The One
Page 12
However, Amy’s admission that she was a police officer was a curveball. He’d been so wrapped up in keeping tabs on his other activities that it hadn’t occurred to him that he should check her background. He’d taken it for granted that all women were like the ones he targeted – gullible, lacking his intelligence and too trusting. A police officer would be none of these things.
Finding one’s Match had meant little to Christopher and he hadn’t planned on meeting her again. Their date had started as nothing more than a result of his mild curiosity, but now suddenly it had become interesting. Very interesting indeed.
‘A police officer?’ he repeated with a fixed smile. ‘That must be an engaging job.’
‘It can be,’ Amy replied proudly. ‘I’m a detective sergeant and it’s hard work, especially when you’re based within the Metropolitan Police. You can end up working all the hours God sends. But it’s a career for life if I want it to be.’
‘I don’t know much about the inner workings of the police,’ Christopher lied. ‘What is it that a detective sergeant does? Or is “investigate” better terminology?’
‘Either works,’ she said, and sipped her vodka and orange juice through a straw. ‘I’ve been seconded to the fraud squad for the last six months.’
‘What does that involve?’
Christopher failed to listen to Amy’s response because he didn’t care for the intricacies of a role in a department without any relevance to him, so he slipped into autopilot and pretended to appear interested instead. He maintained eye contact as she chatted, nodded where he thought a nod belonged and smiled where fitting. But inside, all he could dwell upon was the hilarious irony for the woman sitting opposite him to be Matched with the man who the Sun newspaper had branded ‘Britain’s Most Evil Killer’.
Christopher was anxious to ask about the case that had dominated every television news bulletin for the past three weeks, but he didn’t want to appear over-eager. However, after half an hour of polite conversation, his ego got the better of him.
‘So what’s happening with that serial killer who’s been all over the news then?’ he asked casually, cutting into his mushroom tartine. ‘How many women has he murdered, is it five now?’
‘Six, well, six that we know about, but the team investigating is following various leads,’ Amy replied cagily. It was the same officially sanctioned answer he’d heard in televised police press conferences.
‘You don’t want to talk about it, do you?’ he asked. ‘I’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me to ask.’
‘It’s not that I don’t want to.’ Amy placed her fork to the side of her plate. ‘Nothing makes the press go into overdrive more than when there’s a serial killer out there somewhere. There haven’t been many of them in recent years.’
There are four active serial killers at any one time in Britain, Christopher wanted to inform her, and you’re having dinner with one of them.
Amy continued, ‘There have been a lot of leaks in the press lately, so we’re not supposed to be talking about the case to anyone.’
‘So I’m just anyone, am I?’ Christopher asked, and offered his best puppy-dog eyes. This made her cheeks flush. He was determined to tease the truth from her; he’d yet to meet a person he couldn’t manipulate in one way or another.
‘Sorry, that’s not what I meant.’ Amy smiled and Christopher was pleased to see there were no crumbs of food trapped between her teeth.
‘Well, let me change the subject,’ he said. ‘What made you do the Match Your DNA test?’
Amy looked him in the eye, clearly relieved to be back on a topic more suitable for a first date. ‘A lot of public sector workers like me take it because we don’t have time to enter the dating scene. It sounds quite mercenary, but it’s the best way of cutting out the middle man. You know, finding that person who’s meant for you without having to go through all the nutters to get there. And you?’
Christopher’s mind raced back to the books on relationships he’d highlighted with fluorescent marker pens, excerpts of what women wanted to hear from a prospective partner. He was quite convinced he’d already reeled Amy in by simply possessing the DNA that connected them, but whatever he said next needed to hit the right emotional note.
‘I joined to find the other half who would make me whole,’ he began, and held her gaze as the books instructed. ‘I wanted to meet the one who accepts me for who I am, who loves me for all my faults and my quirks, and who will be there by my side for whatever challenges come our way.’
Christopher tilted his head slightly to one side and shrugged, almost apologetically, as if to emphasise his sincerity. A peculiar feeling enveloped him for a second time, making his head feel woozy and his skin sensitive.
Suddenly the corners of Amy’s mouth began to waver and she laughed. ‘Are you serious?’ she giggled. ‘You sound like you’ve just read that from a self-help book.’
Christopher’s mask slipped and he felt something akin to embarrassment – one of many emotions he was aware existed but had rarely experienced. ‘Have I said something wrong?’ he asked, genuinely baffled.
‘No, no, oh God, oh God,’ Amy said. ‘You were being serious, weren’t you? Oh, I’m sorry, it just sounded a bit … cringe, that’s all.’
‘Oh,’ said Christopher, still muddled, questioning whether Amazon had been recommending him the right books.
Amy leaned forward and spoke quietly but confidently. ‘Look, Christopher, this is how I see it. You and I have been Matched, which means we don’t have to do all the things we did when we were dating other people. You don’t have to stand outside the restaurant window and be deliberately late to put me on edge, you don’t have to try to impress me by name dropping the posh part of London where you live, you don’t need to subtly inform me that the magazines you design aren’t for people like me and you certainly don’t need to choose the priciest wine on the menu. We can move straight to the getting-to-know-each-other part and seeing what happens without the games. And right now – and this may have something to do with hormones, chemistry or the three vodkas and one glass of wine I’ve just drunk – but I might explode if I don’t have sex with you very, very soon. Like, now, soon.’
Christopher was taken aback. He hadn’t met a straight-talking woman like Amy before; she was beginning to excite him and he wanted to know what made her tick. The fact she was a policewoman should have scared him off, but it had the opposite effect and he could feel himself becoming aroused by their cross-purposed interaction.
‘Um, of course,’ he answered, and beckoned the waitress for the bill. He paid in cash, like he always did, and within ten minutes they were driving back to her house.
Chapter 18
JADE
Jade removed the phone from her ear and glared at it in the palm of her hand, almost as if it were the phone that was the problem, and not the fact that her Match had just told her he didn’t want to see her.
She had travelled for almost two days from England and, as she stood at the top of his driveway readying herself to meet him, she’d wondered what the hell was going on.
She must have misheard him, she told herself, and called him back. When it went straight to voicemail, she called again. And once more, just in case.
Finding one’s Match had meant little to Christopher and he hadn’t planned on meeting her again. Their date had started as nothing more than a result of his mild curiosity, but now suddenly it had become interesting. Very interesting indeed.
‘A police officer?’ he repeated with a fixed smile. ‘That must be an engaging job.’
‘It can be,’ Amy replied proudly. ‘I’m a detective sergeant and it’s hard work, especially when you’re based within the Metropolitan Police. You can end up working all the hours God sends. But it’s a career for life if I want it to be.’
‘I don’t know much about the inner workings of the police,’ Christopher lied. ‘What is it that a detective sergeant does? Or is “investigate” better terminology?’
‘Either works,’ she said, and sipped her vodka and orange juice through a straw. ‘I’ve been seconded to the fraud squad for the last six months.’
‘What does that involve?’
Christopher failed to listen to Amy’s response because he didn’t care for the intricacies of a role in a department without any relevance to him, so he slipped into autopilot and pretended to appear interested instead. He maintained eye contact as she chatted, nodded where he thought a nod belonged and smiled where fitting. But inside, all he could dwell upon was the hilarious irony for the woman sitting opposite him to be Matched with the man who the Sun newspaper had branded ‘Britain’s Most Evil Killer’.
Christopher was anxious to ask about the case that had dominated every television news bulletin for the past three weeks, but he didn’t want to appear over-eager. However, after half an hour of polite conversation, his ego got the better of him.
‘So what’s happening with that serial killer who’s been all over the news then?’ he asked casually, cutting into his mushroom tartine. ‘How many women has he murdered, is it five now?’
‘Six, well, six that we know about, but the team investigating is following various leads,’ Amy replied cagily. It was the same officially sanctioned answer he’d heard in televised police press conferences.
‘You don’t want to talk about it, do you?’ he asked. ‘I’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me to ask.’
‘It’s not that I don’t want to.’ Amy placed her fork to the side of her plate. ‘Nothing makes the press go into overdrive more than when there’s a serial killer out there somewhere. There haven’t been many of them in recent years.’
There are four active serial killers at any one time in Britain, Christopher wanted to inform her, and you’re having dinner with one of them.
Amy continued, ‘There have been a lot of leaks in the press lately, so we’re not supposed to be talking about the case to anyone.’
‘So I’m just anyone, am I?’ Christopher asked, and offered his best puppy-dog eyes. This made her cheeks flush. He was determined to tease the truth from her; he’d yet to meet a person he couldn’t manipulate in one way or another.
‘Sorry, that’s not what I meant.’ Amy smiled and Christopher was pleased to see there were no crumbs of food trapped between her teeth.
‘Well, let me change the subject,’ he said. ‘What made you do the Match Your DNA test?’
Amy looked him in the eye, clearly relieved to be back on a topic more suitable for a first date. ‘A lot of public sector workers like me take it because we don’t have time to enter the dating scene. It sounds quite mercenary, but it’s the best way of cutting out the middle man. You know, finding that person who’s meant for you without having to go through all the nutters to get there. And you?’
Christopher’s mind raced back to the books on relationships he’d highlighted with fluorescent marker pens, excerpts of what women wanted to hear from a prospective partner. He was quite convinced he’d already reeled Amy in by simply possessing the DNA that connected them, but whatever he said next needed to hit the right emotional note.
‘I joined to find the other half who would make me whole,’ he began, and held her gaze as the books instructed. ‘I wanted to meet the one who accepts me for who I am, who loves me for all my faults and my quirks, and who will be there by my side for whatever challenges come our way.’
Christopher tilted his head slightly to one side and shrugged, almost apologetically, as if to emphasise his sincerity. A peculiar feeling enveloped him for a second time, making his head feel woozy and his skin sensitive.
Suddenly the corners of Amy’s mouth began to waver and she laughed. ‘Are you serious?’ she giggled. ‘You sound like you’ve just read that from a self-help book.’
Christopher’s mask slipped and he felt something akin to embarrassment – one of many emotions he was aware existed but had rarely experienced. ‘Have I said something wrong?’ he asked, genuinely baffled.
‘No, no, oh God, oh God,’ Amy said. ‘You were being serious, weren’t you? Oh, I’m sorry, it just sounded a bit … cringe, that’s all.’
‘Oh,’ said Christopher, still muddled, questioning whether Amazon had been recommending him the right books.
Amy leaned forward and spoke quietly but confidently. ‘Look, Christopher, this is how I see it. You and I have been Matched, which means we don’t have to do all the things we did when we were dating other people. You don’t have to stand outside the restaurant window and be deliberately late to put me on edge, you don’t have to try to impress me by name dropping the posh part of London where you live, you don’t need to subtly inform me that the magazines you design aren’t for people like me and you certainly don’t need to choose the priciest wine on the menu. We can move straight to the getting-to-know-each-other part and seeing what happens without the games. And right now – and this may have something to do with hormones, chemistry or the three vodkas and one glass of wine I’ve just drunk – but I might explode if I don’t have sex with you very, very soon. Like, now, soon.’
Christopher was taken aback. He hadn’t met a straight-talking woman like Amy before; she was beginning to excite him and he wanted to know what made her tick. The fact she was a policewoman should have scared him off, but it had the opposite effect and he could feel himself becoming aroused by their cross-purposed interaction.
‘Um, of course,’ he answered, and beckoned the waitress for the bill. He paid in cash, like he always did, and within ten minutes they were driving back to her house.
Chapter 18
JADE
Jade removed the phone from her ear and glared at it in the palm of her hand, almost as if it were the phone that was the problem, and not the fact that her Match had just told her he didn’t want to see her.
She had travelled for almost two days from England and, as she stood at the top of his driveway readying herself to meet him, she’d wondered what the hell was going on.
She must have misheard him, she told herself, and called him back. When it went straight to voicemail, she called again. And once more, just in case.
