Eeny Meeny by M. J. Arlidge Read Free Book Online Page B

‘Yes’, though it was obvious that that was the answer. It was clear now – to Helen as well as Mark – that he was well on his way to alcoholism. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass wall behind Helen. In his mind’s eye he was still the handsome guy of a year ago – tall, rangy with thick curls – but he was in a deep pit now and it showed. His skin was lifeless, his eyes dull. An unshaven, shambolic mess.
    ‘I don’t think I can do this any more.’
    It just came out. He hadn’t meant to say it. He hadn’t wanted to say it. But he really needed to talk to someone. Helen had always been fair with him. He owed it to her to be honest.
    ‘I don’t think it’s fair to you or the team to drag this out …’
    Helen regarded him. For the first time today, Mark noticed a softening in her expression.
    ‘I know how you feel, Mark, and if you want some time off, that’s fine. But you are not quitting on me.’
    There was a steely determination in her voice.
    ‘You’re too good to throw it all away. You’re the best DS I’ve ever worked with.’
    Mark didn’t know what to say. He had been expecting derision, but her tone was kind and her offer of help seemed genuine. It was true that they had been through a lot together – solving the Paget Street murders last year had been the highpoint of Mark’s career – and a close professional bond had grown between them over time. In many ways her kindness was worse than a bollocking.
    ‘I want to help you, Mark,’ she continued. ‘But you’re going to have to work with me here. We are in the middle of a murder enquiry, so when I say I want you somewhere at 9.30 a.m., you’d bloody better be. If you can’t do that – or don’t want to – then I will get you transferred or suspended. Do you understand?’
    Mark nodded.
    ‘No more vodka breakfasts,’ Helen continued. ‘No more lunchtime trips to the pub. No more lies. If you trust me, I’ll help you and we can get through this, but I need you to trust me. Do you trust me?’
    Mark raised his eyes to meet hers.
    ‘Of course I do.’
    ‘Good, then let’s get on with it. Team briefing in five minutes.’
    And with that she resumed her work. Mark left her office, wrong-footed but relieved. Helen Grace never failed to surprise him.

18
     
    Biking home to her city centre flat, Helen replayed the conversation with Mark in her head. Had she been too hard? Too soft? Was she repeating mistakes she’d made before? She was still chewing on it when she shut her front door behind her. Slipping the chain on, she headed straight for the shower. She’d been up for forty-eight hours straight and she needed to feel clean again.
    She faced forwards, the water pummelling her neck and breasts, before she turned round. The steaming hot water struck her back and immediately pain coursed through her body. It was agony at first, but slowly the stinging subsided and Helen once more felt calm.
    Towelling herself down, she walked back into the bedroom. Now dry, she dropped the towel to the floor and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. She was an attractive sight naked, but few had seen her like this. Cautious of intimacy and wary of the inevitable questions, her encounters had mostly been casual and short-lived. Not that the men had cared – by and large they had seemed extremely pleased to find a woman who would go to bed with them and didn’t hang around afterwards.
    Opening her wardrobe, Helen eschewed the rows of jeans and shirts in favour of sweat pants and top – she was due at a BoxCombat class later and there seemed little point in changing twice. She paused briefly to take in the police uniforms, neatly preserved in pristine suit bags, that she used to wear when she was on the beat. Those days had been the making of her. The first day she tied her hair back, strapped on the stab vest and hit the streets was one of the happiest of her life. For the first time ever she felt she belonged. That she