Knife Edge (36 page)

They walked across the swing bridge near the Arnolfini building, pausing to look along the old dockside with its cranes and warehouse buildings to a distant terrace of multicoloured houses on the hill overlooking the river.

‘I often come down here,’ Harland told her. ‘There are some beautiful spots around the old harbour.’

He pointed out towards the curved facade of a building across the water.

‘If you go along that way, there’s a path that takes you right along the riverside …’

He stopped and turned to look at her ruefully.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m doing all the talking. And don’t feel you have to be dragged along – tell me if you want to stop somewhere.’

‘No, it’s OK.’ The uneasiness had passed, and she seemed happy again. ‘We can keep going.’

They followed the cobblestone quayside around the side of the Arnolfini and walked out onto the gentle arch of Pero’s Bridge. Halfway across, a pair of buskers were playing a beautiful rendition of ‘Ave Maria’ – one on violin, the other on cello – and Kim held back a little to hear them finish.

‘You too?’ Harland said softly, as she brought a hand up to touch her chest.

She nodded. ‘I’ve always loved that piece of music.’

On the far side of the bridge, they wove their way through the sounds and smells of the Watershed market, stopping to sample olives from a quayside vendor before they emerged from the covered walkway and turned left onto Park Street. As they came to the foot of the hill, Kim pointed at a large mural painted on the plain end wall of a building.

‘Is that a Banksy?’ she asked.

‘That’s right,’ Harland replied. He gazed up at the stencilled image: a life-sized open window, revealing an angry-looking man in a suit and a woman in her underwear standing behind him while her naked lover hung by one hand from the window ledge.

‘Always makes me smile,’ he murmured. There was an odd excitement about seeing something so familiar with her beside him – like seeing it for the first time. He turned to face her. ‘Do you feel like a coffee? I know the perfect place …’

They made their way up the hill, slowing now and again to nose in the little shop windows. Near the top, Harland stopped outside a cheerful-looking café.

‘What would you like?’ he asked her.

‘Um …’ Kim studied the menu in the window. ‘Just a cappuccino, please.’

‘OK. I won’t be a moment.’

‘There are seats inside,’ Kim frowned. ‘Aren’t we going in?’

Pausing in the doorway, Harland looked over his shoulder at her.

‘This isn’t the place I meant,’ he said.

Coffees in hand, they turned off Park Street and made their way up a steep side road. The pavement climbed suddenly, a flight of worn stone steps leading up to a raised section of aged flagstones. Below, garages and storerooms opened out onto the street, while on their right-hand side a stepped terrace of beautiful old townhouses marched down the hill. There were more of the covered balconies here, their ornate ironwork painted white and cascades of trailing plants hanging down above their heads. Kim gazed up at them as she walked, a faint smile on her lips.

At the top of the incline the narrow street abruptly angled left and sloped down into the city again, but a set of steps led on into a park. They made their way up, passing under the shadow of some old-established trees to emerge on a sloping pathway that wound steadily higher as it curved round the side of an open, grassy hill.

To their right, trees and bushes circled the summit, where a sturdy stone tower stood proud and tall against the sky, but Harland followed the path on until it broadened out into a flat area on a lower crest. Here, high above the city, a line of benches sat at the top of a long slope, gazing out across the tiny streets and houses and on towards the far green hills and the horizon.

‘Oh!’ Kim walked over to the edge. ‘What a view!’

‘
This
is the place I was talking about,’ he smiled.

She stood there for a moment, sipping her coffee and gazing out into the distance. Behind her, Harland reached into his pocket and drew out his cigarette packet, then frowned and put them away again.

Not now.
If they were going to kiss, he didn’t want the taste of smoke to put her off. He moved forward to stand at her side. Sunlight glittered on the leaves of the trees below the glorious blue sky.

‘So, what do you think?’ he asked. ‘Better than the café, isn’t it?’

She smiled and slipped her small hand into his.

He was being so sweet. Standing here, on this grassy hill with the whole of the city spread out below them, she felt oddly free. Squeezing his hand, she saw his face break instantly into a smile.

So honest. So unguarded. So opposite to everything she’d known before.

She turned back to stare out across the city – the sloping streets, the sturdy old buildings, the colourful houses. It felt welcoming, inviting.

But it wasn’t home.

With Rob still out there, it was hard to think of anywhere as home.

She took a couple of steps and sat down on one of the benches. Graham stood a moment longer, and she glanced across at him – a lean silhouette against the bright sky. He was a good person – she felt sure of that now. At first, she’d been wary of his offer to stay, waiting for him to make a pass or try and take advantage of her, especially after the way she’d behaved that first, drunken evening. But the pass had never come. She knew he wanted her, but he’d seemed content simply to hold her when he found her in his bed the following night. He made her feel safe.

She bowed her head and sighed. It wasn’t right. She should really find her own place before things went too far. Before she screwed things up. Before he got hurt.

‘You should see the sunsets from up here.’ He was speaking again and she raised her head to look at him as he stared out at some distant memory. ‘It’s like sitting on the edge of the world.’

‘Graham?’

Something in her tone of voice must have warned him. He turned and looked at her, doubt clouding his face.

‘You’ve been really good to me,’ she began. The fact that he really had made her feel even worse.

‘That’s all right.’ He was guarded now, wary of what was coming next.

She bit her lip, then sighed.

‘It’s not all right though,’ she said, avoiding his gaze. ‘I feel as if I’m taking advantage of you.’

That was true as well.

‘You’re not.’ He said it flatly, as though it were a simple, obvious fact. ‘I’m happy for you to stay with me.’

‘But—’

‘I
want
you to stay.’ There was no pleading, no desperation, but she knew he meant it.

‘I’m not sure I can do what you want …’ She hesitated as it dawned on her what she had meant to say, then added, ‘I’m not sure I can
be
who you want.’

His eyes left hers, and for a long moment he stared out towards the skyline. Finally, he bowed his head.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked, but it was obvious from the hollow tone in his voice that he understood; he just needed to hear her speak the words.

‘You lost your wife.’ She hated herself for saying it, but it couldn’t be helped. ‘You lost your wife, and I found out I was living with a murderer.’ She shook her head. ‘We’re both … running away from really bad things.’

She expected him to walk away – to get to his feet, snarl some cold rebuke and stride off down the hill – but he didn’t. She could see the upset in his face, but he mastered it and turned back to her, holding her gaze steadily.

‘So?’ Just the one word, spoken softly, as though inviting her to hit him again.

It was impossible. Couldn’t he see she was trying to spare him?

‘You’ve been so sweet – you’ve been so kind …’ She reached out a hand and gently touched the side of his face. ‘I just don’t want you getting hurt.’

‘What makes you think I’m going to get hurt?’

‘Because I’m bad luck to be around,’ she snapped. ‘Sooner or later, I
always
screw things up.
OK
?’

‘I don’t believe that.’ He didn’t flinch, just carried on looking at her.

‘It’s true,’ she insisted. ‘I always drive people away. I always have.’

Her father. Her mother. Even Rob. Everyone who ever cared for her, and she had pushed them all away.

‘Do you want to drive
me
away?’

She looked up sharply. ‘What?’

‘I said, do you want to drive
me
away, Kim?’

‘No, of course not, but—’

‘Then don’t.’ Again, the matter-of-fact tone, as though it were as simple as making a decision. ‘I
want
to be with you, that’s the choice I’ve made. Stop worrying about me and let’s just see where things go.’

She lowered her eyes, but he leaned forward and held her gaze.

‘Please, Kim …’

She stared at him, not knowing what to say. What more
could
she say?

‘Kim?’

Slowly, she moved her head close to his, gave him a sad little smile and kissed him. As her eyes closed, she felt his arms enfold her and she rested her head against his shoulder.

She had warned him.

It had been a frustrating couple of weeks.

When Kim hadn’t returned to the guest house in Taunton, Naysmith had been mildly annoyed, but not particularly concerned. Standing at the window of his room in the small hours of the morning, gazing down at the half-empty car park, he assumed that she had spent the night with Sarah. In the morning, he’d risen early and driven across town to check the streets around her sister’s house.

No sign of her car. No sign of her.

Two days later, he’d passed through Taunton late at night, checking both locations, and again on his way back from an appointment in Exeter the following week. Still nothing.

Kim had disappeared.

Part of him was annoyed that she’d given him the slip, but on another level he knew it would help to prolong the chase, and that was a positive.

Back at home, he found himself restless, rattling around a house that suddenly seemed a little too big, a little too quiet. Annoyed at his own foolishness, he stretched himself out lengthways across the sofa, staring up at the ceiling, watching as the dark wooden beams reflected the flickering glow of the TV set.

He needed to pick himself up, test himself so that he felt alive again. It was a pity that she’d gone when she had. He’d loved the thought of her selecting his targets. Whom might she have picked out for him next?

He leaned across, taking a glass of gin from the table beside him and sipping reflectively before returning it to its coaster and letting his head ease back onto the armrest. If only she hadn’t chosen to go to the police …

He paused as the glimmer of an idea came to him.

But she
had
chosen. She had chosen the police!

He stared up at the ceiling, a cold smile spreading across his face.

Yes.
A most fitting target, and there was an elegant symmetry to the whole thing.

He dropped his feet to the floor and rolled upright into a sitting position.

Who better to represent the police than the man who had almost caught him before? The man whom he could so easily have killed …

Naysmith nodded to himself. He and Detective Harland had unfinished business to resolve. They’d actually met twice, though Harland didn’t know it. Once, when they’d raced along the Docklands waterfront in the small hours of the morning, two silhouettes running through the darkness, until he’d got the drop on the detective and left him unconscious. And before that, they’d passed within inches of each other when Naysmith had, rather recklessly, followed him into a pub in Portishead …

Portishead. That was the place to start.

But he couldn’t afford to be reckless this time. Harland must surely have seen his photograph by now, so he would need to be extremely careful if he was to track down the detective without being spotted. And of course, the nature of his job meant it would be almost impossible for Naysmith to take him when he was at work.

But what an accomplishment it would be. What a challenge!

He would need to get to know Harland, understand his routine and learn where he went. It would be fascinating to study his adversary, and that would surely make the conclusion of the chase so very satisfying.

And then, once he’d dealt with Harland, he would devote his attention to Kim.

He was busy for the next few days, and it was Monday before he was able to slip a false appointment into his work diary. He woke early, but lay in bed for some time, knowing that there was no point rushing. He already knew where his target worked.

After a leisurely breakfast, he finally set off just before eleven, locking the door on the empty house behind him. There was no need for elaborate cover stories or careful excuses now – it was just him and the target today. Like it used to be, in the days before Kim.

He sighed and walked across to the car. Sliding in behind the wheel, he started the engine, then sat for a moment, flicking through the radio channels, looking for something that would distract him.

He was intrigued by Harland and found himself eager to know more about him. What lay beneath that grim exterior? What sort of man was he?

And he wondered how he would feel about his adversary when the time came to finish things.

Frowning, he put the car into gear, and set off out of the village.

He followed the valleys, coasting along quiet roads through rolling green countryside as far as Bath. There he turned aside, hopping on the motorway to skirt around the north side of Bristol, then sweeping down the M5 as it crept out towards the coast. The sun was hot now, and there was a deep blue sky behind the towering red cranes and pale wind turbines that broke the horizon. Anticipation stirred in him as he saw the sign for his exit and moved across to the left-hand lane, but he mastered his impatience, reminding himself that this was only the beginning of what ought to be an intriguing game.

He stopped at some motorway services for a dreadful lunch and several cups of coffee, finally driving into Portishead late in the afternoon. Getting there too early would have been dangerous – a lone man spending the whole day sitting in his car would surely attract attention, and he couldn’t afford that.