Even a Diamond can be shattered...
After the owner of a security company is murdered, his sharp-edged wife goes on the run. Forced to abandon everything she holds dear - her home, her friends, her job in special ops - she builds a new life for herse...
Relief jostled with my anger. We had another chance.
Meanwhile, Test-tube dug out evidence bags and gathered everything up.
"I'll take this lot for analysis."
He'd cover all bases, but I doubted we'd find anything. Everyone and their dog watched CSI nowadays and knew not to lick the envelope, and I couldn't believe we'd be that lucky.
"Where was it posted?" I asked.
Test-tube turned it over. "Penge, South London."
Two minutes later, I was in the Aston.
Traffic wasn't kind, and it took me almost an hour to reach the post office, a tiny kiosk at the back of a convenience store.
"Hi." I smiled at the blond kid sitting behind the counter, and he looked at his hands. "Were you working yesterday?"
He shifted nervously on his stool, struggling to make eye contact. Was he even old enough to have a job?
"Hang on, I'll check the rota." He made a show of flipping through a wedge of papers. "Uh, yeah."
If he couldn't remember being there yesterday himself, how would he remember if the kidnapper came in? I should have brought a shovel to dig for his IQ. His answer to my question about the package was an echo of the gardener's.
"It might have been a man that posted it."
I dropped a tenner onto the counter. His eyes lit up then rolled back in his head as he tried to remember.
"His hair might have been brown."
Arrrgh!
"I don't suppose you've got CCTV?"
He shook his head. "Do you want to post a letter?"
I refrained from suggesting he return his brain to sender and left before I kicked something. A quick walk along the residential road didn't reveal a single camera. This was a game of snakes and ladders, and I'd just slid all the way down a boa constrictor.
We were back to square one again. I ground my teeth, something I hadn't done since my teenage years because it gave me a headache. The kidnapper had promised further instructions, so all we could do was wait.
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I ate dinner alone in the office, picking at the pizza I'd had delivered with the enthusiasm of a sloth. I'd told myself I needed to stay in case we got a break in the investigation, but I was lying. In a quiet corner of the canteen, there were no reminders of the husband I'd lost. At home, the reminders lay everywhere.
The rest of Sloane's saved emails held nothing of interest, and my calendar stretched ahead, empty. My mind had nothing to distract it from memories of my husband and Tia, fighting it out for prime position. And as I'd told Sloane I wouldn't return to the States until Tia was found, I'd have to live with that.
