No Mark Upon Her

couldn’t afford for Craig to get even an inkling of an idea that they actually had something on him.
    “Yes, you should know,” he said. “But it’s complicated. And there may be—repercussions. I promise I’ll tell you as much as I can, as soon as I can.”
    They’d reached the car park. He stopped, turning to her. “Look, Imogen. I really do have to go. But in the meanwhile, just keep a reasonable eye on Freddie. I think he’ll be more cooperative now. And don’t tell anyone we have a witness in a connected case. Got that?” He jabbed a finger at her for emphasis. “Anyone.”
    A lthough Kieran had badgered all and sundry—especially Tavie, who had no control whatsoever in the matter—about getting back into his boatshed, now that he’d been given permission, he found himself delaying.
    After Superintendent Kincaid had left, Kieran tidied the flat, finished the washing, and made himself a cheese and pickle sandwich for lunch although he still felt guilty about eating Tavie’s provisions. Perhaps he’d pick up some things for dinner on his way back . . .
    On his way back from the shed.
    Sitting at Tavie’s small table, holding his half-finished sandwich, he saw that his hands were shaking, and he realized he didn’t want to go home. Not to stay. Not yet.
    He was afraid. Afraid of what he might find, of who he would be, if he’d lost everything that had begun to make him feel like a whole person again.
    And he was afraid, full stop. Noise and smoke and flames and panic—they were all still much too close.
    But if he didn’t go back now, when would it be any easier?
    The dogs were sitting at his feet, gazing up at him expectantly. “All right, you greedy buggers.” Kieran broke the remaining half of the sandwich into two pieces. “Down,” he said, and both dogs dropped like felled marionettes, then inhaled the offered treats in matching gulps.
    “Okay. Good dogs. All gone,” he told them, rubbing his slobbery fingers on his jeans as he looked at their eager faces. He had backup, after all, he thought, right in front of him, ready and willing.
    And he could make a small deal with himself. That was one of the things he’d learned in these last two years, and he couldn’t afford to forget it. You didn’t have to tackle things all at once. Small steps led to bigger steps.
    He would go, but he would take the detective superintendent’s advice and come back to Tavie’s house, at least for tonight. There was no shame in that.
    B y the time Kieran reached Mill Meadows, both he and the dogs were panting. Having made up his mind to go, he’d jogged, not giving himself a chance to waver, and he’d been grateful that the clear, dry day seemed to be holding his vertigo at bay.
    He slowed when he realized there was a man standing on the pedestrian path just across the water from the boatshed, gazing at it.
    The man wore jeans and a long-sleeved dark blue T-shirt, but no jacket, in spite of the cool breeze. And even though he appeared slightly disheveled, there was something indefinably elegant about him. When he turned, Kieran recognized him instantly.
    It was Freddie Atterton, Becca’s ex-husband.
    “I know you,” said Atterton, his glance going from Kieran to the dogs. “I saw you that day, on the search team.”
    Kieran felt the hair stand up on his arms. He nodded cautiously. “That’s right.”
    “I don’t know how to thank you,” said Atterton. “And the dogs,” he added. “They’re brilliant.”
    Finn and Tosh, who always seemed to know when they were being talked about, wagged appreciatively and sat. No alarm there.
    “Yeah, they’re great.” Kieran stroked Finn’s head and Tosh nosed him and then Atterton, seeking her share of attention, and Atterton gave a good rub to both dogs.
    What the hell did you say, Kieran wondered as the silence stretched, to the man whose ex-wife had been your lover?
    Freddie Atterton smiled, as if he’d read his mind. “I know about you and Becca,” he said. “Superintendent Kincaid told me. That’s not why I’m here.”
    “Okay.” Kieran waited, feeling stranger and stranger, and tried to keep his eyes from straying to what remained of his home.
    “Well, I have to admit to a bit of curiosity,” said Atterton. “Wouldn’t be human otherwise, I suppose. But mostly I came to see if you could repair Becca’s boat.”
    “The Filippi?” It was the last thing Kieran had expected.
    “Apparently it has a crack in the hull. I haven’t