Death Day Read Online Free Page B

happily.
        He shrugged, 'I ran out of things to do. You were the last resort.' He smiled as she punched him on the arm.
        'Cheeky sod,' she giggled. 'I was just going for lunch.'
        'I know.'
        'My God, you're not a policeman for nothing, are you?' she said sarcastically, trying not to smile.
        He slapped her hard across the backside. 'Come on, Miss Librarian, let me buy you some lunch.'
        
***
        
        The nearest cafe was busy but they found a seat near the window and Debbie sat down while
        Lambert fetched the lunch, picking food out from beneath the plastic fronted cabinets. He returned with a laden tray and began unloading it onto the table.
        As they ate, she told him about her morning's work and about the kids. He smiled a lot. A little too much perhaps. She reached across the table to clutch his hand.
        'You all right?' she asked.
        He nodded, 'I walked down here to meet you,' he told her, 'I needed the air.'
        She smiled, then trying to sound brighter, 'Were those letters anything important this morning?'
        He told her about the bill. 'The other one was from my mother.'
        'What did she have to say? Or do you want me to read it when I get home?'
        'I tore the fucking thing up,' snapped Lambert.
        Two women on the table next to them looked round, and the policeman met their stare. They returned quickly to their tea, and gossip.
        'What did it say?' asked Debbie, squeezing his hand tighter.
        He shrugged and took a sip of his tea before answering, 'The same old shit. Same as always. I don't know why the hell she can't just leave me alone. I never asked her to start writing in the first place.' He slammed his cup down with a little bit too much force, making a loud crack.
        The two women looked round again and this time Lambert thought about saying something. But he returned his gaze to Debbie. Her eyes were wide, searching his own, trying to find something that lay beneath his visible feelings.
        There was a long silence between them. The only sound was that of many voices talking at once, each lost in their own world, making sense alone but, combined, becoming a noisy babble of nonsense. People around them chatted about the weather, their families, their jobs. The everyday monotony of life.
        'I phoned the station,' said Lambert, at last.
        'Why?' asked Debbie.
        'I wondered if there was anything I could do, or if they needed me.'
        Debbie looked at him reproachfully, 'Tom, the doctor told you to rest. You're not supposed to be at work. Sod the bloody station. They can run things without you.'
        'I can't sit at home all day doing nothing,' he protested, 'it's driving me crazy.'
        'Well, going back to the station isn't going to help either.'
        'At least it might give me something else to think about. That's what I need, something to take my mind off what's been happening. You don't understand what it's like, Debbie,' he gripped her hand. 'I relive that bloody accident, that night, every time I visit Mike's grave. Even when I'm not there, it's still with me, you don't forget something like that easily.'
        'No one expects you to. Just stop blaming yourself.' She didn't know whether to be angry with him, or feel pity.
        'Shit,' he said it through clenched teeth, his head bowed.
        She watched him for long seconds, a feeling of total helplessness slowly enveloping her. Finally he looked up and swallowed hard, 'I'm sorry,' he whispered.
        'Don't be,' she told him.
        He shook his head, moisture brimming in his eyes. He exhaled deeply, 'I asked Hayes to get in touch with me if they need me anytime.'
        She opened her mouth to speak but he raised his hand, 'It's the only way, Debbie. I'll go off my head otherwise.'
        They finished eating. He looked across the table at her and smiled. She glanced