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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

T his woman rattled him far more than he’d ever thought someone could. What had he been thinking in that car park?

But that was the issue: Robert hadn’t been thinking.

Somewhere in those hours he’d spent chatting with her in the pub and the time he’d spent hunting her, he’d lost his actual mind, logic and sense.

Robert wiped his palm over his mouth. And now he was shacking up with her in this one-bedroom flat to find answers. God help him.

Anne was gone. But with each passing day, the ache of deep loss lessened. His mind cleared and focused on tasks; the petrified sorrow in him ebbed and left his body. He unfroze, and Nina… she melted that sorrow and burned a zest in him to do something. To move on.

And that was so fucked. She’d killed his wife. And he was here to get a confession out of her.

Robert shook his head. First up, he had to see to her wound. ‘Do you have a first aid kit?’

‘Huh?’ She still stared at the flat, as if she hadn’t ever seen it before.

Cheryl and Joshua had been by, looking for clues. Cheryl’s arrival in that alley had been his signal that the checks were done and they could proceed to the flat. His plan hadn’t counted on someone chasing Nina or trying to threaten her, though.

Robert walked over to the windows and gazed out. It was a stunning view of the city centre especially when bathed in golden light. He’d patrolled this street several times, even gone to Merchant Square for a few pints with friends. He could see the City Halls connected to the Merchant Square from here.

Robert whistled. Nina liked living fancy, apparently. The front door led to a cosy living area with a sofa, a coffee table and a spot for a desk. On the other side of the living room stood a counter and, behind it, the kitchen – small but modern.

‘What are we doing here?’ Nina distracted him from his perusal.

Robert stalked over to the counter and set her backpack down. In all fairness, his declaration before, of this flat being apt for what he had in mind, had indeed been ambiguous. Besides, if he expected to extract answers and later leave with his sanity intact, he’d best get a move on.

But first, he needed tea. Robert headed towards the kitchen when Nina interrupted. ‘No shoes inside the house, and certainly not in the kitchen.’

Robert held his hands up and followed Nina to the front door to remove his shoes. What kind of abductor let the abductee order them around? Him, apparently.

When his shoes slid off, showcasing his hastily pulled on socks – one brown with a parade of cheese slices and the other black with footballs on it – he sighed. He really should turn the light on before he dressed in the mornings.

As he padded into the kitchen past Nina, who was wringing her hands together, he raised an eyebrow. ‘Tea?’

She startled, then nodded.

Robert rinsed out the kettle – Nina hadn’t been back here for a while – then filled it up and set the water to boil. Then he went hunting for the tea.

Nina had a spice cabinet – or a pantry that had more spices in it than raw items – her utensils, cutlery, rice and pasta… and then Robert located the tea shelf. He pulled out the loose-leaf tea packet, then herbal tea packets, followed by a pouch of ground coffee. That was all she had. ‘Where are your teabags?’

The kettle flicked off, the patter of the water boiling dying out.

Nina jerked out of her deep thoughts. ‘You’ve got tea right there.’

‘That’s loose-leaf tea. Do you have a tea kettle for me to brew it in?’

‘A tea kettle?’ Nina’s face turned incredulous, like he’d asked her why she was on the run instead of reaching out to the police for help. ‘I don’t have that.’

She slid open a drawer then pulled out a small utensil and a mug. ‘Kettle tea is weak.’

Nina filled the utensil with water – measured from the mug – then turned on her induction to set the water to boil. ‘Do you do ginger?’

‘What?’ It was Robert’s turn to blink at her. ‘Ginger? As in chai tea?’

Nina froze. ‘I have half a mind to smack you.’ Then she reached into a basket beside the kettle and brought out ginger. ‘Tea with spices in it is masala chai. Not chai tea. It literally means tea tea. I heard you once, thank you.’

Nina grated the ginger directly into the simmering water. Robert grimaced. That was going to be one spicy tea.

For the next few minutes, they literally watched water boil – along with the ginger inside making the liquid murky. Once the water was all but bubbling over, Nina spooned the loose-leaf tea in and let it boil for another minute. Finally, she added in milk – just a splash – then used a strainer and poured two steaming mugs.

Robert had to admit, the aroma had his mouth watering. And with his first sip, the tea stung, pulling tears from his eyes, but oh God, God… who knew tea could taste so good?

‘Sugar?’ Nina held up a porcelain jar that he assumed held sugar.

Robert shook his head. ‘It’s, er, I’m, er— It’s nice.’

They took their tea and biscuits to the living room. Nina had forgone a dining table to make space for her desk, so she perched on the sofa and he sat on a chair opposite. She took a sip of the steaming tea and moaned – a sound that beckoned, for the thousandth time, to his dick.

He gulped a large sip of hot tea and hoped the sting would inhibit his arousal.

No such luck, not with Nina staring at him from under those long, luscious eyelashes.

She bit her lip. ‘I haven’t been interviewed before, not like this. It’s generally me who does the interviewing. So why are you here?’

Robert cradled the mug in his hands, studying her. The nerves hadn’t yet left her features, and yet she was behaving like she was in charge, that she was free and confident.

‘Why is Harish Shah after you?’

Nina raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that his full name?’

Robert leaned forward. ‘Nina, listen to me carefully. The sooner you give me answers, the better it will be.’

‘Better for you.’ Nina shook her head. ‘You aren’t letting me go after you find the answers, just like Shah won’t let me go after he gets what he wants.’

She had that right. If Robert let her go, she’d be in handcuffs with police officers leading her into custody. But Dickheadson or any other detective inspector wouldn’t take Robert seriously with no evidence. He needed that evidence and, preferably, a confession from Nina.

‘What does he want from you?’ Robert prodded.

Nina laughed, the sound stark against the silence in the room. ‘That’s a good question I’d love an answer to.’

Robert set the empty mug aside and reached for his notepad. When his hand connected with cloth instead of his neon vest, he pulled his hand away.

Too late. Nina noticed. ‘How long have you been on the bench?’

Long enough. Not that Dickheadson was complaining. The man had simply sanctioned more leave, and Robert had no urgency to get behind a desk or patrol mindlessly through Glasgow… or work under Dickheadson.

He clasped his hands together. ‘Well, he wouldn’t have come after you repeatedly for nothing. When was the first time you met the man?’

‘Why should I tell you?’

‘It’s personal for me, Nina. I need to know.’

She shook her head. ‘That’s not enough. The stakes for me are higher than that.’ Nina smacked her mug down on the coffee table. ‘And, frankly, I don’t think your lot can help me.’

By his lot, she had to mean the police. Robert knew they wouldn’t help, and not because they now probably had Shah in custody again and would believe she was no longer in danger, but because Nina was one of the thousands of cases sitting on their desks.

Robert hadn’t interviewed too many high-profile criminals either – as Dickheadson had suggested – still, he loved building connections with people, even those who hated the very sight of his uniform.

He wetted his lips. This would either help or massively backfire… ‘I lost my wife in the fire that destroyed Shah’s nightclub.’

‘Shah’s nightclub?’ She whispered it, as if putting the pieces together. Then she realised where exactly he was going. ‘I’m sorry, what nightclub?’

Robert looked Nina directly in the eyes and said, ‘The nightclub that caught fire at Walls Street. I’m sure you remember that dilapidated building – it’s where we first met, after all. And I heard you were there that night… that you set the fire yourself.’