CROYDON, NEXT STOP
Watching carefully, Giles edged closer towards the doorway, her ears straining for her signal.
On the platform, a man with blonde dreadlocks, a scraggily beard and a tattered, red-chequered jacket, stepped up to the doorway and peered inside at Giles and Barker. His eyes were warm and welcoming but, as they focussed on Barker, they seemed to cloud over and, in that instant...
DOWN ON YOUR LUCK
Daniel Barker sat quietly in the darkest corner of the most secluded room he could find. The dark, brown fluid swirled around the bottom of the whiskey glass as he rotated it in the air, thinking about how everything had gone so spectacularly wrong.
He had built a career off the backs of his friends; for every speech they were there to support him.
Harris could see what Parsons meant. The distance between them and Baker was still substantial enough that if he considered making a run for it, they’d be hard pressed to catch up before he disappeared into the wild and overgrown woodland and meadow that ran alongside the river. Harris turned to the rest of the team, mostly uniformed officers now, who tried to loiter causally by their patrol cars.
Evelyn Giles let the phone ring.
It was a Bank Holiday and there was no way she was going in to work. Not again.From the kitchen window, the world outside was bright and sunny. The crisp, cool air wafted through the open window, floating the suggestion that spring was nearly over and the summer would soon be here.
He didn’t ask whether Baker wanted company. He simply crossed the room and took the seat next to him, a sneer stretching beneath his disjointed nose. There were no more thoughts of solitude, no more wishes of being left alone. Baker wasn’t going to stop him.
Not this man.