The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(78)

‘I never gave him the opportunity.’

‘Did he even try?’

‘Not so much as a whisper.’

‘You had no inkling?’

‘None . . .’ O’Neil choked on her words but her eyes were dry. ‘Over dinner the night before he said I was the best thing that ever happened to him. He gave me a Cartier necklace to wear on our wedding day and we toasted our life together. “Just the two of us,” he said. He wanted my exclusive attention before he had to share me with friends and family. I was well and truly conned.’

‘Stop, Eloise—’

‘No, I want to tell you.’ There was the hint of a wry smile forming. ‘One lucky Oxfam shopper may be wearing a Cartier without even realizing. Stephen would be a bit cross if he knew.’

‘He’s a fool.’

‘Makes two of us. I was heading for a car crash and didn’t see it coming . . . can you imagine how that made me feel?’ Her mobile rang a second time. It was an unwelcome intrusion, cutting their conversation dead, breaking the connection they were so close to making.

Ryan hated being contactable 24/7.

‘It’s Grace, I’d better take it.’ O’Neil pressed to receive the call and listened for a full half-minute, a frown developing. ‘OK . . . yes, there’s a reason for that.’ There was a long pause during which her eyes found his, her intense expression implying news of some sort. Not the good kind, if Ryan was reading her correctly. ‘I’ll explain when we return to base . . . yes, he’s with me now. I’ll tell him, thanks for letting me know.’ A flash of temper. ‘I said so, didn’t I? Don’t question my authority, Grace. We’ll discuss it when I get there.’ Another pause. Eloise climbed down. ‘Yes, I will. You too.’ She hung up. ‘We’ve had contact from Spielberg.’

‘Another scene?’

‘I don’t know. She won’t talk to anyone but you.’





44


Despite a severe weather warning set to cause travel disruption, their flight left Copenhagen on schedule, touching down at Newcastle International at five minutes to two, local time. Newman was waiting in the short-stay car park, leaning against his car. He’d driven out to collect them, leaving Grace holding the fort. Concerned that she’d been working too hard, he’d begged her to ease up. She’d refused. Marriage or no marriage, there was no taming the pit bull.

Ryan promised to have a word.

‘Good luck with that,’ was all Newman said in reply. He seemed preoccupied.

Ryan glanced in the rear-view, catching O’Neil’s eye. ‘Working too hard’ was a euphemism for something far more serious. They both knew what it was and had discussed it on the flight. O’Neil would deal with it during their debrief later. She expected fireworks and had voiced the unsettling notion that another DVD was about to drop in their laps.

With a feeling of foreboding, Ryan waited for the right moment to approach Grace. After her words with O’Neil on the phone the night before, the retired detective was keen to clear the air and brief them on developments, hinting that there was much to discuss. Ryan could tell she was itching to get started. He wished he felt the same but the atmosphere in the room gave him a sense of foreboding.

‘Miss me?’ he whispered.

Grace shot him a dirty look. ‘No.’

‘Not even a smidge?’

‘You missed your chance, mate. I’m taken.’ Grace always hid behind humour when she was mad about something. Avoiding eye contact, she glanced across the room, her focus on Newman. He’d just sat down at a computer terminal and was logging on. Notwithstanding her present tetchy mood, Ryan could tell that she was smitten, impossibly in love with the spook and upset that they had argued.

‘How’s it working out with Frank?’

‘What’s with the small talk?’ Grace turned, a scowl on her face. ‘If you must know, it was nice to have him to myself for a day or two. We stayed over last night and I screwed his brains out on your bed. Hope you don’t mind.’ The smile on her lips never made it to her eyes. ‘Thought I’d better tell you before the boss asks how your laundry made it to the washer on its own.’

The comment reminded Ryan of his conversation with Caroline. When he’d called to tell her he wouldn’t be able to pay her a visit, she’d volunteered to drop by with a change of clothes for him. He glanced at his watch, hoping she’d arrive before Spielberg made contact. He needed her take on the call.

Grace was daydreaming again, her focus back on Newman. Ryan envied their relationship. Solid as a rock, it had stood the test of time, despite long periods of heartbreak and separation.

‘Feel free to use the bed anytime,’ he said. ‘How could I object? You’re practically on honeymoon.’

‘We’ll always be on honeymoon.’ She softened, her words laced with regret. ‘We have years to make up for. I only wish we hadn’t wasted so much time.’

‘Be grateful, Grace. It might never have happened.’

‘I’m still pinching myself that it has.’ She flicked hard eyes towards O’Neil, who was standing on the far side of the room, engaged on the phone, uptight and on edge. Whoever she was talking to, it wasn’t going well. Grace was almost tapping her foot in frustration. ‘Is the boss still giving you the cold shoulder?’