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“Where have you been?” Jamie asks softly. “I was worried.”
His gaze shifts up at the hint of concern. Then he sighs, his mouth downturned.
“I’ve been to Belmarsh.”
“Jail? To see who?” Then Jamie realizes. “Cole? You went to see Cole.”
Adam nods.
“And?”
Adam slumps wearily on the sofa. “He knows something. He’s behind all this. He is. But I can’t prove it.”
“But how?”
“Fuck, I don’t know. The guards are all under his thumb—perhaps he’s using them to get messages in and out.” He runs his hands down his face. “I need coffee.”
“I’ll make you one. Stay there.”
Jamie goes into the kitchen, putting the kettle on and spooning instant coffee into two mugs. He glances back into the living room: Adam is still sitting there, head in his hands. He can’t believe what Adam is saying, but something about it all fits.
Jamie carries the coffees back and puts them both on the table. Adam reaches forward to the box of cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it. He takes a long drag, then holds the packet out to Jamie.
“You want one? Since this is your thing now?”
Jamie returns his tired smile. “Didn’t like it. I’m sorry, mate.”
Adam waves with the cigarette, dismissing him. “It’s done. You were right—”
“I wasn’t—”
“I should have found her.” He taps the cigarette on the ashtray.
“Adam, you did nothing wrong in that investigation. Nothing. Concentrate on catching this fucker. That’s all that’s important.”
Adam nods slowly. After a moment he says, “That’s not all.”
And Adam updates Jamie on everything to do with the case—the heparin, the needles, the medical expertise—and everything Cole told him. Jamie’s mouth drops open in surprise.
“There are more? Three more victims?” Jamie replies, astonished. “But where?”
“Marsh says I’m being manipulated. That it’s all bollocks.”
“What do you think?”
Adam shrugs, staring thoughtfully into the smoke curling up from his cigarette. “Who cares what I think?”
Jamie’s seen Adam like this before: after he split up with Romilly. Apathy, distance. His emotions shutting down. Adam’s accepted his apology on the surface, but underneath their relationship has changed. There are things he’s not telling him—how he’s feeling, thoughts he would have imparted before the argument last night.
But before Jamie can say any more, Adam’s phone beeps. He looks at it, then stubs his butt out in the ashtray and stands up.
“I have to go.”
“Adam—”
“I need to have a shower. I’ll be back later.” He surveys the mess. Then he shakes his head and walks out of the room.
Jamie watches him go. What has he done? When he needs his friend the most, when Adam needs him, he’s destroyed everything. He’ll make it up to him, he resolves. He will. He picks up the ashtray and two of the empty wine bottles. He can at least start by tidying up the mess.
