Page 120 of First Blood
It had been two weeks since he’d walked out of this house in a fit of rage and there had been some surprises for him in that time.
Little had he known how his old team felt about him. He had thought they were a close-knit bonded group yet not one of them had called him since Gary’s outburst to declare their disagreement with his opinion. Which told him one thing. They all felt the same way.
Initially he had put it down to jealousy and there was still a part of him that thought they were envious of his skills, but despite his best efforts some of the things Gary had said had stayed with him. Maybe he did try and pass along jobs he found less interesting and perhaps he didn’t make as many coffees as the next guy, but he was a damn good detective and he knew it.
Other surprises had come from his new boss who shouted him a night at the Travelodge. He understood that she didn’t want the embarrassment of one of her team members spending another night on the car park but in truth it was the best night of sleep he’d had in weeks. No lumpy sofas, no musty, dubious smelling pillows pulled from the back of airing cupboards, no angry partners giving him shit in the morning. Just a hot shower and a decent breakfast which had set him up for the day.
Unlike the night he’d spent at Lou’s. As he remembered it the colour flooded into his cheeks and he wished he could take that back. The sour feeling returned to his stomach every time he thought about what he’d done. As Gary had pointed out, he wasn’t averse to using people but he had treated Lou in the worst possibly way. He had danced all over her emotions to get a bed for the night. It wasn’t the proudest moment of his week. Neither was his attempt to belittle DS Bryant at the beginning of the case.
In truth, he still thought the bloke was a bit of a plodder but the man had been on his knees with a knife at his throat earlier that evening and still come back to work to interview the culprit. Fair play to him. Dawson had changed his opinion of the man just a little bit.
Even the young, green detective constable wasn’t as bad as he’d originally thought. A couple of times during the week she’d shown a bit more spirit than her continually beaming face reflected and he liked it. He had no time for pushovers or doormats.
But his most drastic change in opinion was for the boss. Initially, he’d thought he could play her, outwit her, find her weaknesses to exploit and aggravate like scratching an angry boil. He now knew that there wasn’t a morning he could get up early enough to pull that one off. She had surprised him at every turn. She’d remained silent when he’d expected rage. She’d blown up at him when he’d expected silence and she had paid for a bed for the night when he’d expected to be thrown off the team.
But right before she’d headed off to prepare for interview, she’d hesitated beside his desk.
‘Good work on the nursery rhymes, Dawson.’
He was glad she’d gone by the time the smile had formed on his face.
It was then that he’d realised this wouldn’t be a bad place to settle for a while. Not that he’d get a chance to try it, he reasoned. The boss would be summoned to meet DCI Woodward on Monday morning for an evaluation of the team. He knew full well that he would be transferred to another squad. She wouldn’t keep him and he couldn’t blame her. The work on the nursery rhymes was too little too late. He felt genuinely sorry. It could have been a good team to be a part of but he’d shot himself in both feet.
And was he about to do that again? Was he really going to base his future on whether the downstairs light came on? Was he truly going to wait for fate to decide if he and Ally had a chance?
No, he wasn’t.
He got out of the car and let himself into the house.
As he entered the lounge he knew she was already sitting there. In the dark. Waiting to see what he would do. Come in or run away. Again.
‘You’re up?’ he said, switching on the light.
She sat at one end of the sofa, dressed only in an ivory dressing gown, her legs curled to the side. Her blonde hair was ruffled from the pillow, her face clear of make-up. His heart missed a beat. It was how he loved her the most.
She said nothing. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him.
‘Ally, I—’
‘What are you doing here, Kev?’ she asked, her eyes full of emotion. He tried to read them all, anger, disappointment, regret and something else he couldn’t read. ‘You run out of places to crash for the night?’
Any honesty there would not help the cause.
‘I wanted to see you,’ he offered, sounding lame to his own ears.
‘Why? Do you want to carry on the argument we were having? You remember accusing me of trying to trap you into marriage right after you asked me if I’d deliberately forgotten to take my pill?’
Ah, that’s the emotion he was missing; hurt.
Regardless, he felt his own jaw tightening at her tone. This wasn’t how he’d imagined his homecoming.
‘Give me some latitude here, Ally. I was in shock at the—’
‘I’d known myself for twenty minutes. I hadn’t even had chance to work out how I felt about it myself before you launched into attack mode. We were supposed to talk about it, share how we felt, discuss all the options, but instead you blamed me and then walked out.’
‘I’m here now,’ he said, trying to keep his temper. Did she not see what he was trying to do?
‘Don’t do me any favours, Kev,’ she snapped. ‘We don’t need you in our lives if this is how you’re going to react.’
