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Back Cross and Burn Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. About the Author
  2. Also by Val McDermid
  3. COPYRIGHT
  4. CROSS AND BURN
  5. Dedication
  6. Acknowledgements
  7. Epigraph
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. 51
  59. 52
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. 59
  67. 60
  68. 61
  69. 62
  70. 63
  71. 64
  72. 65
  73. 66
  74. 67

Carol’s mouth had a stubborn set to it. ‘It’s his job to think of the things that don’t occur to the rest of us. And everybody else paid the price, not him. Michael and Lucy, Chris, that stable lad, my parents, me. Even Vanessa suffered more than he did.’

‘And you think that doesn’t torture him every day? You think he’s not torn apart with guilt? I’ve watched him suffer his own sense of failure. Believe me, Carol, you can’t load more blame on him than he does on himself. How long is this going to go on? His shame and your blame? Are you going to let this define the rest of your lives? Because from where I’m standing, frankly, it’s a colossal waste of two people’s lives.’ It was out before Paula knew she was going to say it. Challenging Carol wasn’t something she’d been able to do in the past; the obligations of rank had always been the final stumbling block.

‘It’s none of your business, Paula.’ Carol walked out of the room, through to the barn. The dog gave Paula a baleful look then went after Carol into the chill.

Paula hung her head and sighed. ‘Blew that one,’ she said under her breath. She waited to see whether Carol was coming back, but she was out of luck. So she returned the way she’d come. Carol was standing by a window, staring out at the dark. Paula could see her face in the glass. Her expression was as hard as the reflective surface.

‘This is so unfair,’ Paula said. ‘Fielding’s got everything on her side. Me included. And he’s got nothing and nobody. He hasn’t even got a lawyer.’

‘I don’t do pity, remember?’

Paula kicked out at a sawhorse in her frustration then shouted at Carol for the first time in her life. ‘It’s not about pity, for fuck’s sake. It’s about justice. The woman I used to know cared about justice.’ The slam of the door behind her as she left was the only satisfying moment of the whole encounter.

45

Tony sat on the edge of the narrow ledge that passed for a bed in the Skenfrith Street custody suite, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped. He’d been in police cells before, but only in the course of business. Talking to the damaged, the deranged and the demonised had brought him to places like this, but always with the door open. He’d often tried to put himself in the shoes of the captive, imagining how it must feel when that door slammed shut and they were alone. But he’d always started from a place of empathy – what it would be like for them. As opposed to how he would feel himself.