Private London

Chapter 46

Alison Chambers strode forcefully across the car park towards her parked car.

There was very little swish to her hips this time, although her hair tossed a little angrily from side to side. I couldn’t help watching her and grinned a little guiltily as Kirsty came out through the entrance doors and up to me.

‘Enjoying the view?’ she said curtly.

I was standing in the car park of Paddington Green police station, having had my belt and shoelaces returned to me and been released some ten minutes earlier.

‘Isn’t it time you let it go?’ I asked.

‘More to the point, isn’t it time you did?’ she snapped back.

I sighed. I had no burning desire to have another ride on that particular carousel. ‘Thanks,’ I said simply, instead of pushing it.

‘Thanks for what?’

‘For not wanting to arrest me.’

‘I’d watch your back if I were you. DSI Harrington is spitting feathers in there.’

‘Sorry to ruin his day.’

‘I mean it, Dan. He’s got a serious hard-on for you.’

‘All I care about is finding that little girl.’

Even though I had seen the recent pictures of Hannah and the footage of her dressed up like some kind of sick Bettie Page caricature, I still thought of her as the young girl who had discussed F. Scott Fitzgerald with me on that flight not so very long ago.

‘I know you do.’

I looked across at my ex-wife. For a moment there I thought I had detected a little tenderness in her voice.

Of course I had. Kirsty didn’t hate the world. She just hated me. She wanted Hannah Shapiro found every bit as much as I did. Policing wasn’t just a job to her. It was her vocation. Her life. I felt the familiar stab of guilt I always felt when she showed her softer side.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘If I could go back in time.’

‘It’s not your fault, Dan. You didn’t kidnap the girl, did you?’

‘I wasn’t talking about that…’

She held up a hand to stop me saying any more.

‘Yeah, yeah. I know what you were talking about but I don’t want to hear it. Not any more. Too much water. Too many bridges.’

I nodded, reminded of a line from an old situation-comedy theme tune. ‘What became of the people we used to be?’ I looked at Kirsty, remembered the hurt I had caused her, knew I could still cause her when she looked at me with those green eyes that a man could lose himself in, and felt as low as she usually made me feel.

A honk sounded from across the car park as a black BMW 4x4 pulled in and approached. Sam Riddel, my ride back. I realised I was a little disappointed that he had arrived so quickly. And that thought scared me more than anything that had already happened that weekend.

‘What I want to know is…’ said Kirsty, snapping me out of my reverie.

‘Go on?’ I prompted.

‘How in the name of the crucified and risen saviour did you get the Home Office to spring you?’