The Bad Things: A gripping crime thriller full of twists and turns. Mary-Jane Riley

thought; always able to go with the flow. Which was probably why she married him – a good contrast to her tendency to be uptight.

      ‘Anyway, what are you doing home?’

      ‘Meeting my lover, what else?’ She laughed lightly. ‘Have you had anything to eat? Do you fancy some toast?’

      He grabbed her by the shoulders and planted a kiss on her lips. ‘Toast sounds good. Unless you fancy something else…’ He looked up the stairs and then back at her. Cocked his head to one side.

      She thought of the pills she had got from the doctor and the pill she took every day, both shoved in the back of the cupboard, and felt guilty and irritated at the same time. She pushed him away. ‘No time for that. I must eat and get going. So, toast?’ She tried to make her voice sound bright.

      Chris held up his hands. ‘Whoa. Sorry. Just a thought. Toast would be great.’

      Kate kept her head down – she couldn’t bear to see the hurt look on his face. Instead, she went to the bread bin and took the loaf out, trying to undo the red plastic tape. ‘Bugger, bugger, why do they wrap bloody bread like this.’ She took a knife out of the drawer and started to hack at the tape.

      ‘Careful, don’t hurt yourself.’

      ‘I won’t,’ she snapped, taking a couple of slices from the now open packet. ‘See? It’s done. But the sodding bread’s mouldy.’

      Chris was beside her, taking the bread out of her hands. ‘It’s only a bit of green along the edges. It’ll be fine when I’ve got peanut butter and jam on the top.’

      ‘Up to you.’ Kate reached up into a cupboard and took down the pack of muesli, shaking some into a bowl, looking crossly at the dried fruit, seeds, and oats. ‘Urgh, why can’t I like this stuff?’

      ‘Because it’s rabbit food.’

      ‘That’s lettuce.’

      ‘Well, some animal that eats oats and fruit and enjoys it.’

      ‘Good for me though.’ She poured milk out of the bottle onto it.

      ‘Sometimes it’s good to have things you enjoy.’

      Kate looked at him sharply, then caught her breath at the sadness of his expression. She put down her bowl and went over to him, putting her arms around his solid waist. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m just a bit twitchy.’

      ‘Any particular reason?’

      The toast popped up and Chris began to slather it with butter. Kate’s irritation flared up again. ‘You’ll give yourself a heart attack if you’re not careful.’

      ‘At least I will have enjoyed myself,’ he said mildly.

      ‘What are you saying?’

      ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’ Out came the peanut butter and jam. He sighed. ‘I don’t know what’s eating you this morning. I’m beginning to think I did disturb you and your lover.’

      All the fight went out of Kate and she sat down. What the fuck was she doing, trying to pick a fight with him? ‘I’m sorry, Chris. It was something I heard on the news today that’s made me feel a bit out of sorts.’ Understatement of the year.

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘A woman called Jackie Wood has been released from prison. Her sentence was quashed—’

      ‘I heard about that on the radio. While I was driving. Put away for – what was it – conspiracy to murder or something? Her and some guy called Martin Jessop had murdered two little kids, is that right? I was abroad at the time so don’t remember it really. But why has that made you so—’

      ‘Bad-tempered? Irritable?’

      He grinned. ‘If you put it like that, yes.’

      She sighed. How much to say? She had never told him about finding little Harry, about eventually holding him in her arms after the photographs, the examination of his little body, the forensics that had been carried out, and about the sheer and utter helplessness she had felt. She had never wanted to feel his pity. ‘I was involved in that case.’

      ‘Oh?’ Chris began to eat his toast.

      ‘Worked on it. Had to give evidence in court. It was a bit…’ She hesitated. ‘Upsetting.’

      ‘But it was, what? Sixteen years ago?’

      ‘Fifteen.’

      ‘Right. Not your case now.’

      ‘No. But I feel for the family. They must be pretty upset to see her coming out like that.’

      ‘I’m sure. But it’s not for you to get involved, is it? I mean, not personally.’

      She shrugged. ‘I just keep wondering what they’re feeling, thinking. I wonder if I ought to go and see them.’

      ‘Because you were on the case all that time ago? You were only a PC then, weren’t you?’

      Kate didn’t heed the warning note of exasperation in Chris’s voice. ‘Yes, it was one of my first jobs after months on the beat.’ She spooned some of the muesli into her mouth. ‘I’ve had enough of this.’ She walked over to the sink and dumped her bowl in it with a clatter. ‘I ought to get to the station, I’ve got plenty to do.’

      Chris stood and took hold of her hand. ‘Can’t you give it a few more minutes? You’re out all the hours God sends and I’d really like to talk.’

      ‘We do talk.’

      ‘Properly, I mean. Without you falling asleep on me.’ He smiled. A serious smile.

      ‘I can’t help it, you know. It’s tough out there.’ She shook her hand free of Chris’s.

      ‘Hardly the mean streets of New York though, is it?’

      ‘You’d be surprised. And New York isn’t like it used to be. If you listened to the news more often you’d know that.’ She cringed inwardly at her own words.

      ‘Kate—’

      ‘No. I really do have to go.’

      ‘Why is it you’re so damned keen to interfere in everyone else’s lives but keep our life together at arm’s-length?’ Chris asked, his tone deceptively mild.

      ‘Interfering?’ Kate let a note of self-righteous anger into her voice. ‘What? You mean my job? I thought you were proud of me? I thought it was part of why you love me—’

      ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I am proud of you, of course I am, because you’re you. But I care about us, you and me. Not drugs or prostitutes or murderers. You and me, Kate. You and me. And sometimes—’

      Kate stood still. ‘Sometimes what?’ It was like picking a scab.

      Chris picked up his toast again. ‘One day, Kate, we’re going to have to talk about this. I mean, really talk.’

      Kate went to the door. ‘Chris?’ Suddenly she wanted to tell him about the trip to the doctor’s, the pills, the possibility of counselling, of finding Harry’s body, how it had made her feel.

      ‘Mmm?’ He appeared to be engrossed in the newspaper that had been lying on the table, and he didn’t look up.

      Anger surged through her once more. ‘I’ll see you later,’ she said.

       7

      Alex pulled the front door closed behind her and hunched down into her coat, trying to avoid the worst of the east wind and the rain lashing at her face. She loved Sole Bay with its jumble of terraces, semis, and mansions, and the B. & B.s, and the chi-chi shops