Page 63 of D for Dead

‘What happened?’ he asked quietly.

‘Nothing happened. We talked. He wanted to hypnotise me. I said no.’

‘Okay.’ Jake knew the doctor wouldn’t have suggested hypnotherapy unless there was good reason. At the moment Amy was hostile to the idea and needed time to calm down, think rationally. ‘So is that what upset you, the thought of being hypnotised?’

‘I’m not upset. I’m fine.’

That damn word again. It was beginning to irritate him.

‘Okay, you’re not upset. But something has pissed you off.’ Her hands tensed around the wine glass.

‘I told you it was a bad idea. I’m not comfortable talking about stuff with people. I don’t like dredging up the past.’ She took another long drink of her wine, set the glass down on the balcony wall. ‘It’s difficult being reminded of what I’ve lost, knowing I can’t get it back. It brought up a few painful memories is all.’

She shrugged, trying to make light of it.

But finally he understood and felt guilty. The family he took for granted that she no longer had. By making her see Shinnick, he had forced her to relive the past.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Come here.’ He caught hold of her as she made to walk past him.

‘I have to get ready for work.’

‘I know. Come here.’

Giving into the urge, he pulled her into his arms.

Surprised, her breath hitched and she stiffened, but only for a brief moment before she relaxed into him.

The warm musky scents from her shower filled his senses.

Careful, Sullivan.

The rational part of his brain fought to gain control, knowing he had to stay professional, could not go down this route. He wouldn’t kiss her. He would not let it go that far. But he continued to hold her, convincing himself he was only offering comfort and not doing anything wrong.

* * *

In the street below, hidden in the shadows of the trees, a lone figure watched, a ball of anger building in his gut.

Bitch.

He raised the camera, zoomed in the lens.

Click. Click.

She would pay for this. He was going to make sure she paid.

20

It was Saturday night, Alan was out of town at a plastics convention and Rebecca had a hot date with a takeaway pizza, the Tarantino double-bill playing on cable and a six-pack of beer. When did her life become so rock ‘n’ roll?

Showered, hair tied back and dressed in a pair of old sweats, she fed the cats, watered her plants and played through her answerphone messages.

Two from her mother, blabbering on about coming into town, something about wanting help to plan a party; one from Alan telling her he’d arrived in Denver and when he got back they had some stuff they needed to talk about; and one cold-caller trying to sell her life insurance. She hit delete, erased the lot.

Her mother she would deal with in the morning. Why on earth she thought Rebecca would have the first clue about planning parties, she didn’t know. Surely that was more Wendy’s area of expertise. Besides, she sure as hell couldn’t cope with a Sarah Angell mom–daughter chat after a full day in the office. The Storybook Killer, as they had informally named him, was no closer to being caught and they had a growing pool of suspects.