Blue Genes - By Val McDermid Page 0,73

something so revolutionary was going on. And it doesn't give any clue as to who was actually treat¬ing you, does it? Unless the real Helen Maitland knew Sarah Blackstone was using her name, she's got no way of guessing. And if she did know, then presumably, she was in on the secret too. I really don't think you should worry about it, honestly," I lied. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her for her stupidity. With a secret that held as much threat for her and her daughter, she should never have taken so outrageous a risk. Given that her mother faced a lifetime of discretion, I didn't rate little Siobhan's chances of making it to adulthood without being taken into care and treated like an experimental animal in a lab. Instead, I made my excuses and left.

I hadn't found a serious suspect yet among the women who had been Sarah Blackstone's patients. I hoped I'd still be able to say that when I'd finished interviewing them. I cared far too much for Alexis and Chris to want to take responsibility for the hurricane of official and media attention that would sweep through their lives if I had to open that particular corner of Sarah Blackstone's life to public scrutiny.

Sometimes I think Alexis is psychic. I'd driven home thinking about her, and there she was on my doorstep. But it only took one glimpse of her face to realize she hadn't propped around to say how gratified she was at my concern for her. If looks could kill, I'd have been hanging in some psychopath's dungeon praying for the merciful end that death would bring.
Chapter 18
Ask people what they think of when they hear the name Liverpool and they'll tell you first about the Scouse sense of humor, then about the city's violent image. Tonight, Alexis definitely wasn't seeing the funny side. I'd barely got out of my car before she was in my face, the three inches she has on me suddenly seeming a lot more. Her tempestuous bush of black hair rose around her head like Medusa on a bad hair day and her dark eyes stared angrily at me from under the lowering ledges of her brows. "What in the name of God are you playing at?" she demanded.

"Alexis, please stop shouting at me," I said quietly but firmly. "You know how it winds me up."

"Winds you up? Winds you up? You put me and Chris in jeopardy and you expect me to care about winding you up?" She was so close now I could feel the warmth of her breath on my mouth.

"We'll talk about it inside," I said. "And I mean talk, not shout." I ducked under the hand that was moving toward my shoulder, swiveled on the balls of my feet, and walked smartly up the path. It was follow me or lose me.

Alexis was right behind me as I opened the inside door and marched into the kitchen. Mercifully, she was silent. Without asking, I headed for the fridge freezer and made us both stiff drinks. I pushed hers down the worktop toward her and after a long moment, she picked it up and took a deep swallow. "Can we start again?" I asked.

"I hired you to make some discreet inquiries and cover our backs, not stir up a hornet's nest," Alexis said, normal volume resumed.

"My professional opinion is that talking to other women in the same position as you is not exposing you to any danger, particularly since I have not identified you as my client to any of the women I have spoken to," I said formally, trying to take the heat out of the situation. I knew it was fear not fury that really lay behind her dis¬play. In her stressed-out-place, I'd probably have behaved in exactly the same way, best friend or not. "I had a per¬fectly credible cover story."

"Yeah, I heard that load of toffee about lesbian history," Alexis said derisively, lighting a cigarette. She knows I hate smoking in my kitchen, but she clearly reckoned this was one time she was going to get away with it. "No flam¬ing wonder you set off more alarm bells than all the bur¬glars in Greater Manchester. It's not on, girl. I asked you to make sure we weren't going to be exposed because of Sarah Blackstone's murder. I didn't expect you to go around putting the fear of God into half the lesbian mothers in Manchester.