Helen had given up asking how she came by her information. There was always some newbie in uniform who would cough up information when caught in Emilia’s tractor beam. Whether intimidated by her or just keen to be rid of her, they gave her what she wanted in the end.
Helen looked at her, then walked off, pushing through the door back into the pub. Emilia fell into stride next to her.
‘Any working theories? I heard it was pretty savage.’
No mention of the heart. Was she ignorant of this little detail or teasing Helen with its omission?
‘Any idea who the victim is yet?’
‘Nothing confirmed, but as soon as it is you’ll be the first to know.’
Emilia grinned, but didn’t get a chance to respond.
‘Emilia, how nice to see you. Come to buy me a drink?’ Ceri Harwood was now hurrying over. Where had she sprung from?
‘On a journalist’s wage?’ Emilia countered good-humouredly.
‘Then allow me,’ Harwood replied, steering her towards the bar.
Helen watched them go, unsure whether Harwood had rescued her from Emilia or stepped in to prevent Helen irritating the fourth estate. Either way she was glad of the intervention. She shot a glance at her team. Happy, relaxed and already a few drinks to the good, they chatted animatedly, clearly pleased to have Charlie back.
Helen felt like the bad fairy at the christening. The one person unable to welcome Charlie back with an open heart. The team were oblivious to her, which provided Helen with the perfect opportunity.
There was somewhere she needed to be.
Helen climbed onto her bike and pulled her helmet on, rendering her temporarily anonymous. Turning the ignition, she tested the throttle, then kicked off the brake and roared down the darkened street. She was glad to see the back of Emilia and Charlie. She had had enough for one day – more than enough.
Rush hour was long gone and Helen cut easily through the empty streets. At times like this she really did feel at home in Southampton. It was as if the streets had been cleared for her, as if it were her city, a place where she could exist unmolested and undisturbed. Slowly her mood lifted. Not simply because of where she was, but because of where she was going.
Having parked up, she rang the bell three times and waited. The buzzer sounded – like a warm welcome – and she stepped inside.
Jake was waiting for her, the door wide open. Helen knew he didn’t do this for other clients – the dangers inherent in his business meant he always verified a client’s identity through the spyhole before opening the reinforced door. But he knew it was her – the three rings being their code – and, besides, he knew now what she did for a profession.
