“But within minutes, they felt totally trivial. The police tapes marked out an area by one of the giant pillars that held up the raised section of the Westway. It was a classic scrap of urban desert. Scrubby grass, rubbish all around, the stink of engine fumes and decay in the air. Stella grabbed her kitbag from the boot and we walked over to the cluster of white suits that marked the target of our interest. We were still a few yards away when one man peeled off from the main group and b...locked our way. I had a vague memory of meeting him on some training course, but I couldn’t recall his name or rank. Luckily, I didn’t have to. ‘DCI Martin,’ he said, voice raised to be heard above the traffic noise. He extended a hand. I was a bit taken aback. Cops don’t usually do the handshake thing. As we shook, he carried on. ‘John Burton, DI Burton. I’m really sorry about this.’ I shrugged. ‘I get called out to stuff all the time. Sometimes it’s linked to my beat, sometimes not.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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