Dreaming of the Bones

come to bed, though, for she had a faint memory of the warmth of his body, and she didn’t remember putting out the light.
    She’d dreamt she was falling—not floating, but plummeting into some dark abyss, and even recalling the sensation brought a resurgence of panic. Sitting up, she focused on the clock’s glowing red numerals. Half past one. She slipped out of bedand groped for something to put on. Her fingers found his dressing gown, and when she’d fastened it round her and pushed her hair from her face, she went out to look for him.
    Kincaid sat in the middle of the sitting room floor, amid a sea of books and papers. He’d changed from his work clothes into jeans and a pullover, and his uncombed hair flopped down onto his forehead.
    ”What are you doing?” asked Gemma.
    He looked up at the sound of her voice. ”Couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you.” His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion.
    ”But what’s all this?” Coming to sit on the edge of the coffee table, she leaned down to stroke Sid, who had made himself comfortable on the largest stack of paper.
    Kincaid made a vague gesture at the things surrounding him. ”Vic’s manuscript. And anything else I could find that seemed to be related to Lydia Brooke.”
    ”You took Vic’s papers?” said Gemma, shocked into full wakefulness. ”But that’s—”
    ”Interfering with the evidence? Well, I suppose that’s true enough, and I’ll answer to Alec for it if I have to. But in the meantime, I don’t know where to start.” He rubbed his hands over his face. ”I can separate Vic’s handwriting from Lydia’s in the loose papers, but that’s about as far as I’ve managed. And it will take me days just to read the manuscript,” he added, his frustration evident in his voice.
    ”Then come to bed, please,” said Gemma. ”There’s no point in any of this until you hear the results of the postmortem. You know that. And being exhausted won’t help you deal with whatever comes tomorrow.”
    ”You’re too sensible by half, Gemma darling,” he said, sighing. ”I’ll be along in a minute. I promise.”
    He was as good as his word, for Gemma was still awake when he came quietly into the room and undressed in the dark. His skin felt chill where it brushed hers as he slipped into bed beside her.
    ”You’re cold,” she said. She turned to him, pressing her body to his, and felt him stiffen against her embrace. Wondering if a sense of disloyalty lay behind his resistance, she said carefully, ”I don’t imagine Vic would want you to be alone, love. Why don’t you let me hold you?”
    He was silent for so long she thought he might not respond, but finally he said, ”I’m afraid. I’m afraid to let go. I keep telling myself that I hadn’t seen her for years—that she had no place in my life now—but it doesn’t help this terrible sense of loss.” He paused, then added quietly, ”I hope I’m wrong about this, Gemma, about what happened to her. Because if someone killed her, and left her dead, or dying, for Kit to find, I swear I won’t rest until I find him.”
    The certainty of his words frightened her. Ranting she could discount as hysteria, and offer soothing platitudes, but for this chill resolution she had no answer. And if she, who had only known Vic for a few hours, grieved for her, how could she hope to take away any of his pain?
    Helplessly, she said, ”Don’t think of it now, love. It will be all right,” knowing the words to be meaningless, knowing that things would never really be all right. She stroked his face, and blindly he turned his head until his mouth rested against her palm.
    The warmth of his breath and the touch of his lips against her skin sent an unexpected shiver of desire through her, and she gasped a soft, ”Oh.”
    He took her hand in both of his and kissed it gently, and then again with a growing fierceness. When she moaned, he gathered her roughly into his arms and began to make love to her with passion of such intensity that it might have been anger, and she couldn’t be sure if he thought of her at all.
    But Gemma let herself be carried away, and in the end it washed them both into the comfort of a deep and dreamless sleep.

    All through Wednesday morning he tried to concentrate on preparing for the Crown Prosecution Service the evidence he and Gemma had gathered on their latest case. But whenever he blinked, images of Vic flickered on his closed lids like the silent home movies of