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Max just shrugged, and yawned deeply, fatigue descending on him all of a sudden.
‘Max, are you okay?’
‘I’m just tired, but I don’t buy it for a second. Hardies don’t help cops. They don’t grass. Not ever,’ he said, looking up at his wife, who had unbuttoned her blouse and was turned to him with concern in her beautiful eyes, her choppy hair, all tousled. A sudden wave of desire washed over Max, and he took Katie’s hand in his, kissed it and gripped it tightly, moving closer until they were inches apart.
‘Again, Craigie? Even with your daft hours, we’ve been at it regularly, no wonder you’re always tired,’ she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Max returned her smile and kissed her again. She encircled his waist with her toned arms, and they fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, their lips locked onto each other’s.
‘Dippy man, look at me. Look at me, pal, stay awake. You’re gonna go home, back to the shite-hole you live in, bud. You’re gonna be good, man.’
Dippy opened his eyes, and his pinprick pupils were full of confusion as the medic tried to get a line into his arm to replace the fluids that were still flowing out of him onto the sand. ‘Max …’
‘Dippy?’
‘Max …’ His voice dropped an octave and was only just above a hoarse whisper.
‘Come on, look at me, pal.’
Dippy’s eyes glazed and the faraway look became an empty one. Something changed. A light went out.
Max yelped as he was jerked into consciousness. The dream ripped him from sleep, like being violently pulled from a deep, black hole. The smell of the Afghan desert was redolent in his nostrils, the stench of Dippy’s blood that was congealing in the hard, desiccated dirt. The colours were vivid, almost technicolour in intensity and his heart was beating rapidly, a cold, mucky sweat lathering his body.
‘Max, you’re okay, babe. It’s just the dream.’ Katie threw her arm across his chest, and stroked his forehead, the sweat beading on his skin.
Max inhaled, deeply, the only light in the room coming from the digital clock, which try as he might he couldn’t focus on, feeling the panic beginning to subside as his wife stroked his brow, her soothing voice easing the fear away.
‘You’re okay, babe. I’m here.’ Her voice was soft and warm, like a balm.
‘What time is it?’ said Max, his throat dry and cracked.
‘Half nine. We both drifted off,’ said Katie.
‘Afterwards, not during, I hope,’ said Max, a smile returning to his voice.
‘Most definitely afterwards. You hungry?’
‘Starving.’
‘What do you fancy?’
‘Apart from you?’
‘Goes without saying.’
‘Pizza?’
Katie wrinkled her nose. ‘Nah, I’m off cheese.’
‘What, you, off cheese? Never thought I’d hear that.’
‘You go shower, sweaty-man. I’ll go rustle up something to eat,’ she said, switching on the bedside light and reaching for her towelling robe that was on the floor. She threw it around her shoulders, pulled it tight against the chill of the room and winked as she headed out of the bedroom.
Max lay back and stared at the ceiling, his mind whirring with thoughts of Hardie, which had come crashing back into his life since Bruce’s call. He was just throwing back the duvet to go shower when his phone began to buzz and dance across the bedside table. He peered at the display.
‘Janie, what gives? You do realise what time it is, right?’
‘Of course, but as we’re on leave, I thought I should mention what I’ve just heard. You remember Pete Barr?’
