They moved into a building ablaze with light and colour. Every café and shop was hung with Christmas decorations, and in a corner a small amateur choir, largely disregarded, was singing carols and collecting for charity. They made their way to the washrooms, then picked up sandwiches and two large plastic beakers of coffee and returned with them to the car. While they ate, Dalgliesh phoned Benton to put him in the picture and within twenty minutes they were on their way.

Glancing at Kate’s face, strained with stoical determination not to betray her tiredness, he said, “It’s been a long day and it isn’t over yet. Why not put the seat back and have a sleep?”

“I’m all right, sir.”

“There’s no need for both of us to stay awake. There’s a rug on the back seat, if you can reach it. I’ll wake you up in good time.”

He resisted tiredness when driving by keeping the heating low. If she slept she would need the rug. She jerked back her seat and settled herself, the rug huddled close to her neck, her face turned towards him. Almost at once she was asleep. She slept so quietly that he could hardly hear her gently drawn breath, except that from time to time she made a small contented grunt like a sleeping child and snuggled deeper into the rug. Glancing at her face, all anxiety smoothed away by the benison of life’s little semblance of death, he thought what a good face it was—not beautiful, certainly not conventionally pretty, but a good face, honest, open, pleasant to look at, a face that would last. For years, when on a case, she had worn her light-brown hair in a single thick plait; now she had had it cut and it lay softly on her cheeks. He knew that what she needed from him was more than he could give, but what he did give he knew that she valued—friendship, trust, respect and affection. But she deserved much more. About six months ago, he had thought that she had found it. Now he was not so sure.

Soon, he knew, the Special Investigation Squad would fold or be absorbed into another department. He would make his own decision about his future. Kate would gain her overdue promotion to detective chief inspector. But what then for her? He had sensed of late that she was tired of travelling alone. At the next service station he pulled in and cut off the engine. She didn’t stir. He tucked the rug close round her sleeping body and settled himself for a short break. Ten minutes later, he slid back into the stream of traffic and drove south-westwards through the night.

Chapter 5

5