| Call Me Daddy
© Xeen PART 3 God! It was good to be back. London, the Thames, everything printed in your mind’s eyes that tells you’re home. She had missed her small flat, to her utter surprise. Though she never pictured herself as owner material in the past, it turned out it was only buyer remorse. She was never taught she could own her own place and be happy with it. In consequence, she did not bother to really settle in and most of her things were still packed up and stored against the walls or behind the sofa. Fortunately, she had had some time to tidy the place before leaving 5 months ago and she was proud to show Jack her “property”. This time, no danger of misplaced underwear, she had double checked. Jack had been right beside her at every step of the way during her training in the NYC force and she was forever grateful for his patience and what had become ultimately a true friendship. Not to mention lots of appreciative looks from female strangers when they occasionally picnic in Central Park or stroll down the streets to wear off the stress of the day. She had missed her neighbours and sweet little Haddiyah. They had spent hours on the telephone, making plans for when she’s back home, going through tough history lessons or puzzling math quizzes. She had missed her mother so much, though the poor soul could hardly remember her family, the loss of her husband, of her son and that her visiting daughter was very much alive and grieving. She had missed the quietness and pace of the Met and Winston’s cheerfulness. And Lynley. She had missed him a lot. More than she was actually allowed to miss him. But no one had to know she was infatuated with her boss. She turned the ignition key, went down the road and took left to London. Buchanan transportation had been taken care of by Evans. On automatic pilot, she let the car drive her to the Met through the dense morning traffic. That upper class thingie was not a clear issue any longer, she mused. She was beginning to think SHE had been the issue all along. She had managed to distance herself from Lynley and pushed him repeatedly into Helen’s arms not because she was sure he belonged with her. She was not so sure any more. After Deborah’s mess, he was entitled to happiness and clearly didn’t find comfort enough with Helen. When his wife eventually left him, Barbara was by his side all the way but still too afraid of the consequences this type of eerie relationship could muster. Not to mention the Met, the colleagues, well life as it was. Sleeping with her boss was out of the question. Despite her growing attraction, she had chosen instead not to act upon her feelings for him. When she was in New York, she thought it was normal to keep him updated, as her boss, on her life, her achievements and the fun she had, getting used to new techniques, making new friends, discovering sceneries she had seen but on the telly in The Sopranos or Sex and the City. She could feel that Lynley was actually very happy with her actual success and capable of having with her light and funny conversations over the compared merits of Miranda and Carrie. She relaxed. Too much. She was not ringing her boss for updates, she was confiding in a deeply missed lover. This decision was the hard part in her being away but talking to him every day was more uncanny than the dreadful doubt she drowned into every time, after hanging up the phone. Was he merely being polite? Did he enjoy talking to her as much as she did? Out of fear of being rejected in the end and aware she was only filling the void by constantly trying to second guess him, she stopped calling, adding withdrawal to longing. He did not bother to call her on her mobile to make sure she was all right. Well, he did bother, she pondered. Twice. She had missed both his calls and technically, she was the one who did not return them. She intended to provide him with no explanation then and she would bet he would never ask for one when she gets back. That was the trouble and exactly why she had stopped calling him in the first place: the constantly being kept in the dark part. She flashed her ID to the control panel and waited for the parking doors to open and then engaged 4 stories down. She was getting more and more nervous at the prospect of crossing his path in the lobby or at the coffee machine. She had been wearing her heart on her sleeve at some point and he might have known for certain she was smitten. He chose to go back to Helen which was the right thing to do, she thought. They shared not only education but also the same taste and the same interests. From her observer point of view, they were very similar. Only Helen was always the warm one. Nothing really scratches the veneer of his strict upbringing, she said to herself biting her inner cheek to the pulp. His promises came back empty after she gave everything she had, to fight and to defend him. I never asked him for anything, how could he guess? She stopped at her usual parking spot, put on the parking brakes and sprang out of the car, slamming the door shut. That was funny they kept it for her. She checked her watch: with all the daydreaming, she was almost late. This exchange programme had been her wake up call. Whatever might have happened between us, didn't, wouldn't and never will. And the fact is: they were friends. At least, she was hoping they still were. There is a thin line between friendship and love… maybe she was mistaken from day one. From the day she watched him erratically chasing his lost love in that meadow actually. She got on the lift and punched the button. Back to business. * Since she had been back, they had worked on different cases. Donald Connelly became her partner in the ‘moonlight rapist’ case when Lynley was away in Wales on a quizzical family murder. On that one, they teamed him up with the local police. Then, she was away in Glasgow to investigate a kidnapping with Sergeant Jimmy Durant. By the time she was assigned to a double homicide in Oxford, five weeks later, she was totally frustrated. Working had lost its appeal. She was missing Lynley professionally too. She began to toy with the idea that the NWPD would be more than likely pleased if she decided to enlist. At least, it would be a clear cut and an entirely new life. * Jack Buchanan had known from the start that she had a very serious crush on Lynley. His Lordship was all she could talk about except for the usual suspects: work, stress, fatigue. Their getting together at the pub, that first night back in London, was his idea to begin with. “Let me test the guy, Barb, make sure he’s into you and that he’s right for you. I’m good at these things. You remember Clyde Banks, 7th precinct? Happily married 11 years. 6 kids. Entirely my doing, well not the kids, mind you!” “I’m not a fan of marriage Jack,” she protested. “I told you already. For weeks, he wouldn’t stop ‘havisham’ me. And then he slept with miss pretty pants, clean as a whistle, tight ar… and asked me to get him out of the mess he had put himself into!” she snapped. “Barb, you’re overreacting, that doesn’t suit you. Don’t let jealousy or whatever rage you feel cloud your judgment. You’re better than these cheap feelings.” He hugged her. “Call him right the minute we’re back and I promise I’ll find out for you.” The American detective knew all the tricks and Lynley was one of the kind. Despite his perfect manners and posh accent, there was fire burning high behind the mask of the perfect gentleman. He applied the necessary pushes in the right places and watched Lynley react. “If I have not lost my touch,” Jack grinned, “you and Lord Charming are the perfect match. I’m 300% behind your pairing Barb and I offer my backing anytime!” Should she ever need it… * “Wanted to see me, sir?” Lynley asked, poking his head out of the door inside Evans’ office. “I am in a rush. I promised Thompson I will help him sorting out his files on the Devonshire case, you know, the three brothers…?” Evans waved him in impatiently. “Sit down Tommy. I reckon you haven’t heard.” “Heard Sir? I was interviewing witnesses down in Bromley. We just finished canvassing the area…” he began, sitting down gracefully on the seat opposite his superior. The Assistant Commissioner silenced him at once. “Tommy, I don’t want you to find out from anyone else but me.” Lynley paused, sensing urgency in Evans' tone, no anticipation whatsoever reflecting into his poised attitude. “Havers has been into an accident, we don’t know yet whether it’s serious. We found blood, a lot of blood actually,” he added, mumbling to himself. “When?” Lynley snapped. Was she all right? Even to his ears, his voice sounded hollow. “Less than two hours ago. I need you on the case Tommy.” “What case?” Lynley was pondering the information. He should have had this conversation with Havers long ago. I would never forgive himself if anything had happened to her. “She has been sent to Cornwall last week. The Parishioners’ Choir case?” Lynley nodded absently. She was in Cornwall. Maybe she’s gone to Howenstow to pay a courtesy visit to his mother. He knew the two of them had forged an unforeseen bond. “Apparently, her car was rammed into by an armoured truck,” Evans added. “The truck was found only 4 miles away from the crash site. The paint recovered from the truck matches Havers’ car. She was probably on something. From my point of view, this accident is clearly case related.” “Where was she taken, Saint Michaels? West Cornwall?” asked Lynley. “Oh… Tommy… you don’t understand, we found her blood, we did not find her…” TBC |
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