Geraldine turned to see her former sergeant, Ian, towering over her.
‘You saved me a stamp,’ he grinned, reaching into his pocket.
He pulled out an envelope, only slightly crumpled.
‘What’s this?’
‘An invitation.’
‘Another do?’
‘Ian’s not leaving, more’s the pity,’ someone called out.
‘No life of freedom for him,’ Ted laughed.
‘He can kiss that goodbye,’ another voice added.
Geraldine smiled, understanding that she had been handed an invitation to Ian’s wedding.
‘You’re really doing it then?’
‘Finally. The wedding’s in December. I hope you can make it.’
‘Work permitting.’
‘Such commitment,’ he said, shaking his head at her as though her dedication was something shameful.
‘That’s why she’s a DI on the Met,’ Ted told him.
‘And there I was putting it all down to your brilliant mentoring,’ Ian replied.
Ian put the invitation in her hand. She was pleased to see him looking so happy. Last time they had spoken he had been stressed over his wedding plans. Ignoring an unexpected stab of dismay, she smiled at him.
‘I hope it’s all going smoothly now?’
He shrugged.
‘I’m leaving everything to Bev.’
‘I’m sure that’s the best thing to do.’
‘Yes, except that now she’s complaining I’m not involved. Seems I can’t win.’
‘It’ll be fine once you’re married,’ she reassured him.
She was surprised to see how her words cheered him up. What did she know about marriage?
Although she was pleased for him, as she slipped the envelope in her bag she felt strangely abandoned. They had worked so closely together in the past, it was almost like losing a friend. Of course she knew his marriage wouldn’t make any difference to the way he behaved towards colleagues, and in any case she hardly saw him any more since her move to London. She shrugged the feeling off as several other officers joined them. They all quizzed her about the capital, as though they couldn’t possibly imagine what it would be like to live there.
Geraldine mumbled something about having been too busy to explore London life, which was no exaggeration.
‘What with the move, and then I’ve been involved in a couple of tricky cases –’
‘Nothing you can’t handle, I’m sure,’ someone said.
Geraldine paused, remembering Ingrid’s frenzied attack, Linda’s despair, and the horrific injuries sustained by Patrick Henshaw, George Corless, Maurice Bradshaw and John Birch.
‘I bet they aren’t as friendly on the Met as we are,’ a constable chipped in.
Geraldine recollected Sam’s spat with Nick after his outrageous comment about a rape victim. “She probably asked for it.” No one spoke like that about Ingrid’s victims, although there was no way of knowing what appalling behaviour on their part had provoked her attacks.
‘They’re friendly in a different way,’ she said, shrugging off her troubling memories.
It was strange to return to the camaraderie of her former work colleagues. Looking back on her time in Kent, she realised they had been a close-knit team. Although they hadn’t all been on first name terms, as was the norm in London, they had all known one another. Looked at from outside, the familiar form of address adopted by her colleagues in London seemed superficial. She experienced a fleeting regret at having moved away from Kent.
‘So you’re OK in London?’
Ian was at her side. He always seemed to sense when she was feeling despondent.
‘It’s different –’
She hesitated, tempted to confide her reservations. But now was not the time. She hoped Ian’s future wife appreciated his sensitivity and consideration, and realised how lucky she was to be marrying him.
It was late when Geraldine arrived home at the end of a tiring day, with one last task to carry out before she went to bed. Sitting at her desk she sent an email to her father, telling him how much she had enjoyed seeing him again, and giving him her new address. Then she went to bed, without setting her alarm for the morning.
First published in 2013
by No Exit Press
an imprint of Oldcastle Books
P O Box 394,
Harpenden, AL5 1XJ
www.noexit.co.uk
This ebook edition first published in 2013
All rights reserved
© Leigh Russell, 2013
The right of Leigh Russell to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
ISBN
978–1–84243–858-9 (print)
978-1-84243-859-6 (epub)
978-1-84243-860-2 (kindle)
978-1-84243-861-9 (pdf)
Typeset by Avocet Typeset, Chilton, Aylesbury, Bucks
For more about Crime Fiction go to www.crimetime.co.uk / @crimetimeuk
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Copyright
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