Page 107 of Vengeance is Mine

‘Did you?’

‘Yes.’ She grinned. ‘I could always be in the local this evening with her for a drink, you pop by, and then I get a strange phone call from Matthew telling me I’m urgently needed at home and leave you both to it.’

Terry couldn’t hide his smile. ‘Thank you, Kyra. I know you’re trying to help, but?—’

‘No,’ she interrupted. ‘No buts. Terry, I’m being serious now. There is more to life than the job. Please don’t turn into a cliché detective.’

‘Let me think about it. Ask me again on Monday.’

She jumped up from her seat, excited. ‘You do realise I won’t be taking no for an answer on Monday.’

‘I do.’

‘Excellent. See you later.’

Terry watched her leave then turned back to his report. His heart sank. She was right. The job was consuming him. He did need to let things go. Unfortunately, it was easier said than done.

When Ian Braithwaite had bought his four-bedroom townhouse in Greystones Mews, he had done so with one thought in mind: he’d be able to hand it down to Terry and his wife and kids to live in. That didn’t look like it was going to be happening any time soon. If ever. Terry was rattling around in a house with three floors, like a ghost. The only positive Terry could find to living there was it was within a five-minute walk of four decent pubs and two dives, two Indian takeaways, a Chinese and three pizza places. He could have a different meal each night. Tonight, he fancied pizza and texted his order when he was a ten-minute drive away. It was ready as he pulled up outside. He wasn’t sure if the bloke behind the counter knowing his name was a good thing or a sign he should learn how to cook.

He parked in his designated space and climbed out – pizza box in one hand, pack of four cans of lager in the other.

He kicked the front door shut behind him, turned on the light with his elbow and went into the kitchen, slapping the pizza box down on the counter. From his back pocket, he took out his mobile and fired off a quick text to Kyra: You win. Arrange the phoney meet with Sergeant Morton for some time next week.

The truth was, he didn’t want to be alone. He had a big house, and he needed someone to share it with.

Later, Terry woke from a doze on the sofa. He was in that state where he knew the television was on – he could hear the sound – but he couldn’t process it. For some reason, he was fighting sleep. The pizza box, with only three slices eaten, lay open on the coffee table in front of him, and he’d only drunk one can of lager before his eyelids had grown heavy and sleep tried to claim him.

His mobile burst into life. His eyes shot open, and he sat up. He scrambled for the remote and turned off the television. He must have been asleep. There was no way he would have consciously been watching a cookery programme.

Terry’s iPhone was dancing around the coffee table. He picked it up and blinked a few times for the screen to come into focus. Kyra was calling. He swiped to answer.

‘Kyra. What time is it?’

‘It’s half-past nine.’

‘Is it?’ He looked at the clock on the wall. He’d only been dozing for a few minutes. It felt much later.

‘Oh. What’s up?’

‘We’ve got him,’ she said, the excitement evident in her voice.

‘Got him? Got who?’

‘Dominic Griffiths’ killer. Uniform arrested him an hour ago.’

‘Him?’

Terry squeezed his eyes tightly shut. The news had come out of the blue, but it was a huge relief, and he could feel his entire body starting to relax already. He thought of Harry and Barbara and his father, of everything they’d been through over the past twenty years, and it still wasn’t over with. Maybe now it finally would be. Maybe now they could all finally move on.

Chapter Forty-Eight

‘You’re going to have to do something about your appearance if you want to have any chance with Bella,’ Kyra said upon seeing Terry enter the police station in a stained and creased shirt with his jacket half hanging off his shoulders.

‘Who the hell’s Bella?’

‘Sergeant Morton.’

‘I didn’t know she was called Bella. I may have to reconsider. Tell me what you’ve got,’ he said, as he headed down the corridor to his office.

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