yourself. I know you’d have lots in common.’
‘Emma, when will you realize that I don’t need a matchmaker and I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself?’
‘Oh really, and when’s the last time you did that? It’s over two years since you and Melanie ….’ Chris could hear the discomfort in Emma’s tone at the mention of his ex and his mouth tightened. No need to remind him.
‘Honestly, Chris, you need to get out and enjoy yourself more,’ she continued quickly. ‘It’s great that you’re so dedicated to work, but one of these days you’re going to wake up and realize you’re an old man.’
‘Thanks, Emma, exactly what I need to hear after a hard day on the job.’
Little did she know that Chris was already feeling like an old man, and he wondered if he should confide in his friends about what was going on. He knew that Emma liked to mother him, particularly after losing both of his parents within a year of each other, but if he told them what was going on she’d be on his case night and day to do something about it. No he wouldn’t say anything just yet, but maybe if it got any worse.
‘You know what I mean. All work and no play. You need to relax more, take time out for yourself now and again.’
‘Well, even if I wanted to, Sunday’s no good for me anyway,’ he lied. ‘I’ve got something else on.’ Just then the doorbell rang and he smiled, grateful for the interruption. ‘Sorry, but I really have to go; my dinner’s here.’
‘More takeaways?’ Emma sounded horrified. Glad of the opportunity to avoid another lecture, Chris bade her a quick goodbye and promised to see them all soon.
He knew she was only trying to help, but he genuinely wasn’t interested in a relationship these days. Not that he’d have time for one anyway, and as for being a workaholic and a loner, at least he wasn’t a demon for the drink like a lot of guys in the force. In fact, alcohol was more of a social thing for him and as Emma had so delicately pointed out, he hadn’t done much of that in a while.
Which meant that hard living definitely wasn’t the cause of his current problems either, he thought, wincing as he stood up to answer the doorbell. Whatever was causing it, with any luck it would be something that could be dealt with quickly and easily, with no one any the wiser. A few pills, maybe a change in diet, something straightforward that wouldn’t distract from the job, or more importantly something he could handle by himself.
But whatever the thing was, Chris thought as he paid the delivery guy for his beef chow mein, it needed to be sorted soon.
7
The narrow hallway was dimly lit, half blocked by a bicycle and a pushchair. Reilly squeezed past and stopped outside number twenty-three. She was reluctant to continue; she felt out of place in the dingy apartment block with her smart two-piece suit, her body language different from the confident persona she projected in her office and in the lab.
Slowly, she pushed on the door. It was unlocked and opened easily into the dark apartment. She stepped cautiously inside.
The hallway was short, just enough room for a small table, a couple of coat hooks and some worn old shoes. It led directly into a small living room.
She moved to the doorway of the living room, still stepping cautiously, taking everything in. She glanced around – the TV was on, the sound turned down low, and even though it was the middle of the day, the curtains were drawn, filling the room with shadows.
Reilly paused in the doorway and her nose picked up the reek of booze mixed with a pungent stench of stale food – leftover takeout, she guessed.
Finally, she stepped cautiously into the room. A body was on the couch, sprawled out on his back, one arm hanging free and touching the floor, mouth wide open.
Reilly walked around the couch and looked down at him. He was pasty with an unhealthy looking complexion, unshaven, his curly hair thinning.
She reached out
‘Emma, when will you realize that I don’t need a matchmaker and I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself?’
‘Oh really, and when’s the last time you did that? It’s over two years since you and Melanie ….’ Chris could hear the discomfort in Emma’s tone at the mention of his ex and his mouth tightened. No need to remind him.
‘Honestly, Chris, you need to get out and enjoy yourself more,’ she continued quickly. ‘It’s great that you’re so dedicated to work, but one of these days you’re going to wake up and realize you’re an old man.’
‘Thanks, Emma, exactly what I need to hear after a hard day on the job.’
Little did she know that Chris was already feeling like an old man, and he wondered if he should confide in his friends about what was going on. He knew that Emma liked to mother him, particularly after losing both of his parents within a year of each other, but if he told them what was going on she’d be on his case night and day to do something about it. No he wouldn’t say anything just yet, but maybe if it got any worse.
‘You know what I mean. All work and no play. You need to relax more, take time out for yourself now and again.’
‘Well, even if I wanted to, Sunday’s no good for me anyway,’ he lied. ‘I’ve got something else on.’ Just then the doorbell rang and he smiled, grateful for the interruption. ‘Sorry, but I really have to go; my dinner’s here.’
‘More takeaways?’ Emma sounded horrified. Glad of the opportunity to avoid another lecture, Chris bade her a quick goodbye and promised to see them all soon.
He knew she was only trying to help, but he genuinely wasn’t interested in a relationship these days. Not that he’d have time for one anyway, and as for being a workaholic and a loner, at least he wasn’t a demon for the drink like a lot of guys in the force. In fact, alcohol was more of a social thing for him and as Emma had so delicately pointed out, he hadn’t done much of that in a while.
Which meant that hard living definitely wasn’t the cause of his current problems either, he thought, wincing as he stood up to answer the doorbell. Whatever was causing it, with any luck it would be something that could be dealt with quickly and easily, with no one any the wiser. A few pills, maybe a change in diet, something straightforward that wouldn’t distract from the job, or more importantly something he could handle by himself.
But whatever the thing was, Chris thought as he paid the delivery guy for his beef chow mein, it needed to be sorted soon.
7
The narrow hallway was dimly lit, half blocked by a bicycle and a pushchair. Reilly squeezed past and stopped outside number twenty-three. She was reluctant to continue; she felt out of place in the dingy apartment block with her smart two-piece suit, her body language different from the confident persona she projected in her office and in the lab.
Slowly, she pushed on the door. It was unlocked and opened easily into the dark apartment. She stepped cautiously inside.
The hallway was short, just enough room for a small table, a couple of coat hooks and some worn old shoes. It led directly into a small living room.
She moved to the doorway of the living room, still stepping cautiously, taking everything in. She glanced around – the TV was on, the sound turned down low, and even though it was the middle of the day, the curtains were drawn, filling the room with shadows.
Reilly paused in the doorway and her nose picked up the reek of booze mixed with a pungent stench of stale food – leftover takeout, she guessed.
Finally, she stepped cautiously into the room. A body was on the couch, sprawled out on his back, one arm hanging free and touching the floor, mouth wide open.
Reilly walked around the couch and looked down at him. He was pasty with an unhealthy looking complexion, unshaven, his curly hair thinning.
She reached out
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