“He’s not answering.”
“Amazing that,” Tony deadpanned before gesturing to me. “Come on, we’re not going to get anywhere with this one.”
“Aw, not staying for dinner?” Lee teased, his mouth shaping back into a grin as he held his hands out. “And I went to all this trouble.”
Tony was about to throw some barb back at him when his radio went off with a call from dispatch. He stepped away so he could answer it, thus leaving me alone with Lee, who leaned against the doorjamb and gave me a heated little look. “I have to say, I like you in uniform.”
“Oh, shut it.” I rolled my eyes. There was nothing attractive about my uniform. It was basically men’s clothing on a woman.
“I’m not lying. How’s about you come up to my room for a bit, and I’ll show you how much I like it?” He paused, eyes flicking to the top of my head as he winked. “You can even leave your hat on.”
Completely against my own will, I snickered a laugh, folding my arms across my chest. “No thanks, Tom Jones.”
“I think you’ll find it was Randy Newman who penned the tune. Tom Jones did the cover,” Lee quipped.
I made a concerted effort to regain my professionalism and throw a bucket of cold water over his flirty banter. “When you see your brother, tell him to get himself down the nick to see me.”
“Fucking hell, Snap, you really are Ross Sheehan’s daughter. Growing up must have been shit for you.”
The empathy in his voice caught me off guard. I swallowed but didn’t say anything. Our gazes locked and held, something thick and unspoken passing between us. He took a step outside, past the threshold of his doorway and onto the street. I glanced down at the toes of my boots and back up again, a strand of hair falling from behind my ear. Lee’s hand reached out, as though he were about to tuck it back in, but then he froze before he could touch me. Touching a constable could technically be considered assault. And technically, I could arrest him for that. Maybe that’s why he stopped. Or maybe it was something else.
His eyes softened when he whispered, “If that cranky string of piss weren’t with you right now, it’d be a whole other ball game.”
I looked to Tony, who had just finished with his call. Lee turned and casually went back inside his house, closing the door softly behind him. Giving me a nod, Tony gestured for me to follow him back to the patrol car.
I was about to do just that when the door to the next house burst open and a little girl ran out. She was only about five or six years old, and somebody was shouting loudly at her to get back inside. I stared at her, from her unkempt brown hair to her blue eyes and ratty clothes. Her gaze was wide and full of fear. She returned my stare for just a second before she hurried to Lee’s door and began knocking furiously. The door opened and Lee reappeared, the girl instantly rushing to his side and hugging his leg. He bent down and gently petted her hair.
“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, and the girl whispered something in his ear. His expression hardened as he nodded and told her to go on inside the house. When his gaze landed on me, it was only for a second. He didn’t say a word, just stood up and closed the door over again.
There was something about the scene that caused a deep part of my heart to ache. Uncared-for children were my one true sore spot, and there was a reason for that. Seeing the girl run to Lee like he was her golden saviour made me feel things I wasn’t ready to explore. I heard somebody clomping their way down the stairs of the house the girl had fled right before a skinny woman with greasy hair and bags under eyes came out, yelling after her daughter.
“I swear to God, Billie, you better get your arse back in here before I give you something to cry about.”
She stopped in her tracks once she saw me, her eyes narrowing in anger. “What the fuck do you want, pig?”
“Was that your daughter?” I asked, clenching my fist tight. I already hated her. It wasn’t my job to hate people, but in this particular case I couldn’t seem to help it. She stepped out of her house, like she was actually considering putting it up to me. Why did crackheads always think they could take you? They had one swing in them, tops, before their energy dried up. She was pointing her finger at me now.
“That’s the problem with you lot, always sticking your oars in where they’re not wanted.”
I heard Tony getting back out of the car and making his way over to us.
“There a problem here, miss?” he asked the woman.
At the sight of my broad, six-foot-three colleague, the woman’s bravery died a quick death as she shook her head. “Nah, no problem,” she hurried to answer before going back inside her house and slamming the door.
Tony patted my shoulder. “Come on.”
Once we were back in the car and buckled up, I let out a slow breath. “Sometimes I wish I was a bloke. Nobody’s scared of a five-foot-six woman.”
“Hey, I’ve seen you spar. You could take down half the men at the station before they’ve even had a chance to blink. Everybody should be scared of you,” said Tony with a grin.
I shot him a small smile. It was true. I practiced eskrima twice a week, which kept me fit and well able to defend myself should the need arise. And in my line of work, the need usually arose.
“So, how do you know that one?” Tony went on, looking back at Lee’s house while I put the car in gear.
“My flatmate used to go out with his brother. She learned her lesson.” And he makes me feel things, my conscience added, things I have no business feeling.
Tony pursed his lips and looked out the window at the less-than-pleasing scenery. I thought where I lived was rough, but this place was pretty dire.
“I imagine she did,” he said. “Families like that, Karla, they have trouble stamped all over them.”
I hated that he was right. “Tell me about it,” I sighed, and then we headed out to deal with a traffic accident on the A10.
***
When I finally clocked out that night, I had nothing on my mind other than a nice, long soak in the tub and maybe some Chinese takeaway. Unfortunately, my happy thoughts were interrupted by Detective Inspector Katherine Jennings. If a person could be the equivalent of getting shit on by seagulls, then it was DI Jennings. I bumped into her on my way out of the station, and I mean I literally bumped right into her. Damn Lee Cross with his cheeky handsome smiles and probing eyes taking up all my thoughts.
“Watch where you’re going, Sheehan, for Christ’s sake,” she snapped.
Katherine had it in for me, big time. I knew it had something to do with an old feud between her and my dad. Apparently, he’d called her a no-account, dried-up old cunt during a particularly brutal argument when they’d been working on the same case together years ago, but if you asked me, there was more to it than that. Anyhow, thanks to my dear old dad, she now despised the very ground I walked on, and had done everything in her power to make my job difficult since the moment I started working under her.
“Sorry, ma’am, I’ll watch where I’m going next time.” My words were said plainly, with absolutely no sarcasm or sass, but Katherine had a knack for detecting aggression where there was none.
“Take that tone with me again, Constable, and I’ll have you transferred to some shithole district in the back arse of nowhere before you even have time to go crying to Daddy.”
Not once in my life had I ever gone “crying to Daddy,” but I let her have the final word. It was the only way to keep from incurring more of her wrath. Nodding, I internalised my frustration and quietly turned on my heel, continuing on my way.
When I got home, I found Alexis lying face down on the couch while a soap opera played on the TV. I didn’t know whether to laugh or worry. This moping behaviour had been a regular occurrence with her ever since the love of her life had disappeared off the face of the planet. Long story short, she’d had an affair with her boss, and he’d done a runner after beating the living daylights out of his own father, almost killing him.
Never let it be said
that our lives were uneventful.
“Man, the couch must smell really good,” I commented dryly as I came in and set the bag of Chinese takeout on the coffee table. “Can I get a whiff? I love a good couch-sniffing session.”
“I’m not sniffing the couch,” Alexis whined before sitting up and shooting me the stink-eye. “I was trying to convey my complete and utter sense of loneliness and despair. You know, like performance art, but shittier.”
I laughed and gave her shoulder a small squeeze. Her heart had been through the ringer the past few months, so I could understand where she was coming from. “Seriously, though, how are you feeling?”
“Crap, like usual.”
“I’ve always loved you for your honesty, you know that?” I got a hint of a smile out of her as her eyes wandered to the bag.
“And I’ve always loved you because you’re the kind of class act who brings food home after a shift. Can I?”
“Have at it.”
She picked up the bag and brought it over to the kitchen, finding plates and dishing out the chow mein. I kicked off my boots and went into my bedroom to change out of my uniform. When I returned Alexis was back on the couch, digging into her food while a plate had been set out for me.
“So, how was work?” she asked between mouthfuls.
“It was fine until I bumped into DI Jennings on my way home. I swear, she has this way of draining happiness out of me like nobody else.” I made the decision not to tell Alexis about my run-in with Lee, and I wasn’t quite sure why.
She held her fork in mid-air and let out a long sigh. “I’m telling you, Karla, you need to close tabs on this bitch. Otherwise, she’s just going to keep on pushing until you snap, and then she’ll have a real reason to fire you.”
I stared at her. “Close tabs?”
She stared back at me. “You know, like on the computer.”
I failed to suppress a chuckle. “I know what it means, Lexie. I’ve just never heard it used quite in that context before.”
“Well, you’ve heard it now. You need to shut her down. You’ve never done anything to warrant her behaviour, and it gets on my tits that you’re just sitting back and taking it. No friend of mine takes shit.”
I chuckled some more. She narrowed her gaze. I sighed.
“Look, I get where you’re coming from, but I just feel like my dad did something really horrible to her that nobody else knows about. I wouldn’t put it past him. I mean, she’s hardly a ray of sunshine with everyone else, but with me it’s real hatred. You don’t feel that level of vitriol toward someone without good reason.”
“You should ask your dad about it. Get it all out in the open.”
“Um, have you met my father lately? He’s hardly the sharing kind.”
Alexis shot me an understanding frown, and we finished our food in companionable silence. I was still thinking about Dad later on as I ran a bath and climbed in for a long soak. Both my parents were born and raised in North Belfast during the height of the Troubles. Let’s just say, being a Protestant in Northern Ireland during the 1960s and ’70s did not equal a harmonious existence. My dad worked for the PSNI up until the mid-eighties before being offered a job with the Metropolitan Police here in London. I was born about two years after the move, the only child of a couple where the power mechanics were greatly uneven.
My father was six foot four, lean and mean, with brown hair and blue eyes. My mother was five foot nothing, small and timid, with red hair and brown eyes. At five foot six, tough but sensitive, with red hair and blue eyes, I was an even mix of the both of them.
My mother was my father’s doormat, and the sad thing was that she seemed quite happy to continue in that way. Never in my life could I remember a time when I wanted to be like her. And never in my life could I remember a time when I wanted to be like my dad. I know, funny that I say it, since I seemingly followed in his footsteps and joined the police. The thing is, I never joined the police to please him. I joined the police because I wanted to help people, but more importantly, I joined to prove him wrong.
As a kid I was a tomboy, idolising characters like Sarah Connor and Ellen Ripley, yet every day I’d have to sit around and listen to my dad say stuff like, They shouldn’t let women on the force, they’re too weak-willed, and, What’s the point of a female police officer? Strength-wise, she’ll never be able to take down a man.
At the same time I had to deal with his constant criticisms of both me and Mum, and somehow that transformed into a deep-seated need to do everything in my power to prove my worth. The only problem with that? Katherine Jennings hated my guts, and as long as she did, I was never going to make sergeant. Seven years on the force and I was still a lowly constable. Needless to say, Dad was over the fucking moon that I’d never managed to rise in rank. It proved him right.
Every time I went to dinner at my parents’ house, I had to listen to him go on and on about how I should just quit my job and go do something less hazardous for a woman, like say, become a waitress or a florist. I swear, one of these days I wasn’t going to hold back the tirade of venom that had been piling up inside me for years. One of these days I was going to let him have all of it.
Taking a deep breath and sinking into the bubbles, I tried to rid my thoughts of my father and think of something more relaxing. Somehow, Lee’s face flashed in my mind, which got my blood up in a very different way. I couldn’t win. Involuntarily, a tiny laugh escaped me as I thought of what my father would think if I brought Lee home with me for dinner some evening. And you know, it’d almost be worth it just to see the look on his face, to see that vein in his forehead throb, the one that looked like Vesuvius ready to erupt whenever something pissed him off.
Closing my eyes, I slid farther into the bath, dunking my head under the water as I remembered the first time I met Lee.
“You got a boyfriend?” he asked, hands braced casually on the metal end of my shopping trolley. He had really intense eyes, and the way the muscles in his forearms flexed was a little bit mesmerising.
“That’s none of your business,” I replied, trying to focus on the shelved packages in front of me.
“You act like you’ve got a boyfriend, or are all cops this uptight?”
A small laugh escaped me. “Look, you’re barking up the wrong tree and I’ve got groceries to shop for, so could you please leave me to it?”
He leaned a fraction closer. “How long have you known Alexis? She never mentioned you while she and Stu were together.”
Cocking an eyebrow, I replied, “Hmm, I wonder why that is? People don’t generally mention the fact that they have friends in law enforcement to someone like you.”
I instantly regretted how judgmental I sounded, but it was the truth. Lee had “dodgy” stamped all over him, from the tattoos to the wiser-than-he-pretends-to-be gleam in his eye. I’d met blokes like him before, usually while I was working. They’d have your wallet and phone from your pocket before you ever realised you were a few hundred quid lighter.
The curve to his lips was at odds with the hardness that suddenly marked his expression. “Someone like me?”
“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know you.”
“Yeah, you don’t.”
“And I don’t want to.”
He let go of the trolley and came around to stand before me, whispering, “Now, we both know that’s a lie.” I looked up at him from beneath my lashes, sucking in a breath at his proximity. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne, and I suddenly realised I was enjoying his closeness. Standing back, I shot him a hard stare that told him not to push his luck. He didn’t take the warning, and instead reached out to pull a strand of my hair between his fingers.
“I fucking love this hair. You’re gorgeous. Let me take you out.”
So, he was one of those men, the kind who had a thing for redheads. Before I had a chance to respond, I was saved by Alexis, who came up behind Lee and slapped him cheekily on the arse. God, I loved her. Somet
imes it was great having a friend who knew exactly when you needed saving.
I rose out of the water, inhaling a deep breath, and tried to shake my thoughts of Lee. Thinking about a man I could never have was a waste of time. So, doing my best to clear my mind, I endeavoured to enjoy the rest of my bath, minus the inner ramblings.
Two
“Getting high off his own supply. Bloody typical,” my workmate Steve tutted as he recounted the story of a dealer he’d busted the day before.
I wasn’t too fond of Steve, mainly because he was fond enough of himself for the both of us, and his alpha-male braggadocio tended to rub me up the wrong way. It was a Saturday morning, and I was stationed with him, Tony, and another constable, Keira, outside Upton Park, where a football match was to take place between Arsenal and Spurs.
We were mostly there for crowd control, but also because of the old rivalry between the teams that meant there was a small chance of trouble after the game. Football hooliganism was a real pet peeve of mine. These people would fight to the point of seriously injuring one another, all in aid of some perceived feud between sides. It was ridiculous.
“It couldn’t have been very hard booking him, then, if he was high,” I said in an effort to take Steve down a peg or two. I got my argumentative side from my dad. It was a flaw, sure, but at least I could own up to it.
My workmate eyed me, bristling at my comment. “He was on cocaine, Karla. Have you ever met a cokehead right after he’s snorted a few lines? Fucking mental cases.”
“She’s met plenty,” Tony put in calmly, and I could tell he was trying to pre-emptively defuse any bickering between Steve and me, ever the father of the group. “We all have. Saturday nights on the beat are hardly a cakewalk.”
“True that,” said Keira past a yawn. She’d had a late shift last night, and I could tell she was exhausted. I’d wanted to let her take the morning off, but the stadium was at full capacity, so we needed all hands on deck.
We were stationed close to the entrance, where the Arsenal fans were queuing up, a sea of red and white jerseys. I was on autopilot, scanning the crowds for any signs of disruption, when I caught sight of a familiar face. It had been over two weeks since I’d paid a visit to his house, and I really shouldn’t have been feeling butterflies right then, but I couldn’t seem to prevent them.