–alcohol level.
‘I’m driving you home. Come on,’ she said. Andy was too befuddled to protest, and he allowed himself to be dragged away. He found he didn’thave much fight in him now that Makedde had looked through him as if he were an apparition.
Mak…
He had gone and broken the golden rule, he had mixed business with pleasure and he was still paying for it. It had been an accident at first, but quickly became more than that. Much more. In Andy’s defence, when they first found themselves in each other’s arms he was being dragged through an ugly divorce and Mak was a beautiful unattached young woman peripheral to the Stiletto Murders investigation. But then, of course, she had become much more important to the case—and to him. It had become a Class A fuck-up in every sense. If his superiors had not been so happy that the high-profile case had been resolved, he might have lost his job over the affair. As it was, he’d been kicked off the investigation, temporarily suspended, reinstated and then promoted in a way, thanks to successfully solving the murders and putting Ed Brown into custody.
What if they’d met under different circumstances? Would things have worked out more smoothly? Was Makedde yet another sacrifice for his career? Like Cassandra?
‘You’re never home any more, honey. I feel like I’m widowed.’
He had already sacrificed so much.
Why’d he have to care about Makedde so goddamn much when she clearly had finished with him?
And Ed’s defence team would just be getting started.
CHAPTER 6
Eleven o’clock on Tuesday night, past lights out, and the dark corridors of Long Bay Correctional Centre were peaceful in the wing where those in solitary confinement lay their heads. As peaceful as could be, at least. Robbie Thompson, the convicted paedophile, flinched in his sleep, and ‘Dirty’ Victor Malmstrom mumbled incoherently, conversing in his dreams with someone safe from his violence—for now at