Altered Egos Read Online Free

what to do next. He followed the soldier as the man walked slowly towards the house. They’d almost reached the door when a voice behind them called, ‘Steve, Steve.’
    They turned. Nash saw a young woman standing on the pavement close to his car. He glanced sideways at Hirst, saw the momentary tension in the soldier’s face relax. ‘Sonya.’ Hirst’s voice was emotionless.
    She walked towards them. Nash was guilty of totally inappropriate thoughts as he admired her looks, her striking figure. He shook himself mentally, ridding himself of the incongruity of his reaction, given the occasion.
    ‘Steve, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say.’ She looked at Nash and her tone became sharp. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded. The sharpness was what, hostility? Nash wondered.
    ‘This is Inspector Nash,’ Hirst explained, ‘he drove me here from …’ Hirst was unable to use the word, ‘Netherdale,’ he substituted. ‘This is Sonya Williams,’ he told Nash. ‘She’s our neighbour. My neighbour,’ he corrected himself. ‘Her husband was killed in Helmand Province six months ago.’
    ‘Sorry, Inspector Nash.’ She held her hand out. ‘I thought youwere military. They’re not flavour of the month round here at the moment.’
    Nash took her hand and held it for a moment. ‘I can understand that,’ he said quietly. ‘Please, call me Mike.’ He released his grip before either of them became embarrassed.
    ‘Can I get you both anything, cup of tea, or coffee? You’ve nothing in the house,’ she told Hirst. ‘I cleaned your fridge out. I thought it better than having the food go off.’
    ‘That was thoughtful of you,’ Nash spoke for Hirst, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. ‘I don’t know about you, Steve, but I could do with a coffee.’
    ‘I suppose so.’ Hirst glanced over his shoulder.
    ‘I live across the road’ – Sonya pointed to her house – ‘directly opposite Steve.’

    Nash looked at the room, decked out for Christmas, cards and tinsel everywhere. On the dresser there was a large photo of a man in uniform, the medals on his chest gleaming; her husband, obviously. Next to it was one of Sonya with two young children alongside her and an infant in her arms.
    ‘Admiring my brood?’ Sonya had come in with a tray of coffee and biscuits. She set it down on the table and passed mugs to the two men.
    ‘I was thinking how difficult it must be for you, on your own,’ Nash said.
    Sonya shrugged. ‘As a soldier’s wife, you get used to it.’
    ‘I didn’t mean that, not exactly,’ Nash smiled. ‘I was thinking more about having to make all the decisions without having anyone to bounce ideas off, that sort of thing.’
    She nodded, acknowledging the accuracy of his guess. ‘That’s the hardest part. You look round, or you think of a question to ask; then you remember. Perceptive of you to notice.’
    ‘What did you mean?’ Hirst spoke for the first time since they’d entered the house.
    Nash and Sonya turned in surprise. ‘Sorry?’ Nash asked.
    ‘When you said you understood. Did you mean something, or were you just saying it? It sounded like you meant it.’
    Sonya looked from Hirst to Nash, saw the detective’s face change; saw the mask come over his features. The easygoing, pleasant expression had vanished, replaced by a hard, almost pitiless gaze. ‘I do understand,’ Nash spoke slowly, reluctance obvious. ‘I’ve been there. I know what you’re going through. Not as badly, perhaps, but the feeling’s the same.’
    ‘How can you know what I’m feeling?’
    Nash sighed. He realized there was nothing for it but to explain.

    Later, two mugs of coffee later to be exact, Nash stood up. ‘Look, I’m going to get out of your way now. But what I said earlier goes.’ He passed Hirst a card. ‘If you need me, give me a call. Not just official stuff. If you want somebody to sound off at, to listen, or go for a pint, anything. Don’t hesitate. Pick up the