Chapter Twenty-six

Robin emerges from a nightmare just before dawn the next morning, to Strike's worried expression, so she automatically says, "I'm okay." And then she wakes up enough to notice that part of the dream has literally spilled over into real life, though thankfully there isn't much moisture in the bed. "Shit, I wet the bed a bit. I'm sorry."

Strike gently pushes the few sweaty strands of hair from her face and says, "Hey, if we're apologising for symptoms, I owe you a hundred or so."

He's right. "Yeah, okay." Sitting up, Robin says, "I'll just grab the spare towels."

She stops when Strike puts a hand on her arm, and he offers, "No, go get cleaned up. Have a shower if you want to. I'll fix this."

Robin meets his gaze, to see tender concern looking back at her. If it had been pity, she might argue, but her husband is probably the one person in her life who can understand this situation, so she kisses him and accepts, "Okay, thanks."

After a toilet break and short but refreshing shower, Robin returns to find Strike in an apparently pristine bed, and he extends a hand, saying, "Come here."

She obeys, to find that he's ditched the soiled bottom sheet, replacing it with the dry top sheet. Safe and sound in his arms, she resists the urge to again apologise, instead saying, "Thank you."

Strike kisses her forehead and says, "Any time. It's hardly surprising that you'd have a nightmare, given we were hunting for dump sites yesterday. Want to talk about it?"

"Not really," springs from her, but he's earned an explanation, so she soon continues, "I was back in the box at Chapman Farm. They kept me in there so long that I wet myself." When Strike tenses, she can guess part of his concern, and says, "Still not your fault. I volunteered, even had to persuade you."

Strike twitches a shrug, but says nothing. Several seconds pass before he reveals, his voice barely audible, "I do owe you an apology though."

Another long pause makes Robin aware that she hasn't acknowledged him, so she gently prompts, "Oh?"

After a deep, unsteady breath, Strike reveals, "When you made your case for going undercover, I had the fleeting thought that time away from Murphy could put a strain on your relationship, and I'm worried that might be a tiny part of why I finally agreed."

If anyone but her husband had told her this, she would assume they were lying or delusional, but it must be the truth. Strike is again tense, and she can think of nothing to ease his concern, so settles for, "That's pretty fucked up."

For some reason, that makes him relax—perhaps because she hasn't fled his embrace—and he says, "Yeah, I know. I'm so sorry, Robin. I was a fucking mess back then, which is no excuse, because you going on a first date with Murph made me finally admit how I felt about you, that I was in love with you and had been for quite some time."

Thinking back, Robin remembers, "You were still in hospital, after Gus stabbed you. Strike, that was over a year ago."

"Almost a year and a half, yes."

Robin considers this confession for long enough that Strike squirms a little, no doubt wondering how much trouble he's in. In the next breath, she decides to leave it in the past. She is, after all, in bed with the man who just voluntarily cleaned up her mess without a word of complaint. "You're an idiot."

He huffs a soft chuckle and says, "Agreed. I'm sorry."

"Not for that, for not telling me. I only dated Ryan because finding out about Madeline was such a blow that I finally had to admit that I was in love with you."

"Seriously? I thought you still didn't fancy me back then?"

"Come on, Strike, you must have known."

"No, I swear. I wondered, I hoped, but you were always professional, and there was that disastrous almost kiss outside the Ritz. I honestly had no idea that you were in love with me so long ago."

"Well, I was, and that's why I dated Ryan, because there seemed no chance with you, and I had to see you practically every day, so I needed to move on."

"Then, we're both idiots?"

Robin laughs and agrees, "So it would seem, but you still owe me recompense."

Strike groans and asks, "Masham?"

Robin laughs again and says, "No, they'll be here tomorrow. A crime this big needs some thought. I'll get back to you." When he makes no reply, she asks, "Strike?"

"Yeah, okay. So, we're good?"

Unwilling to move, even to kiss him, Robin runs a hand over his chest and says, "We're good, but I'm tired."

"Then sleep. Want me to leave you alone?"

Adjusting her position against him, until she's incredibly comfortable and toasty warm, Robin says, "Never."

Strike is still waiting for Col at the hotel in Penzance when Robin calls him from St. Mawes, and he greets her, "Find anything?"

"The scanner didn't show up anything, but something seemed off, so I went around basically on my hands and knees to have a good look. Has anyone been cleaning this place?"

"If you mean a proper spring clean, no. Luce wants to get someone local to do that before we put it on the market. You and I were the last to visit and you know that I only ran the vac over the kitchen floor."

"Then I think someone else has been here. A few of the wall sockets are cleaner than others, which is exactly what I noticed just before I found the bug in my room."

Fuck. Feeling grateful to Lucy for removing all of Ted's personal possessions when he went into care, Strike asks, "Did you touch any of the sockets?"

"I'm not an amateur, Strike."

He laughs in relief—if Robin is offended, she's not freaking out—and says, "Sorry. Did you call Wardle?"

"Yeah, and he said to ask if they could have been tampered with by someone in the fam...I mean, other than Stephen."

"Did Stevie say when Whitehall visited Cornwall?"

"Last weekend in October. He left on the Thursday and returned her car that Sunday evening."

"Right, call Wardle back and tell him all that and the fact that no one should have been inside that place since you and I were there early October. Do you want me to ditch and get Col to drive me to you, instead? I'm sure he wouldn't mind. You'll probably have to hang around there for a while."

"No, I'm okay. Eric said I might have a long wait for the local police. It's hardly an emergency. Edith across the way already said hello, and offered me a cup of tea. Oh, what should I tell her? All I said was that I'm checking on the place. She sends congratulations, by the way."

Smiling at memories of Ted's nosey but nice neighbour, Strike says, "Tell her the truth, I guess, but with as little detail as you can manage, because whatever you say will become local gossip. The cops will want to interview her anyway, in case she saw anything. Maybe take her up on that cup of tea, but first tell Wardle that's where you'll be. Whichever of us finishes first hightails it to the other for a hug, okay?"

"Darling, I really am fine. It's so nice here that I'm finding it impossible to be afraid."

She's probably at least partly lying, to ease his anxiety, and he jokes, "Maybe I'm the one who'll need a hug."

Robin laughs and tenderly accuses, "Liar." Her sigh is audible, and then she says, "I'd better get this done. Hug you soon, Husband."

Wishing that he could teleport to her arms, Strike signs off with, "Soon, Wife."

The next time the detectives speak is a couple of hours later when Strike calls Robin, and she answers, "Anything?"

"Bo indicated near the brambles."

"Indicated?"

"When he finds human remains, he sits down and looks to Col for his treat, which is exactly what happened. He was literally quivering, which apparently means there's little doubt. Just to be sure, Col had a break and then ran him by the area again; same result. There's almost certainly a body or body part at the bottom of that well."

"Wouldn't it be too deep?"

"Doesn't matter. Bo can sniff out bodies even if they're under water. If he hadn't become arthritic, he'd still be working, despite his advanced age."

"So, what happens now?"

"Col called it in, and I phoned Wardle for his opinion. As expected, it's not enough for a warrant to search, but it is enough to put focus back on the case. In the meantime, we have unofficial permission to keep at it, so long as we stay away from the scene. How are you?"

"Good. The police are here. I don't know what Eric told them, but they're being very respectful and professional. I worried that they might think I'm some sort of flake."

Strike laughs at the absurdity of it, and says, "Rob, you're the least flaky woman I've ever met."

"Thank you, darling. I'm glad you think so."

"I'm sure everyone who's met you would agree with me." When she says nothing, he asks, "Robin?"

"Nothing. Hey, it's nearly time to meet up with Mr. Goldberg. I think you should go without me."

"And how would I explain being without my wife on our honeymoon?"

He's sure Robin is smiling when she suggests, "Tell him that I kicked you out of our marital bed for making unreasonable demands." Strike is already laughing when she adds, "That should get the ball rolling."

When he can stop laughing, Strike says, "I love you."

"And you can prove it again in a few hours. See you soon."

"Not soon enough."

"No, never soon enough. I love you."