Page 25 of Watching You
She shrugged and toyed with the sponge on her plate. ‘I have to fill the hours when I’m not at work. Plus, I find it hard to sleep. If you hear me walking around at night, don’t be surprised, but I’ll do my best not to wake you. Your bedroom’s at the back of the house where it’s quietest.’
Lively found it necessary to suddenly concentrate very hard on his plate.
‘Sure, yup, right.’
There was a long pause.
Beth closed her eyes. ‘Oh.’ It was her turn to blush. ‘Did you think—’
‘No, not at all. I’d never presume. We just hadn’t discussed it and I felt awkward for asking. The back of the house sounds perfect. And I don’t sleep all that much either, so you’ll not be disturbing me.’
Beth laughed so hard she had to put her plate down. ‘Aren’t we a pair of awkward dafties? Embarrassed to talk about such things at our age. I didn’t think we were ready for anything more intimate yet given that we’ve still to perfect the kissing stage, and your neck’s not going to be up for much for a month or so.’ She reached out and took his hand gently. ‘I’d like to look after you, Sam, if you’ll stop being such a stubborn old goat and let me.’
‘I will, Beth. In fact I’d like that very much.’ He stroked theback of her hand with his thumb. ‘I was looking at your photos earlier. Is that your daughter with you? She’s the spitting image of you.’
She slipped her hand slowly from Lively’s and wrapped her arms around her waist.
‘It is,’ she murmured.
‘Does she live locally? I’d love to meet her. What’s her name?’
Beth took a breath in through her nose and let it out through her mouth.
‘You can’t, I’m afraid. That’s Molly. Mol to her friends. She’s gone.’
Lively put his own plate down, the sponge cake forming an unswallowable lump in his mouth. ‘How long ago?’
‘It’s been more than a year now. I should have told you before, there’s just never really a right time to announce something like that.’
‘Was it an accident or was she ill?’ he asked softly.
‘There were pills involved. A lot of them. I hope you won’t find it too disturbing but you should know there’s an urn in my bedroom with her name on. Well, at least that’s over. So you see, I invited you for my own sake as much as yours. Perhaps the company will do us both good while you recuperate.’
Sam Lively, Police Scotland’s notoriously grumpy, most irascible detective, found that he needed to look away and blink hard to clear the blurriness in his eyes. Dr Beth Waterfall was more than he deserved, and the sort of woman he’d long since given up any hope of meeting. And there she was, putting her faith in him, a man who had consistently screwed up every close relationship he’d ever formed. She needed someone consistent, more open. She needed a man she’d be proud to be seen with, who could entertain her with clever conversation over the Sunday papers. He wasn’t that person. He never could be.
He opened his mouth to destroy the thing that had been offered to him. He would leave straight away, go back to his own place, get out of her way. It was good that she was trying to move forward after such a devastating loss. It was extraordinary that she hadn’t simply given up on life completely. And now here he was, catching criminals and being sarcastic his only two real skills in life.
‘I’m going to look after you, Beth,’ he said.
The words were not the ones his brain had been preparing. They weren’t the retreat he had planned. He had no idea where they came from.
Beth Waterfall, slowly, carefully – mindful of his wound – sank against his good shoulder as Lively realised that for once, when it mattered most, he’d managed to speak with his heart instead of his head.
He closed his eyes and held her.
The man watching the house from the car across the street closed his eyes too, and let his imagination run wild.
Chapter 22
6 June
Connie walked into the private hire pub basement first, followed by Baarda, Salter and some additional muscle. Outside on Craigentinny Road, a squad of uniformed officers were poised to help if it was needed, but more importantly, they were armed with video cameras to capture images for facial recognition. It was time to figure out who Dale Abnay’s friends were. Police Scotland’s online intelligence service had confirmed that, unlike most incel groups, WATFOR had a chapter that met once a month in person, in Edinburgh.
There was some American rock playing in the background and a bar offering only beer, whisky or Irn-Bru. A pool table was in use at the far end, but most people were sitting around tables, talking and drinking. Along one wall were three dartboards upon which had been stuck posters of naked women, with men proving just how powerful they were by throwing darts at them from a few feet away. Connie didn’t know whether to laugh or yawn.
In the centre was an area of clear floor that had been reservedfor the evening’s speaker, a man who’d been campaigning for the reversal of the law that made it illegal for a man to rape his wife. The basement was rammed. Connie headed for the centre of the room as Baarda requested that the music be shut off.
In response, every man present stood at once, and the sound of the chairs on the concrete floor was the world’s worst orchestra tuning up. Connie made a show of protecting her ears.
