did. He searched among the evidence to find the motive and the murderer. She dissected bodies looking for clues of frailty that had led to death. Her spirits lifted appreciably when she thought of the man she dreamt about consistently. Although she told herself many times that the pursuit was futile, she still harboured somewhere within her the hope that someday the situation would turn in her favour. The loss of Wilson’s unborn child had the potential to create fissures between him and Kate McCann. The thought flashed through her head and she despised herself for it. If a man came to her, she wanted it to be because he desired her. She walked slowly to the table where Brian Malone lay and picked up a scalpel. ‘Now let’s find what genetic flaw caused the Grim Reaper to come looking for you.’
Moira McElvaney enjoyed the evening at the cinema followed by dinner and a bout of lovemaking with her lover Brendan Guilfoyle. They had been together for almost nine months and Brendan’s one-year sabbatical at Queen’s University was coming to an end. That meant decision time was approaching, and Moira had decided that she would concentrate on enjoying the now and put off the decision that she dreaded until the last possible moment. In three short months, Brendan would be returning to his job as Professor of Forensic Psychology at Harvard University. He had already asked her to go with him, but she hadn’t replied. She liked the idea that he told her continually that he loved her. That wasn’t the problem. She had already loved one man and he had responded by beating and humiliating her. He had justified his action by calling it love. Love was a many-splendoured thing. It could be used to justify both care and incredible cruelty. She was certainly over Michael Regan, but that didn’t mean she didn’t wake up in the middle of the night running a hot sweat thinking of the beatings she received at his hands. At least she had been instrumental in putting the bastard where he belonged – behind bars. Too many women hung on hoping wife beating was a phase, only to find that it was a way of life. The current situation with Brendan was different. He was an intelligent and articulate man. He could hold his own in any company and had embraced Belfast with enthusiasm to the point where his normal Bostonian accent had taken on a distinctly Northern Irish twang. But what she liked most about Brendan was that he was fun. You could never be depressed in his company, and she could feel herself lighter when she was with him. Maybe that was love, but the spectre of her failed marriage always haunted her. Then there was her job in the PSNI and Wilson. While she might have wondered if what she felt for Brendan was love, she had no doubt about her feelings for her job. Her heart lifted every morning when she woke and realised that another day full of challenges was waiting for her. She fell into police work rather than chose it as a profession, but it had turned out to be the perfect fit. The thought of giving up her job for a life with Brendan filled her with a kind of weird dread. Almost as much dread as never seeing Brendan again. And then there was Wilson. She had been initially attracted to her boss. Who wouldn’t? He might have been the perfect man if it wasn’t for the fact that he was alleged to have slept with every female police officer his own age, and quite a few considerably younger. She had been disappointed when she discovered that he already had a lover, but since then their relationship had changed, and she saw him now as more of a mentor than a potential lover. He was her teacher, and she felt she had so much more to learn from him. Leaving with Brendan would cut that learning short. She was mulling through these thoughts when she realised that Brendan was no longer in bed with her. She slipped out from beneath the duvet, and making the minimum amount of noise made her way into the living room where she saw Brendan
Moira McElvaney enjoyed the evening at the cinema followed by dinner and a bout of lovemaking with her lover Brendan Guilfoyle. They had been together for almost nine months and Brendan’s one-year sabbatical at Queen’s University was coming to an end. That meant decision time was approaching, and Moira had decided that she would concentrate on enjoying the now and put off the decision that she dreaded until the last possible moment. In three short months, Brendan would be returning to his job as Professor of Forensic Psychology at Harvard University. He had already asked her to go with him, but she hadn’t replied. She liked the idea that he told her continually that he loved her. That wasn’t the problem. She had already loved one man and he had responded by beating and humiliating her. He had justified his action by calling it love. Love was a many-splendoured thing. It could be used to justify both care and incredible cruelty. She was certainly over Michael Regan, but that didn’t mean she didn’t wake up in the middle of the night running a hot sweat thinking of the beatings she received at his hands. At least she had been instrumental in putting the bastard where he belonged – behind bars. Too many women hung on hoping wife beating was a phase, only to find that it was a way of life. The current situation with Brendan was different. He was an intelligent and articulate man. He could hold his own in any company and had embraced Belfast with enthusiasm to the point where his normal Bostonian accent had taken on a distinctly Northern Irish twang. But what she liked most about Brendan was that he was fun. You could never be depressed in his company, and she could feel herself lighter when she was with him. Maybe that was love, but the spectre of her failed marriage always haunted her. Then there was her job in the PSNI and Wilson. While she might have wondered if what she felt for Brendan was love, she had no doubt about her feelings for her job. Her heart lifted every morning when she woke and realised that another day full of challenges was waiting for her. She fell into police work rather than chose it as a profession, but it had turned out to be the perfect fit. The thought of giving up her job for a life with Brendan filled her with a kind of weird dread. Almost as much dread as never seeing Brendan again. And then there was Wilson. She had been initially attracted to her boss. Who wouldn’t? He might have been the perfect man if it wasn’t for the fact that he was alleged to have slept with every female police officer his own age, and quite a few considerably younger. She had been disappointed when she discovered that he already had a lover, but since then their relationship had changed, and she saw him now as more of a mentor than a potential lover. He was her teacher, and she felt she had so much more to learn from him. Leaving with Brendan would cut that learning short. She was mulling through these thoughts when she realised that Brendan was no longer in bed with her. She slipped out from beneath the duvet, and making the minimum amount of noise made her way into the living room where she saw Brendan
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