Free Splinter the Silence by Val McDermid Page B

it.’ He offered her the tablet and sat back. ‘It’s got narrative, which might appeal to you. And it looks good.’

An hour later, she surfaced, dazed. ‘Christ, this is addictive,’ she groaned.

‘But you haven’t craved a drink all night, have you?’

She glared at him. ‘So that’s how it goes, is it? Replace one addiction with another?’

‘Whatever works. And it’s not like you’ve had a shit time, is it? If you stick with it, it won’t take over your life. At least, I don’t think it will. I love gaming. It helps me work things out. And yes, there have been times when a new game has kept me up pretty much all night. But mostly, I just play for an hour or two, when there’s nothing urgent needs dealing with. And then I put it to one side. It’s a less demanding mistress than drink or drugs, I promise you.’

She looked mutinous for a moment, then she yawned. ‘I’ll take your word for it. But right now, I need to sleep. If you’re going to be around for a while, I need to install a second bathroom.’

‘I don’t mind sharing.’ He sounded almost wistful.

‘Maybe not, but I do. I’ve lived alone for a long time, and I don’t like my ablutions dictated by someone else’s timetable. Besides, it was the next job on my list after plaster-boarding the end wall. You can help me with the plumbing.’ She stood up and patted him on the shoulder. ‘Thank you.’ And then she was gone. It wasn’t much, but it was more than enough for him.
     
    For once, Stacey was almost relieved to have her penthouse to herself. Sam and his team were out celebrating a double arrest in a violent armed robbery, and they’d both agreed that him staggering in pissed in the small hours would be a satisfying experience for no one. So he was spending the night in his own flat, a modern box in Kenton Vale overlooking the scabby park that the developers had claimed was about to be given a makeover. They hadn’t made it clear that the makeover would be in a downward direction. Sam didn’t care. ‘Do I look like a man who takes a walk in the park?’ he’d said. What he liked best about his building was the basement gym where he could hone his muscles in relative peace and quiet. Stacey would have killed herself before she’d be seen in a gym. She liked having an apartment that was big enough to accommodate a pilates ball and a yoga mat so she could follow her own, private fitness regime. But if the price of Sam moving in was one of those big multi-function gym machines in her space, she’d learn to live with it.

Not that living together was on the agenda. Well, not yet anyway. And although Stacey often fantasised about how wonderful it would be to share their lives even more completely, she had to admit there would be a downside. When would she find the time to invade other people’s systems, never mind write her own code? How would she keep secret from Sam the extent to which she was privy to all sorts of data that was supposed to be held safe behind firewalls and real walls? It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. She did, of course. But his desire to do the right thing – like telling Blake about Carol’s drink habit – could be dangerous, given some of the information Stacey came by in the course of her compulsion to creep around other people’s confidentiality.

Take tonight. How would she explain that to Sam? He liked concrete lines of investigation, not this vague trawling around in the dark on a whim. He’d think she was wasting her time. Worse, he’d think she was pandering to her old boss, unable to let go and move forward as he had done.

He wasn’t a big fan of Paula’s either. He thought she’d been Carol Jordan’s teacher’s pet, that she got preferential treatment when assignments were being handed out. Stacey wondered if he was a little bit jealous of Paula’s success rate. She was, after all, the queen of the interview room and that was so often where the case was wrapped up.