Sycamore Gap: A DCI Ryan Mystery(80)
She sighed.
“I know, and I’m sorry. I just couldn’t face going back up there, not after everything that happened.”
“That’s all in the past,” he said, with a flick of his wrist.
“Is it? Sometimes I think I’ll never forget the sight of him above me, knife poised –”
“Don’t dwell on it,” Mark interjected. “He was out of control; a madman. Thankfully, he was stopped before it was too late.”
“If Ryan hadn’t made it back in time …”
Mark cast his eye around the room with its warm tones and scattered frames of Anna and Ryan in various settings. How neatly the man had slotted into her life, Mark thought. Yet he, who had known her since she was a child, still remained on the outside, forever looking in.
“How about life at the university?” He diverted the conversation neatly away from Ryan’s heroics.
“Oh, never a dull moment,” Anna replied gaily, but there were shadows around her eyes. Her long-limbed body had always been slim, but it was looking especially slender in the casual summer shorts and loose t-shirt she wore. He tried not to notice the length of her legs or the smooth curve of her cheek as she turned to rest her cup on a side table.
“I’m glad you visited,” she began and, fool that he was, he felt a flush of happiness at the sentiment. “I’ve been meaning to pick your brain about something.”
Of course, he thought.
“How can I help?”
“Do you remember Jane Freeman?”
Mark took his time finishing his tea, replacing the cup and saucer with care.
“Yes, of course. She was one of my PhD students, whilst I was still working at the university. I believe she was appointed one of the senior archaeologists for National Heritage in the region, with particular oversight of Hadrian’s Wall territory. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no special reason; curiosity, mainly. Ryan has had some dealings with her, recently, as part of an investigation he’s been working on.”
“Ah, yes,” Mark said knowingly. He, too, had seen the interview Ryan had given. “Those girls found inside the wall?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“Jane was rather ambitious for my taste,” Mark continued, crossing one chino-clad leg comfortably over the other. “She always managed to convey the impression that she would sell her own grandmother if she thought she could get ahead.”
“Yes, I’m afraid I had the same impression,” Anna agreed, grudgingly. One of the things her mother had always taught her was that, if she didn’t have anything kind to say, it was better to say nothing at all. Sadly, experience had taught Anna that she was much more human than that, and much less forgiving.
“I take it she’s been flapping around the site, making life difficult?”
Mark smiled, the tiny crows feet beside his eyes crinkling with shared understanding.
“I think so,” Anna nodded. “Then again, Ryan always seems so capable of handling himself and other people. I can’t think of anybody who has ever concerned him, except perhaps the man who killed his sister, of course.”
Mark listened, but said nothing.
“I’m not sure I could say the same,” Anna admitted.
“You’re still troubled by what happened, on the island?”
She nodded, looking away briefly. She felt that she could tell Mark her woes; he had known her since she was a young girl with scuffed knees and fading bruises. He had shown her kindness and what it meant to be a friend. He had seen her progression, from the girl with the dysfunctional family, to the woman seated before him. Not without scars, not without hurts, but stronger for them.
“Maybe I just need more time.”
“I’m sure that’s it,” he nodded. “Unless … would it be a stretch to assume there are similar overtones in Ryan’s present case? Young girls being killed, in a site of historic importance …” he trailed off.
She sighed.
“Not to mention the dates,” he observed. “You’d have to be blind not to notice the significance, after recent events.”
Anna felt her chest tighten. She had hoped that Ryan was right, that it was just somebody using the date as a snub to the Holy Island murders, but what if they were wrong? What if her secret fears had a real foundation and the Circle still existed?
Mark saw the fear crossing her expressive face and reached across to pat her hand. He wished he could have done more. Instead, he said,
“I’m sure that Ryan has things well in hand.”
Anna smiled weakly. It would be disloyal to say otherwise, to express her worries for Ryan’s health and the toll that the investigation was taking on him even after only a few days. Last night had been the worst so far. After visiting Keir Edwards, he had clawed at the bed like a maniac, fighting Edwards all over again in his sleep.