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Cara feels a ripple of anger. That was her friend’s dress. Her friend. Not some device to sell newspapers. But she nods; she needs to keep this guy on her side. “Thank you,” she adds.
* * *
They take the original note, the code, and the piece of material with them, leaving a copy for the newspaper, and get in the car.
“Do you think this will tell us the killer’s name?” Deakin asks. “It seems a bit … easy?”
“We haven’t cracked it yet,” Cara says. She still feels weary, the gravity of the case weighs on her mind.
They start to drive, and as they head back toward town, Cara wants to see Roo. She wants a hug from her husband, from someone who can tell her it’s all going to be okay.
“Do you mind if we stop by the restaurant?” she asks. Deakin seems reluctant, but does as she asks, pulling the car up outside. “I’ll get us some lunch while I’m here,” she adds to appease him.
Cara gets out and looks through the huge plate-glass windows. Service hasn’t yet begun, and she opens the door, walking through the empty tables, laid up with white napkins and shining silver cutlery. Tables she knows will soon be filled with posh clientele: ladies who lunch, businessmen making the most of steaks on expenses.
A few people working notice her and nod—they have a low staff turnover here, and most of them know her—and she goes through to the kitchen.
Tempting smells are already coming from the many ovens. A few chefs finish up last-minute prep, but she can’t see Roo. Then she spots him, on the far side, standing at the open back door. He’s smiling, talking to someone, and she takes a few seconds to admire him in his chef’s whites.
He’s good-looking: in better shape than most men his age, tall, graying, with a smile that pulls people toward him. She’s seen the appreciative scrutiny from women in Waitrose. She notices his shoes—Converse sneakers. The same brand as the footwear marks found outside Griffin’s bathroom window when he was attacked. Also identified by the witness on the man going into apartment 214. Seeing them on her husband’s feet just confirms what she knew already: millions of men wear those sneakers. The results don’t narrow their suspect pool down.
Cara goes to say hello but hesitates as she sees the person he’s talking to.
He’s laughing, and reaches out a hand to touch her arm. A woman with long blonde hair, parted in the middle.
It’s Lauren.
Cara watches her smile back, and she frowns. But then she stops herself. Fucking Deaks and his theories, she curses, making her paranoid. She’s probably just dropping something off for the kids or meeting someone for lunch. But deep down she knows this place is too expensive for Lauren. And she’s never known her to come here before.
Then Roo leans forward. He puts a hand on Lauren’s waist and kisses her. It’s on her cheek, not her lips, or a full-blown PDA, but something about it—the slowness, the smile, something—tells Cara it’s not innocent.
Cara steps away from the kitchen, then hurries through the restaurant. She feels the curious glances from the waiting staff, but she doesn’t stop until she’s back in the car.
“Just drive,” she instructs Noah, and he gives her a puzzled look. “And give me that,” she adds, referring to the cigarette hanging from his mouth.
He passes it across without a word, and she takes a long drag. It makes her feel dizzy, but she needs it. She stares resolutely out the window, letting the car fill with smoke, making her eyes water.
She feels Deakin glance across to her, but she’s embarrassed and can’t bring herself to say anything out loud. To acknowledge her failures. A serial killer she can’t catch, mocking her day after day. And a husband cheating on her with the nanny.
CHAPTER
53
ALL EYES ARE on Cara and Deakin as they arrive back in the office. They’d tried hard to keep the note and the cipher quiet, but news had spread rapidly around the team, and now everyone wants a piece of the action. Griffin knows it’s just eagerness to latch onto a new lead, to get the case solved, but he snaps at a few of the younger DCs as their enthusiasm creeps into callousness.
Cara allocates tasks across the office, rushing the piece of material and the letter to the lab, making copies of the code, trying to find someone who might be able to crack it. A few arrogant DCs take a print themselves, keen to take the glory. Cara goes back to her office. She’s been businesslike, the DCI in charge, but to Griffin she seems off. He’s known her long enough to sense when she’s hiding something.
He leans in the doorway of her office. He waits until she looks at him.
“What do you want?” she asks, abruptly.
“What are you not telling us?”
Cara stares at him for a moment. Then she asks: “You got any cigarettes?”
He nods and follows her to the roof.
* * *
