Not Dead Yet

83

At 1.30 a.m. Roy Grace, snuggled up against Cleo, was woken by a solid kick in his ribs.

‘Ouch!’ he said, for an instant thinking it was Cleo giving him a dig with her elbow, which she did on the rare occasions when he snored. But she seemed to be sound asleep. Then he felt another kick.

It was the baby.

Then another kick.

Without moving, Cleo murmured, ‘I think Bump’s practising for the London Marathon. He hasn’t stopped.’

Grace felt another sudden movement but gentler this time. He said quietly, ‘Hey, Bump, do you mind, I need some sleep! We all need to get some sleep, okay?’

‘Not sure I can remember what sleep is any more,’ Cleo said. ‘I’ve got terrible heartburn and I’ve been to the loo four times.’

‘I didn’t hear you.’

‘You were well away.’

‘I was? It didn’t feel like it. I don’t feel like I’ve slept a wink, either.’ He kissed her on the cheek.

‘I’m wired,’ she said. ‘I’m so wide awake I could do some studying.’

‘Don’t, try to rest.’

‘I can’t take sleeping pills. I can’t have a drink. God, you’re so lucky you’re a man!’ Then she felt the baby move again, and she smiled. She placed Roy’s hand on her abdomen. ‘It’s amazing, isn’t it? That’s a mini us in there! I definitely think it’s a boy. Everyone’s telling me I look like I’m carrying a boy. You’d prefer a boy, wouldn’t you?’

‘All I want is for you and our child to be healthy. I’ll love it just as much whether it’s a boy or a girl.’

She slipped out of bed and padded to the loo. He lay there, his mind a tangle of thoughts suddenly. The enormity of what it meant to bring a child into the world. And tragic Myles Royce – an example of what could happen to a child.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the case. With every major enquiry, he always fretted that he might be overlooking something vital and obvious. What was he overlooking here?

‘I’ve found several baby car seats on the internet,’ Cleo said, returning from the loo.

‘Car seats?’

‘We need one.’

‘Of course.’ Yet another thing to add to the never-ending list of stuff they had to have. And never-ending cost.

‘Do you think we should get a new one, or buy one on eBay – be a fraction of the cost.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘What are we talking about in potential savings?’

‘One hundred and fifty pounds, maybe.’

‘That’s a lot of money.’

‘It is.’

Back in his days in uniform he had attended some terrible car crashes. One he had never forgotten, where a baby, strapped into a car seat that had sheared from its mountings in a head-on collision, smashed into the back of his mother’s head, breaking her neck and killing her instantly and then hitting the front windscreen.

‘Let me ask you a question, darling,’ he said. ‘If you were going to jump out of an aeroplane, wearing a parachute, would you rather know that the parachute you had on your back had been bought because it was the cheapest available on the market, or because it was the best?’

She squeezed his hand. ‘The best, of course.’

‘So there’s your answer. We’re talking about our baby’s life. It wouldn’t be much of a bargain if it turned out to have stress fractures from involvement in a previous accident.’

‘Being a detective makes you so suspicious, doesn’t it?’

‘I was born suspicious,’ he said. ‘Maybe I have my dad to thank. But that’s my view.’

He lapsed back into his own troubled thoughts. Amis Smallbone’s intention to rob Gaia. Well, good luck, sunshine. No one was going to get past the goons guarding her suite. He’d notified Chief Superintendent Barrington, and the number of officers guarding her had been increased as an extra precaution.

Then his brain switched back to Myles Royce. At least now they had a name. But one thing was going around and around in his mind. Royce had been a Gaia fan. Gaia was now here in Brighton.

Someone had tried to kill her in Los Angeles.

She’d been sent death threats through an anonymous email account.

The LAPD had the suspect in custody. They were convinced they had the perp.

Was he reading too much into Royce being a Gaia fan?

Every major crime enquiry was a hugely complex puzzle. Thousands of pieces to be fitted painstakingly together. Except, when the puzzle was complete, there were never happily smiling faces. Just the grim satisfaction of knowing they had achieved justice for the victim, and possibly some closure for the family.

Provided of course he got a conviction.

‘There was a documentary on the box tonight about Gaia,’ Cleo murmured suddenly.

‘There was? Did you watch it?’

‘Not really my thing, but I recorded it, in case it was helpful for you.’

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ll watch it tomorrow. You’re an angel.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘Never forget that, Detective Superintendent!’

He kissed her, then slowly fell into troubled sleep.