He managed to be sitting upright by the time Jenny Spargo and a clutch of other uniforms arrived. They were making the most tremendous fuss—banging him on the back and shoulders, pointing out to sea, making painfully obvious statement about the fact that there’d been a bomb, that some bastard had tried to bomb the Pride parade. All Gideon cared about right now was whether or not the bastard was in custody. He grabbed Jenny’s arm and managed, through a hot and constricted throat, to ask.
She bent over him in concern. “Yes, of course. Oh dear, Gid—you’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
She took that claim for what it was worth and whistled through her fingers to attract the nearest constable’s attention. “Call an ambulance, Bennet! Tell them it’s officer-down.”
“Oh, Jenny.”
“What? Do you want to explain to the press how I left a wounded hero to suffer on the ground?”
“Oh, shit. Press, already?”
“Yeah. Sorry. They were here to cover the march anyway, and you know how they are.”
“Keep them away from me, or I swear to God—”
“Don’t worry, I will. Uh-oh—here comes someone else I don’t want to have to explain to.”
“Who?” Gideon’s heart gave a painful heave in his chest. He tried to stand, and the effort sent him sprawling onto his hands and knees. “Jen, Bennet... Help me up.”
“I think you’d better stay down. It’s all right, it’s all right. It’s just Lee.”
God, what a sight he was! Full pelt along the pier, and a good deal less concerned about the kids and the grannies than Gideon had been. His shirt was untucked, his smart going-out teatime jacket left heaven knew where, and one of Tamsyn’s little bibs halfway out of his trouser pocket, strings afloat. He was the loveliest thing Gideon had ever set eyes on, but his arrival was likely to crack the last shreds of his self-control. Gideon bit his lip as the officers made way, and closed ranks again to shield them both from the pack of reporters in his wake, a blessed thin blue line.
Now at last Gideon was free to be a big bloody baby. Lee dropped to his knees beside him and he fell unresisting into his arms, burying his face against his neck. The pain was atrocious, and he couldn’t feel his left leg at all from the knee down. “Aren’t you meant to be somewhere with my ma?”
“We were in the bloody museum caff! She wanted to watch the march, if I wouldn’t let her be part of it. I glanced out the window and saw you, going base over apex down those stairs.”
“Oh, fucking great.”
“Well, we’d have politely ignored you, but then the fucking bomb you were carrying went off and rattled all the windows in their frames. Holy hell, Gideon!”
“Is she all right?”
“No—I left her up there with Tamsyn, both of ’em having six fits.”
“Oh, Lee. I think I’ve hurt myself.”
Lee rocked him. “I know. I know. There’s an ambulance on its way, all right?” He kissed the top of Gideon’s head. “What fucking use am I,” he said wonderingly, as flakes of sawdust from the damaged boat blew up on the sea breeze and gently descended around them, “if I can’t predict something like this?”
Gideon jerked his head up. “No,” he rasped, getting his arms around Lee’s waist and fiercely rocking him in turn. “Don’t you say that. Nobody ever gets to say that—not even you.” Not even me, he thought, although that was bleeding obvious. It was time for him to say some other things, though—the words he’d have written in gold on the salty air, if he’d had time, the time now miraculously granted. “It is not your job in any way to run around predicting disasters. You’re my husband, and you and Tamsyn are the loves of my whole life. You don’t have to say or do one damn thing more to be my whole life’s perfection to me. Do you understand?”
Lee nodded. The movement was tight and close against Gideon’s skull. Gideon felt his ribs jerk in a sob.
The blue line broke. Gideon drew breath to roar at the intruders, then let it go unvoiced. Somehow Gwylim Kitto had dodged past the pressmen and the cops. He was hand-in-hand with Jem Poldue, both of them wide-eyed and breathless. For some reason they had sought him out, and for some reason equally mysterious, Gideon had seldom been so glad to see any two people in his life.
Still, Kitto was a brick short and no mistake. He was staring like a tropical fish in a tank. Gideon put a shielding hand to the side of Lee’s face. “Hello, then, lads. Are you all right?”
Kitto clutched Jem’s hand harder. “Jem, that’s Sergeant Frayne.”
Jem returned his grip. He flashed him a beautiful, reassuring smile. “It’s all right, Kit. I know.”
***
Detective Inspector Lawrence wasn’t entirely comfortable around gay men. Around her lesbian officers either, and as for young psychopaths like Dev Bowe, who carried out their atrocities clad in their dead mother’s nightwear...
She sighed and rubbed her eyes. It was grotesque of her to think about criminals in the same breath with her brave and honourable personnel, and she was disappointed in herself for her failure to adapt to societal change. She tried never to let it show. And heaven knew there was nothing in the tableau before her to inspire disgust: quite the opposite, handsome Lee Tyack sitting by Sergeant Frayne’s hospital bedside in the morning light, quiet and watchful. Lawrence was as fond of Gideon as she ever allowed herself to become of her subordinates. She’d have been fine if they weren’t holding hands. “How are you feeling, Sergeant?”
“Fine, ma’am. I’m full of drugs at the moment, granted, but... I’m all right.” He shifted a little, and Lee took the moment to straighten the pillows behind his back. “You look tired, though. If you don’t mind my saying.”
“No, I don’t mind. Yesterday was just a long day, what with one thing and another. Still, it could have been so much worse.”
Gideon nodded fervently. “Yes, ma’am.”
“The fact that it wasn’t is almost entirely due to you. Er... is your mother okay? And your little girl?”
“My brother came to pick them up. They spent the night with him. They’re fine, thank you.”
A silence fell. The staff at Trelowarren knew Gideon all too well by this point, and the care assistant who’d brought him his breakfast had joked about finding him in his usual side-ward, installing a blue plaque for him, etcetera. Lawrence would have liked to install a blue plaque. He was a bloody hero. She hated what she’d come here to tell him, and she didn’t know where to start.
Lee met her eyes. The silver lights in his were muted but definite. “It’s probably easiest if you just say it,” he said, offering her a half-smile. “Gid will be all right.”
She wished she could shut him out. The trouble was that he wasn’t reaching in. She was sure that she was broadcasting her prejudices and her bad news, and he couldn’t help but hear. “I know. But I feel as if I’ve come here to give you what my young constables would probably call a shit sandwich.”
Gideon’s eyebrows went up, probably in astonishment that she knew the expression and was willing to use it. “I think I had one of those for my tea in here yesterday.”
“Hospital food, eh?” She lifted one shoulder, trying to play along. “As I understand it, a shit sandwich is where I tell you two good things, and try to shovel a bad one in between them without you noticing or minding too much. Although, since technically I’ve got four things to tell you, and I’m not sure if one of them’s good or bad...”
“Maybe it’s a double decker,” Gideon suggested helpfully. “Look, I’ve got something to tell you, too. Maybe if I go first—”
“No,” Lee interrupted. “Detective Inspector, would you mind telling us the fourth thing first, the one you’re not sure about? It’s important.”
How do you know? She honestly didn’t dare ask, not with those silver lights upon her. She sighed, took her cap off and tried to order her thoughts against the background clatter and chatter of the daytime hospital.“Well, it’s arse-backwards to the way I’d intended, but... Dev Bowe’s been found safe and well.”
“Oh. How is that not good news?” Gideon gave Lee’s hand a squeeze and sat forward, brightening with interest. “I seriously hope no-one’s contemplating any action against poor Mrs Waite.”
“What, for harbouring a known homicidal maniac? No, nobody’s likely to pursue it, given her frailty and her age. But... there were consequences, Gideon, very bad ones, and that leads me on to the next thing I’ve got to say.” Lawrence forbade herself a glance at Lee for permission. “More filling, I’m afraid, not bread.”
“Where was Dev found? Is he all right?”
“He’s psychotic and delusional, but that’s par for the course. Unfortunately he was found on the moorland near your brother’s church, sitting near the remains of an ex-con named John Tregear, with whom I understand you’ve had some dealings.”
“Tregear?” For a big man, Gideon looked suddenly fragile. “Wait. Did somebody tell me yesterday that he was out of jail?”
“If they did, they shouldn’t have. I had to brief my CID team, because I was far from happy with the terms of Tregear’s release, and meant to have a discreet watch set on your house. But now there’s no need for that.” She paused, and gave a faint shudder. “Clearly.”
“He’s dead?”
“Very. It seems Dev Bowe... dismembered him, to put it mildly. I don’t know—I’ve seen tiny people do terrible things in the grip of psychosis, but this is extreme.”
Lee let go of Gideon’s hand. He shifted from his chair onto the bed and put an arm around Gideon’s shoulders, at which point Gideon looked at him as if he’d been a visiting guardian angel with a law degree. “It is extreme, yes. But Dev’s killed before, and just like this.”
“Yes, twice at least, and those are the times we know of. I’m still not convinced about the disappearance of Joe Kemp. No, we don’t have to look far for our murderer when there’s a well-known nutcase sitting at the scene in a nightdress, covered in blood and confessing faster than my men can question him. But it’s extremely strange. We’ve yet to find a weapon, and Dev Bowe’s motive is unclear. He wasn’t connected in any way with that business with the Kitto boy down in Kelyndar, was he?”
“No. But Dev’s attached to Gideon. And John Tregear has no business in Dark as far I know. If he had come looking for trouble around our house, Dev might not have liked it.”
“Thank you, Detective Tyack. That wraps it all up, I’m sure.”
He was impervious to her sarcasm. All his attention was fixed on Gideon, who had gone as white as his pillow slip. “You all right, love? Leg hurting again?”
“No, I’m just... I can’t believe old Tregear’s gone.”
“Well, you’re not gonna mourn him, are you? Think what he did to Kitto. And Detective Inspector Lawrence is right—he might have come to Dark meaning mischief to you. Or me. Or even Tamsyn.”
Lawrence hadn’t said half of that. Still, Lee was calling colour and life back to Gideon’s face, and she was pleased to see it. “Can I please tell you my good news now? The nurses are going to throw me out of here if I don’t say something to make you smile.”
“And will it?”
That was her warning from Lee, as well. She couldn’t quite understand the protective growl in his tone. “I hope so. Gideon, I had Chief Superintendent Kinver on the phone to me before I got back to my office yesterday.”
Shadows of apprehension crossed Gideon’s face. “Oh, dear.”
“What? No, no. He’s tremendously proud of you, as are we all. He’s recommended you for a Queen’s Medal.”
“Oh. Good grief. There’s no need for that.”
She gaped at him in disbelief. “You ran fifty yards with an unexploded bomb clutched to your chest, Sergeant. You saved untold numbers of lives.”
“That’s my job, ma’am. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“Is it?” She sat watching him for a few seconds, until his vivid blush had died down. Then she went on, with unaccustomed gentleness, “Because I did warn you that this was a shit sandwich. I’ve had a chance to talk with your doctors this morning. You’ve done for yourself this time, I’m afraid. Don’t worry, you’ll get back on your feet—you’ll walk, and maybe even run again after a couple of years. But you’ll always have a slight limp, and...”
“I don’t want to be in CID, ma’am.”
“I know how hard you’ve worked. I know I’ve pressed you to try and advance, perhaps when you’d rather have...” She ground to a halt. “I’m sorry?”
“I’d rather not make the transfer. The more I think about it, the more I’ve realised I’d be no good creeping about in plain clothes. I’d rather be what I was today—a warning in a high-vis coat, or even a target if I have to be.” His expression softened, and Lawrence had need of it: tears she’d taught herself not to shed in years had come to her eyes. He put out his hand, and she went eagerly to take it, still clutched in his lover’s arms as he was. “I hope you’re not kicking me out entirely.”
“Of course not. And of course there’s no question of demotion. But we can’t have you dashing about the streets the way you’ve been doing, not for now. My suggestion would be that you take up the reins back at home, where I gather you’ve been sorely missed. We’ll provide you with a constable—probably Rhys, I’m afraid—to do the legwork, and...”
“And I’ll be what I always was. The village bobby of Dark.”