If you’re going to kiss someone for the first time, and then drop them as if they are red hot, it’s a kindness to have some sort of exit strategy planned so they can recover their equilibrium in peace. Instead of that, Adam and I were standing on a hillside together, in what might as well have been the middle of nowhere. Once the kissing stopped, all we could do was return to the car and pretend it hadn’t happened at all.
I was not good at pretending. I sat beside him with my fingers pressed to my mouth, and he concentrated on driving. He swore quietly a few times at other cars but otherwise he was silent all the way back, until we reached the outskirts of London itself and I broke.
‘I think we might need to talk.’
His hands tightened on the wheel. His shoulders were up around his ears: so much for the calm and easy driving I’d admired on the way out. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Why are you sorry? It wasn’t as if it was a bad kiss. Believe me, I’ve had worse.’
He winced. ‘That’s not the point. It shouldn’t have happened.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s complicated. There’s a very important rule about not getting involved with witnesses and victims during a case. It’s massively inappropriate.’ He glanced at me and immediately looked away. ‘There’s the power imbalance. They’re vulnerable and you represent safety. You can’t take advantage of that.’
I cleared my throat. ‘You’re not really taking advantage of me, though. I’m not the kind of person who goes starry-eyed around police officers, as you might have noticed. And this isn’t official police business, is it? So you’re not going to get disciplined for getting involved with me.’
‘Not the point. I should have more self-control.’
‘Adam, it was one kiss. Stop torturing yourself.’
The traffic had bunched up in front of us without me noticing, and we slid to a stop, so Adam had to look at me.
‘Is that all you want? One kiss?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, truthfully, thinking of Mark. I wasn’t over him; I wasn’t ready to be with anyone else. But I’d never given myself a chance to get over Mark. I’d never allowed anyone else to try to be with me. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Right.’ He said it under his breath and turned back to stare out of the windscreen.
I balled my hands into fists from pure frustration. ‘I’m not trying to put you off, but I don’t know what you want me to say. I wasn’t expecting it.’
‘You didn’t see it coming?’
‘Not really. I mean, I didn’t know you were attracted to me, even though I—’ I broke off.
‘You?’ he asked politely.
‘I had thought about it.’
‘Oh, really.’ A sideways glance that made my catch my breath; my God, when he dropped his grim policeman façade there was something seriously hot about DC Nash.
‘But I didn’t think you felt the same way.’
‘I’ve been wanting to do that,’ Adam said, ‘since I saw you in the café that first day.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’ He looked at me and whatever he saw in my face made him smile. ‘But I did try very hard not to show it. I wasn’t going to say anything until all of this was over.’
‘You still haven’t actually said anything except that you wish it hadn’t happened,’ I pointed out. ‘And a lot of guff about taking advantage of me.’
‘I think I’ve made myself clear.’
‘Do you? Because I’m still confused.’
‘Maybe I should show you how I feel.’ He sounded matter-of-fact, and that in itself made my stomach do a slow somersault.
‘Maybe you should.’
The car in front began to move again and Adam returned his attention to the road, and that was the end of our conversation for the remainder of the journey. The silence had a different quality now, though. It was charged with a strange kind of energy – anticipation and yearning and doubt, humming at a level below sound. I could feel it, all the time. I hadn’t felt this way since Mark.
But I didn’t want to think about Mark now. I pushed him out of my mind with an effort that was almost physical. This was nothing to do with him. He’d said as much himself.
It was dark by the time we reached the flat. For once there was a parking space on the road near the gate. Adam pulled into it and turned off the engine, taking the key out of the ignition. I guessed he was making some fairly reasonable assumptions about what was going to happen next.
Not now. Not yet.
That was pure instinct talking; I wanted him, but I wasn’t ready.
‘Adam, it’s not that I don’t want you to come in,’ I said slowly. ‘I just – I need some time to get used to it. I have a lot to think about.’
‘Of course.’
‘Is it okay, though? I don’t want to upset you. It’s not really about you, or us, or whatever this is. I just need to get my head straight.’
He reached over and touched my face tenderly. ‘Take as long as you need to. There’s no hurry.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Come here.’
I leaned across the gap between the seats and he kissed me again, for longer this time but without the bruising intensity of the kiss on the hillside. It was strange and different and exciting, and I felt myself start to waver. I pulled back.
‘Adam.’
‘Mm.’
‘You could come in.’
He sighed. ‘No. You were right the first time. It’s better if we take our time.’
‘Is it?’
‘Get out of my car, Ingrid,’ he said softly, and leaned closer to me, which I interpreted as being a move to kiss me again but in fact was him reaching for the door latch. The door swung open behind me. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said.
‘Okay. But—’
‘Goodbye.’
‘Bye.’ I got out of the car, my nerves humming as if someone was drawing a bow across them with exquisite control and patience. I shut the car door. Adam started the engine, but sat with it idling while he waited for me to go inside. I found myself smiling to myself as I walked across to unlock the gate, and I waved at him as he drove away.
The courtyard was deserted, most of the lights off in the flats around it. No sign of Helen. Thoughtfully, I went up the steps to my front door. I could still feel Adam’s hands on me, and his mouth on mine. I closed my eyes for an instant, then bent to tackle the new lock, which was annoyingly stiff. I started with calm tinkering, then frowning concentration, and had got all the way to swearing and threats by the time the door finally came open. I stamped in and slammed it, fed up beyond words by the whole situation.
The flat was in darkness and I stopped, overwhelmed by the memory of coming home to find poor Vicki’s body in the corner. Stupid, Ingrid. I switched the light on and looked around to reassure myself that there was no pool of blood this time, no smears of it on the floor, no signs of a struggle.
Everything was exactly as neat and tidy as I had left it.
Everything was the same, except for John Webster, who had been sitting on my sofa in the dark, waiting for me to come home.