Free Driftnet by Lin Anderson

go.’
    ‘I’ve changed
my mind.’
    ‘Why?’
    She didn’t
answer. Couldn’t answer.
    ‘If it’s about
the woman in the Art Gallery...’
    She didn’t want
to talk about her so she interrupted. ‘I can’t leave the lab. We
haven’t finished the murder tests yet.’
    ‘Fuck the
murder tests.’ He came towards her.
    ‘Don’t!’
    ‘Don’t what
Rhona?’
    ‘Don’t touch
me!’
    He stopped in
his tracks and the look he gave her froze her chest. She hadn’t
meant to say it like that. She didn’t want him to touch her because
it would make her go with him and she couldn’t go and she couldn’t
tell him why.
    She had never
seen him angry before. He turned from her and headed for the
door.
    ‘Sean,’ her
voice was a whisper.
    His was cold,
remote. ‘I’ll phone you when I know where I’m staying,’
    She had nodded,
unable to argue any more. Now she felt suddenly bereft. She didn’t
want him to go like that, didn’t want him to go at all. She wanted
him here. She wanted to tell him what was really wrong. Tell him
about this nightmare. Let him talk sense into her. But that would
mean revealing herself. And she couldn’t do that. Not now. Perhaps
not ever.
    Her heart was
drumming in her chest. The cat dropped from the back of the couch
and wrapped itself around her legs, miaowing. She bent to stroke
its head and its neck stretched to run with her hand.
    As usual,
everything important has been left unsaid, she told herself. She
had simply created more ghosts between them.
    Sean hadn’t
believed her excuses about the tests. He knew she was lying. They
weren’t short-staffed any more either. Tony was back from his
holiday in Mexico. In fact it was something Tony said that had
given her the idea, that she might pretend to go to Paris with
Sean.
    ‘I agree with
Chrissy,’ he’d told her. ‘You look like shit.’
    ‘Thanks
Tony.’
    ‘You need a
break. Go with lover-boy to Paris, have endless sex and leave me to
run this lab the way I want. For a week at least.’
    So she’d
agreed. She told Chrissy she would go. She even went out with her
after work on Thursday to buy new underwear for the trip.
    But it was all
a lie.
    She had lied to
Sean, made him think she was going. Until the last minute. The
cruelty of her actions frightened her. She made excuses, saying to
herself, if he could see another woman on the quiet, she could keep
the truth from him.
    Rhona switched
on the gas fire, sat down on the couch, picked up a cushion and
hugged it to her. The cat jumped up lightly and rubbed itself
against the cushion, manoeuvring it into shape before it plopped
down on top. Rhona stroked the velvety ears and the purring settled
into a pleasant drone that began to calm her. If she had tried to
tell Sean about the nightmares, she thought, she would have to
explain why the boy’s death haunted her. He had been with her long
enough to know that dealing with death was not normally a problem
for her. She would have had to tell him about Liam. And she had
never told anyone about Liam.
    So she phoned
the number the hospital had given her. A woman answered. Sensing
her reluctance to speak and the likelihood that the phone would be
put down, the woman suggested calling in to talk things over with a
counsellor. Rhona made an appointment.
    When the time
came, she’d managed to find a million reasons why she couldn’t go.
Instead, she waited for an evening when Sean was playing at the
jazz club, and phoned Edward at home. She explained about the
murder and the birthmark and told him she had to know what had
happened to their son.
    The silence at
the other end was as deep as the chasm between them. Edward cleared
his throat. He didn’t think that would be wise but, and here he
interrupted her angry reply, if she insisted on this line of
action, there was someone he knew who might help. Rhona must agree
to say nothing about any of this to anyone, not even her
Irishman.
    And she had
agreed.
    ‘I’ll phone you
back,’