The Fourth Friend (DI Jackman & DS Evans #3)(9)

‘Exactly. I didn’t know it then. I just did it because it was Matt’s dream. But he’s gone, Marie. From the moment I crossed that line. The others still come, but Matt isn’t with them anymore.’

‘And you think that you’ve somehow freed him by doing this for him?’

‘I do.’

Marie said nothing. She wondered what Laura Archer would make of it. Survivor’s guilt, she supposed. Carter was trying to make amends. When she thought about it, it actually made a lot of sense. Carter had freed himself of his guilt about Matt. It was actually bloody great!

‘So who is next?’ she said.

Carter answered swiftly. ‘I think it should be Ray. After all, it was all about him, wasn’t it? The best stag do ever?’ There was a catch in his voice.

Marie felt a rush of intense sadness. She cared for Carter in a way that was almost impossible to explain. There was something intensely vulnerable and sad about him that evoked the deepest emotions. Marie knew that she would lay down her life for Carter McLean, just as she would for Jackman. Carter would do the same for her. He had already stopped a wicked blade that might have ended Bill’s life even sooner than it had been. In his turn, Bill had defended Carter against a crackhead with a gun. Not that Carter had ever been an angel. Gary had said that Carter was a risk taker. He was right. Carter bent rules and pushed boundaries to get a good collar, and thought nothing of it. He believed that the bad guys should always go down, one way or another. Yes, Carter was a chancer, but Marie had seen the lonely little boy inside, one with something to prove.

What could she do to help him right now, other than support him? His wounds had healed and he was physically fit. On the surface he was the same as ever, apart from a few small signs, like claustrophobia. Carter’s most damaged part was hidden from the outside world. Only she and Laura Archer knew.

‘So, about Ray?’ Do you know what you can do to help him?’

Carter grunted. ‘Hmm. I’m not sure yet, but I’ll ask him when I see him next.’

*

Images of Carter shooting the breeze with dead men banished sleep completely. By four thirty, Marie had raided the fridge twice. She was on the verge of waking Gary and telling him everything, but stopped herself. Carter was her problem and hers alone.

And what had he meant by smelling them burn? Carter was outside the plane when it caught fire. He was unconscious when he was rescued. He could not have smelled their flesh burning, so what was that all about?

Marie took a loaf from the bread bin, hacked off a thick slice and slathered on a thick dollop of peanut butter.

She took her snack out to the conservatory and flopped into one of the rattan chairs. Rover, her elderly tabby cat, joined her. Rover was a great listener, never complained and rarely interrupted. She told him of her decision. She wasn’t going to shoulder Carter’s revelation alone. She wouldn’t burden Jackman, though. He was in the middle of a high-profile inquiry. Tomorrow she would book an appointment to see Laura Archer.

Marie swallowed the last of her third pre-dawn snack, and returned to bed . . . to an hour’s restless sleep and indigestion.

*

Carter was having an even worse night. At four fifteen, he pulled on his running clothes and left the apartment.

He ran towards the estuary along a narrow towpath. In the fleeting light of the moon breaking through cloud, the river snaked across the landscape like a great slick of oil. His feet pounded the riverbank in darkness, but he knew the route well. On nights like this, with the moon to guide him, he liked to take the longer circuit along the sea bank and the fen lanes, and back to his home via an alleyway that skirted the fishing boats. It was a gruelling run, but it was better than lying in bed waiting for some new nightmare.

He thought about Marie. She was looking tired these days, and he feared he was the cause. He had never set out to use her this way, but she was the best listener he’d ever met, and endlessly patient. Best of all, Marie didn’t judge him. He wondered what he would do without her. How did she put up with him? Carter knew he had changed. He hated his new impatient, volatile self, but he couldn’t control it. He prayed that she wouldn’t give up on him. After Bill had died, he and Marie had become close confidantes. After all, Bill had been very special to both of them. But now he was putting too much strain on her, and he hated himself for doing it.

Carter slowed his pace and looked around. He had arrived at the junction of the sea bank and Back Lane. That meant stopping to negotiate a big, heavy old gate and an ancient cattle grid. You had to be careful here. An awkward step, a slip on the wide metal bars of the grid could bring about a broken ankle, and there was no way of getting an ambulance down to this stretch of the marsh.

The acrid stench of burning flesh filled his nostrils. He drew in a breath and looked around for his friends.

‘If you keep exercising like this and get no rest, you’ll keel over one of these days,’ murmured Tom in his ear.

‘Yeah, not good, mate. You’re living on your nerves,’ added Ray.

Their three dark figures were standing close to his shoulder.

‘You don’t want to crash and burn, do you?’ whispered Jack.

Carter swallowed. For the first time, their presence frightened him. He took a step back. He’d never felt like this before. ‘Guys? Are you mad at me?’

Tom sighed. ‘Of course not, mate. We just get kind of homesick sometimes.’