The Wire in the Blood by Val McDermid Read Free Book Online

had settled over Tony’s face, Shaz continued enthusiastically. ‘Are you going to do a session on that? We’ve all heard the grapevine version, but there’s next to nothing in the literature, even though it’s obvious you did a textbook job on the profile.’
    ‘We won’t be covering that case,’ he said flatly.
    Shaz looked up sharply and realized where her eagerness had beached her. She’d blown it this time, in spades. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I get carried away, and tact and diplomacy, they’re history. I wasn’t thinking.’ Thick git, she berated herself silently. If he’d had the therapy he would have needed after that particular nightmare, the last thing he’d want would be to expose the details to avid prurience, even if it was masquerading as legitimate scientific interest.
    ‘You don’t have to apologize, Shaz,’ Tony said wearily. ‘You’re right, it is a key case. The reason we won’t be covering it is that I can’t talk about it without feeling like a freak. You’ll all have to forgive me. Maybe one day you’ll catch a case that leaves you feeling the same way. For your sake, I sincerely hope not.’ He looked down at his Danish as if it were an alien artefact and pushed it to one side, appetite dead as the past was supposed to be.
    Shaz wished she could rerun the tape, pick up the conversation at the point where he’d put the coffee down on her desk and there was still the possibility of using the moment to build a bridge. ‘I’m really sorry, Dr Hill,’ she said inadequately.
    He looked up and forced a thin smile. ‘Truly, Shaz, there’s no need. And can we drop the “Dr Hill” bit? I meant to bring it up during yesterday’s session, but it slipped my mind. I don’t want you all feeling that I’m the teacher and you’re the class. At the moment, I’m the group leader simply because I’ve been doing this for a while. Before long, we’ll all be working side by side, and there’s no point in having barriers between us. So it’s Tony from now on in, OK?’
    ‘You got it, Tony.’ Shaz searched for the message in his eyes and his words and, satisfied it contained genuine forgiveness, wolfed the rest of her Danish and returned to her screen. She couldn’t do it while he was here, but next time she was in the computer room alone, she intended to use her Internet access to pull up the newspaper archives and check out all the reports of the Bradfield serial killer case. She’d read most of them at the time, but that had been before she’d met Tony Hill and everything had changed. Now, she had a special interest. By the time she was finished, she’d know enough about Tony Hill’s most public profile to write the book that, for reasons she still couldn’t understand, had never been written. After all, she was a detective, wasn’t she?
    Carol Jordan fiddled with the complicated chrome coffee maker, a housewarming present from her brother Michael when she’d moved to Seaford. She’d been luckier than most people caught in the housing market slump. She hadn’t had far to look for a buyer for her half of the warehouse flat she and Michael owned; the barrister he’d recently been sharing his bedroom with had been so eager to buy her out that Carol had begun to wonder if she’d been even more of a gooseberry than she’d imagined.
    Now she had this low stone cottage on the side of the hill that rose above the estuary almost directly opposite Seaford; a place of her own. Well, almost, she corrected herself, reminded by the hard skull head-butting her shin. ‘OK, Nelson,’ she said, stooping to scratch the black cat’s ears. ‘I hear what you’re saying.’ While the coffee brewed, she scooped out a bowl of cat food to a rapture of purring followed by the sloppy sound of Nelson inhaling his breakfast. She walked through to the living room to enjoy the panorama of the estuary and the improbably slender arc of the suspension bridge. Gazing out across the misty