Closer Still Read Online Free

in danger.’
    â€˜He’s a professional police officer,’ demurred Daniel. ‘He’d …’
    â€˜Yeah,’ said Brodie ironically. ‘Right.’
    But Daniel was insistent. ‘He needs to know. And he needs to hear it from you, when he has a chance to calm down before doing something he’ll regret, rather than from Loomis somewhere public.’
    Reluctantly, Brodie conceded that. If Deacon was going to lose his temper – and Deacon was going to lose his temper – it had to be far enough away from Loomis that he didn’t flatten the man, bin his career and squander his best chance of putting the little thug away all in ten hotheaded seconds. ‘All right,’ she agreed, ‘I’ll tell him. I’ll phone him now.’
    But Daniel shook his yellow head. ‘Not in his office. In yours. I’ll take Jonathan back to my place. Pick him up on your way home.’
    Â 
    Brodie was never sure if she was good at relationships or very bad at them. She’d had what she’d thought was the
perfect marriage – but it ended when John Farrell was swept off his feet by a plump librarian. After that she’d tried friendship – and what she had with Daniel was as close as a friendship could be without turning into something else. Though it began with her doing him a great wrong, it developed into something of sweeping importance to both of them and restored her faith in humanity in general and men in particular.
    But she was aware, even as she drew strength from it, that it was more what she wanted and needed than what Daniel did. Unable to persuade her that the next step was right for both of them, he’d quietly taken it alone. Brodie knew that if the need arose he would die for her. And if what she felt for him wasn’t love too she didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t the same love he felt for her. She felt sad about that, and guilty, and wished it were otherwise, but she wouldn’t lie to him and he wouldn’t want her to. He thought that truth was the silver bullet.
    And then there was Deacon. What she got from Deacon was pretty much what she wanted as well. By some miracle, she thought their on/off, do-it-when-we’ve-time partnership met most of his needs too – certainly better than the full-on commitment of a marriage, family of four, mortgage, dog and timeshare in Ibiza would have done. She didn’t feel guilty about Deacon, at least not often. But she wasn’t sure if the relationship was a success or not.
    It was getting to be a long time since she was a fulltime wife and mother racing to have the house nice for when her husband came home. She would never be that girl again, and had no wish to be; but a tiny private voice
at the back of her brain wondered if she was missing out. If it would be nice to do the suburban hostess-trolley thing again. And if it would, whether it would be even possible to do it with Deacon.
    When Daniel left with the baby, pushing the fancy buggy the short distance along the Promenade to the netting shed he’d made his home, Brodie called Deacon’s mobile. ‘Can you talk? Or are you in hot pursuit?’
    â€˜Hot pursuit of last month’s crime figures,’ grunted Deacon, his phone sandwiched between shoulder and ear. ‘And a decent cup of coffee.’ From the way he raised his voice Brodie realised this wasn’t addressed to her.
    All the same … ‘Can’t help with the crime statistics. But I’ve got the kettle on. And I’ve something to tell you.’
    Not until she saw his face at her door a scant six minutes later did it occur to her that what he thought she had to tell him was news from the hospital. He’d known about Jonathan’s appointment, had cemented two and two together with a good dollop of fear and got twenty-two. ‘What did Millership say? Are his eyes getting worse?’
    Brodie had to do a quick