The Honeytrap: Part 4 by Roberta Kray

20
    If there was one thing Harry Lind didn’t need at the end of a long hard day it was to be standing in his living room staring down the barrel of a gun. His gaze flicked between the small black revolver and the pale strained face of Ellen Shaw. Her eyes were wide, strange, flashing with brightness. He breathed in deeply, trying to slow the hammering of his heart. His words, even as they came out of his mouth, sounded ridiculous.
    ‘What are you doing?’
    Ellen inclined her head, an odd twisted smile appearing on her lips. Her hand shook a little as she continued to point the gun at him. ‘You’re always asking questions. Why is that? Why can’t you just let things be?’
    ‘Sorry,’ he said gently. ‘Too many years as a cop. It’s a hard habit to break.’
    ‘Questions,’ she muttered, frowning. ‘I’m sick of them. Sometimes there aren’t any answers.’
    Harry forced a smile, knowing that he had to find a way of connecting with her. It was as though between climbing the stairs and entering the flat she had become a completely different person. ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘You could be right.’
    ‘
He
was always asking questions.’
    ‘That can’t have been easy.’ Harry had no idea who she was referring to. Could she mean Adam, or Danny Street? Maybe it was someone else entirely. He kept his gaze fixed on her while he made a few rapid mental calculations. There was no point in even attempting to grab the gun – she was too far away and there was every chance, in her current state, that she’d go ahead and squeeze the trigger. No, he’d have to try and talk her round. ‘Some people don’t know when to leave well alone.’
    ‘I told him. I told him to give it a rest, but he wouldn’t. And then …’ Ellen sighed. Her eyes darted to the left and right before focusing back on Harry. ‘You don’t understand. You might think you do, but you don’t.’
    Harry stayed very still. ‘I can try. But maybe you should put down the gun first. Those things have a nasty habit of going off.’
    Ellen ignored the suggestion. ‘He’s gone now,’ she said. ‘He’s not ever coming back. That’s just the way it is.’
    ‘I get it,’ Harry said, even though he didn’t. ‘Just put the gun down, yeah?’
    ‘And now you’ve started following me around. I don’t understand why you’re doing that.’
    Harry slowly shook his head, taking care not to move any other part of his body. ‘I’ve not been following you. I didn’t know you were going to be at the Lumière. It was just chance. I was there on a job; I was working.’
    ‘Right. But then you showed up at the flat. Perhaps you were working there too?’
    ‘I can explain that. Someone from the office, someone who lives near you, saw you going into your house on Saturday night.’ It wasn’t exactly the truth, but he didn’t want to feed her paranoia. Revealing that Jess had followed her to Stoke Newington wouldn’t do much for her trust issues. ‘They gave me a call, told me where you lived.’
    ‘So you’ve been talking about me?’
    ‘I just mentioned that I’d seen you, that’s all. They knew I was worried and got in touch.’
    ‘Nice of them.’
    ‘There was nothing sinister about it. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.’
    ‘And then?’
    ‘And then what?’
    Ellen glared at him. ‘And then you thought it was all right to come round, to hassle me, to start with all the questions again. You have to leave me alone. I don’t want to see you or hear from you or … or anything.’
    ‘I get it,’ Harry said again. ‘I do. It’s crystal clear. And if that’s what you want, that’s fine. I’ll stay away. I promise. But why don’t you sit down? We may as well have that coffee before you go.’
    What Harry did next was risky. He turned round and walked slowly back into the kitchen without looking over his shoulder. With every step he expected to hear a shot, a sudden explosive rifting of the air. He held his breath through one