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Chapter Twelve

Josiah

When Josiah woke the next morning, the bed was empty. He heard Alex’s special song playing in the spare bedroom, and the little thuds that indicated he was performing his yoga practice.

Josiah smiled, enjoying the sound. It felt good to be sharing the house with a man again. He stretched, surprised by how good he felt. His mind was clear, and he had an old energy back that he’d almost forgotten he’d ever possessed.

He took a long, hot shower, and rested his head against the wall, wallowing in the sensation of the water beating down on his shoulders.

“Hippo,” a familiar, dry voice murmured in his ear.

“You’re still here, then?” Josiah grinned. “Thought you might have gone, after last night.”

“I’ll go when you let me go,” Peter said.

“I’ll miss you,” Josiah said. His hand went instinctively to the ring he wore on the chain around his neck.

“’Til death do us part,” Peter intoned gently.

Josiah left the shower and glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he dried himself.

He still appeared tired, with dark smudges under his eyes, but he felt more relaxed than he had in years.

Last night’s catharsis had changed him – his face had lost the gaunt, haunted expression it had held for so long. He looked younger and brighter.

He dressed in a pair of houndstooth-check trousers and a crisp white shirt, teaming them with a tie in the same shade of ice blue as his eyes. Then he pulled on his polished black shoes and grabbed his suit jacket.

He jogged down the stairs to the living room and flicked aside the curtain to see that the media were still camped outside. He wished they’d become bored and given up, but he knew they’d stay until they got what they wanted.

He strode into the kitchen, rolling his shirt sleeves up to the elbows as he walked, then tied a red-checked apron around his waist and began making breakfast, whistling as he worked.

The toast was buttered, the juice poured, and the tea brewing in the pot by the time Alex poked his head around the door twenty minutes later.

He was wearing grey sweatpants and a white tee-shirt, and his hair was an unruly mess from where he’d presumably been standing on his head, or whatever he did during his morning yoga sessions.

“I thought I’d leave you to have a lie-in, but you’re up… and making breakfast?” Alex queried, looking surprised.

“Yup. I thought it was my turn to cook. My eggs aren’t as nice as yours, but they’re not bad.”

“I’ll risk them.” Alex grinned. “So, you’re dressed in a suit – it’s Saturday, so I wasn’t sure…”

“I don’t take days off this early in a homicide case,” Josiah explained. “C’mon – it’s ready. Let’s go eat.” He tousled Alex’s untidy hair, then picked up the tray and walked into the other room.

“We’re eating in the dining room?” Alex asked, following him.

“Yup – you like eating in here, don’t you?” Josiah placed the plates of food on the table he’d laid earlier.

“I do, but why are you doing all this?” Alex asked, sitting down.

Josiah threw him a napkin. “Last night…” He exhaled a deep breath. “Well, you did something nice for me last night, and I wanted to return the favour. ”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk about it.” Alex took a sip of his juice.

“I feel I should,” Josiah admitted. “I’ve never fallen apart like that, and I never thought I would, especially not in front of another person. I hope it didn’t freak you out too much.”

“Of course not.” Alex smiled. “Did last night give you any clues as to why that nightmare has been coming back so often lately?”

Frowning, Josiah began cutting into his fried egg so that the yolk could soak into the toast.

“It’s just… you said a couple of times that it’s been worse lately, and I wondered why. Do you think something triggered it?” Alex took a sip of orange juice, gazing at him curiously over the rim of his glass.

“Maybe it was just time to confront it,” Josiah said with a shrug.

“I buried it for too long. Then there was the anniversary of Peter’s death – maybe that triggered something.

You know, Peter only got to drive the car that one time.

He spent two years restoring her from a heap of junk into something beautiful, and then he died the first time he took her out. ”

“They said on the news that Peter was killed by an escaped IS wanting to steal the car?” Alex prompted, still looking at him curiously.

“Yeah.” Josiah nodded. That had been what he’d told Esther when she performed the investigation, because he couldn’t tell her the truth.

“I went to buy us something to drink from a café, and when I came back Peter was struggling with this guy who was trying to take the car. I fought him off, and he ran away, but not before stabbing Peter in the neck.” He hated having to edit the truth after Alex’s kindness in the night, but he had to protect the Kathleen Line.

He’d gone to the hospital in the ambulance with Peter’s body, covered in Peter’s blood, and then he’d called Elsie.

He still remembered the unholy wail that came out of the nanopad when he’d told her what had happened.

She’d rushed to the hospital immediately, and he had to accompany her to the mortuary, because she’d refused to believe Peter was dead until she saw his body for herself.

Elsie took Peter’s white face between her hands and gazed at him, her eyes full of tears.

Josiah leaned back against the mortuary wall and watched.

He felt as if he were far away, observing her from a great distance.

There was a relief to be had in detachment.

A respite. He had to keep his feelings under control, because if he gave in to the darkness raging inside, he didn’t know what he’d do.

He remembered the burnt ground around Rosengarten…

and he knew exactly why Peter had made him promise not to seek revenge.

All he wanted right now was to go out there, track down Lars, put his hands around the man’s throat, and squeeze until he was dead.

Yet with his last breath Peter had made him promise not to take that path.

Josiah didn’t know if that was a promise he could keep, but how could he break a promise made to a dying man?

“Why?” Elsie said hoarsely, stroking Peter’s bloodstained hair. “Why did this happen? Why, Joe?”

He shook his head, feeling completely numb. “I don’t know.”

“We were trying to help. Why would Lars attack Peter? Why?”

“He was scared, paranoid – there was something not right about him, in the head. He saw my Inquisitus ID when I opened my wallet and thought it was a trap. I don’t know what happened after I left the car, but Ben said he lunged forward and knifed Peter in the neck without warning.

I assume he intended to steal the car and get away.

He thought we were going to return him to his houder and claim the reward, but I doubt there ever was one.

” Josiah had been through it a hundred times already, but he still couldn’t believe it had actually happened.

“Lars was jumpy, but I didn’t think he was a killer. He pretended he had a gun at the beginning, and that should have set off alarm bells, but we didn’t take him seriously. We didn’t even consider that he might have a knife.”

“What happened to the others – Matthew and Ben?” she asked.

“Matthew never showed up. He was the one we were waiting for. Ben… he was just a kid, and so scared. He wasn’t much of a fighter.

” Josiah recalled the clumsy punch Ben had thrown at Lars.

“But he was brave. He was holding on to Lars’s arm when I got there, trying to stop hi m stabbing Peter again.

He called for the ambulance as Peter was dying… and then I told him to run.”

“He might try and call me,” Elsie said.

“He might, but we can’t help him now.”

She looked up, her eyes swimming with tears. “Why?”

“We’ll be under too much scrutiny – we can’t risk it. If Ben calls you again, you have to tell him he’s on his own. We can’t help.”

“Scrutiny?” she asked absently, still stroking Peter’s hair.

Josiah could see she hadn’t grasped the full implications of what they were facing. She could only think about Peter. But they had no time to fall apart right now – the living still needed their protection.

“Look, there are things we must discuss… details,” he continued in his brisk work tone. It was far easier to be an investigator than a grieving husband; he didn’t know how to play that role. “There will be an investigation. They’ll want to know who killed Peter.”

She looked up, her face ashen. “You can’t tell them the truth.”

“No, of course not. I’m going to call Esther in a minute, but we need to get our stories straight before I do.”

“What will you say?”

“I’ll tell her that Peter and I were coming to visit you, and that we stopped to buy drinks on the way… damn it,” he snapped suddenly.

“What?”

“Five cups. I bought five cups of tea at the café – she’ll check that and want to know why. Who were the others for?”

“Me?” Elsie suggested. “Tell her you were bringing tea for me and two mutual friends. I’ll call Jan and Derek and tell them, so they’ll provide the right alibi when she contacts them.”

“Seems odd, but maybe you love the tea from that place so much that you insist we always bring you some when we visit?”

“That’s right. That’s it.” She nodded.

“And while I was getting the tea, Lars was walking past – he saw the car – you can’t exactly miss it – and he decided to steal it. He opened the door and stabbed Peter, and that’s when I returned with the tea. There was a struggle, and he ran off…”

“Yes. That’s what happened.” She nodded again .

“That’s not what happened.” He gazed at Peter’s dead body, lying on the mortuary table between them.

“No, but it’s what we have to say. Yes, Josiah?” She moved around to his side of the table, took his head in her hands, and looked at him. “Josiah?”