Page 69 of Death on the Rocks

“What’s your favourite animal?” Kit asked.

“A sloth.”

Kit smiled lightly. “Do they look anything like giraffes?”

“No,” the boy said.

“How about if you squint? I’ll bet they look like giraffes then.”

The boy stared up at Kit. “I don’t think so.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” Lily said, exiting the train and walking around the front of it. “Thanks again for the ride, and for lunch… and everything.”

“I should thank you,” he said. “For keeping us all safe with your detective work.”

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“Are you kidding? Marc would have got away scot-free if it weren’t for you. You were amazing.”

“Thank you,” she said, despite feeling that he was giving her too much credit.

In a display of affection that she was getting used to, he opened his arms and wrapped her in a hug. Not the perfunctory kind, but a tight embrace that felt as though he was in no rush at all, despite the queue of children that had gathered behind him.

When they broke apart, Lily felt a hollowness in her stomach. She barely knew Kit, so she knew it wasn’t really saying goodbyeto him that was the issue. It was that she suddenly felt her life was full of goodbyes and she was sick of it. Tomorrow she had to go back to her cold, empty flat and her empty life. The thought filled her with dread.

“If you can’t make a sloth,” the boy said loudly, “can you make a hermit crab? I really like them too.”

Kit grimaced in Lily’s direction. “I reckon I can make a sloth after all.” He flashed Lily a wink and pulled a long yellow balloon from a container in the train.

Smiling, Lily backed away. Once again, she checked her phone, but there was still nothing from PC Grainger. With nothing else to do, she headed back to the bed and breakfast, feeling suddenly exhausted.

Chapter Forty-Four

FRIDAY

Walking backinto work the following day, Flynn felt he was holding his breath to see what mood Sergeant Proctor was in, and whether he really might be thawing towards him.

The sergeant smiled at him, which was definitely progress.

“I was just thinking about you,” he said in a tone that gave nothing away. “I reckon you’ve earned yourself some holiday time.”

It was about the last thing Flynn expected to hear. Even though he’d been covering for his colleagues for the past week, he hadn’t expected the sergeant to acknowledge that. He had a sudden rush of hope that the next five months might actually pass pleasantly.

“Thanks.” A spark of anticipation hit him. If he had time off, he could get back to civilised society for a while. A couple of nights out with his mates would put everything into perspective. “If I escort the prisoner over to the mainland, I could take a few days over there.”

“No,” Sergeant Proctor mused. “PC Hill is going to take him.”

That made no sense. If Flynn had time off and planned to get back home anyway––

“I’ll need you on the island.” The smile his sergeant offered turned to a smirk. “With PC Hill away, you’ll need to be around in case there are any emergencies.”

Flynn frowned, knowing how slim the chances of an emergency were. “But––”

“No buts. You enjoy your time off. I’ll see you in a week.” Casually, he turned and walked in the direction of the cells.

“What am I supposed to do with time off if I can’t leave the island?” Flynn called. He realised exactly what the sergeant was up to. Time off wasn’t a reward; it was a punishment.

Sergeant Proctor turned back and sneered. “My first suggestion would be to go home and get yourself out of that uniform.” He didn’t add that he didn’t deserve to wear it, but the inference was loud and clear.

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