approached, not running, but slow and deliberate. He stopped breathing. They were closer, treading warily. He raised his head slightly to see, using just one eye, afraid to expose too
much of his face. The footsteps stopped and he heard a shoe scuffle against metal. Silence for several moments and Trewick was forced to release air from his lungs. He did so as quietly as
possible, then drew in a short, jerky breath. Footsteps again. A dark shape moved before him, not more than two yards away. He couldn’t make out if it was two pairs of legs or just one. He
tried to control his shaking, sure that even that could be heard. The legs moved on, out of vision.
His eyes closed and his sigh of relief was barely audible. Silent tears had made his face and beard damp and he brushed them away against his knees.
Then something prodded his back and a quiet voice said: ‘Boo.’
The girl was lying on one of the caravan’s narrow bunk beds, leaning on an elbow with her back against the wall as though he had roused her from sleep. There was no
surprise in her expression.
‘Kelly?’ she said.
‘Goldilocks?’ he asked.
‘With dark hair?’ She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, but remained seated. ‘It is Kelly, isn’t it? Or I should say Kelso. You match the description they gave me
quite well.’
‘Who gave you?’ Kelso’s hand was still on the light switch by the door. The door, itself, was open, ready for him to take instant flight should the occupant or occupants of his
make-shift home have proved a threat. The girl didn’t look threatening.
‘Your people in the Central Drugs Intelligence Unit.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ His hand had dropped from the light switch and was pulling the door closed. His eyes stayed on her all the time.
‘I’ve also spoken to your immediate superior, Detective Superintendent Barrie of the Drugs Squad, who passed me on to your governor, Detective Inspector Wainwright. As usual with the
Yard, they were cagey at first.’
Kelso walked further into the caravan and leaned against the open doorway leading to the sleeping quarters. He flicked on the light switch in that section to get a better look at the girl.
She wore jeans and a dark blue crew-neck jumper, the sleeves pulled up to her elbows. Long, brown hair hung loosely over a shoulder; hair on the other side of the parting was tucked behind her
ear as though she had quickly pushed it back out of the way when he had entered the caravan. Clear blue eyes appraised him in the same way he was appraising her.
‘I still don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. And how did you get in here?’
The girl smiled and, strangely, it hardened her features rather than softened them. ‘That door wasn’t locked.’ She reached out for a bag lying on the dressing-table unit
opposite the bed. His hand closed around her wrist.
‘I’ve got my ID inside the bag,’ she said.
‘Just tell me.’
‘Ellie Shepherd.’ She tried to pull her wrist away, but his grip tightened. ‘I’m an investigation officer with Customs and Excise.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yes.’ She pulled her arm away.
Kelso reached for her bag, opened it and riffled through the contents until he found what he was looking for. He held the wallet up and looked enquiringly at her.
She nodded.
He opened the wallet, studied the inside for a few moments, flicked it shut and tossed it back into the bag. ‘Coffee?’ he asked, placing the shoulder-bag on the unit and turning away
from her to walk through to the kitchen area. She followed him out and watched him fill the electric kettle in the compact sink. He took a mug from the cupboard above the sink and placed it next to
the one standing on the draining board.
‘How d’you like it?’ he asked, reaching for the coffee jar.
‘Strong. Black.’
He grinned to himself and scooped the instant into the mugs.
‘Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?’ The
much of his face. The footsteps stopped and he heard a shoe scuffle against metal. Silence for several moments and Trewick was forced to release air from his lungs. He did so as quietly as
possible, then drew in a short, jerky breath. Footsteps again. A dark shape moved before him, not more than two yards away. He couldn’t make out if it was two pairs of legs or just one. He
tried to control his shaking, sure that even that could be heard. The legs moved on, out of vision.
His eyes closed and his sigh of relief was barely audible. Silent tears had made his face and beard damp and he brushed them away against his knees.
Then something prodded his back and a quiet voice said: ‘Boo.’
The girl was lying on one of the caravan’s narrow bunk beds, leaning on an elbow with her back against the wall as though he had roused her from sleep. There was no
surprise in her expression.
‘Kelly?’ she said.
‘Goldilocks?’ he asked.
‘With dark hair?’ She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, but remained seated. ‘It is Kelly, isn’t it? Or I should say Kelso. You match the description they gave me
quite well.’
‘Who gave you?’ Kelso’s hand was still on the light switch by the door. The door, itself, was open, ready for him to take instant flight should the occupant or occupants of his
make-shift home have proved a threat. The girl didn’t look threatening.
‘Your people in the Central Drugs Intelligence Unit.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ His hand had dropped from the light switch and was pulling the door closed. His eyes stayed on her all the time.
‘I’ve also spoken to your immediate superior, Detective Superintendent Barrie of the Drugs Squad, who passed me on to your governor, Detective Inspector Wainwright. As usual with the
Yard, they were cagey at first.’
Kelso walked further into the caravan and leaned against the open doorway leading to the sleeping quarters. He flicked on the light switch in that section to get a better look at the girl.
She wore jeans and a dark blue crew-neck jumper, the sleeves pulled up to her elbows. Long, brown hair hung loosely over a shoulder; hair on the other side of the parting was tucked behind her
ear as though she had quickly pushed it back out of the way when he had entered the caravan. Clear blue eyes appraised him in the same way he was appraising her.
‘I still don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. And how did you get in here?’
The girl smiled and, strangely, it hardened her features rather than softened them. ‘That door wasn’t locked.’ She reached out for a bag lying on the dressing-table unit
opposite the bed. His hand closed around her wrist.
‘I’ve got my ID inside the bag,’ she said.
‘Just tell me.’
‘Ellie Shepherd.’ She tried to pull her wrist away, but his grip tightened. ‘I’m an investigation officer with Customs and Excise.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Yeah?’
‘Yes.’ She pulled her arm away.
Kelso reached for her bag, opened it and riffled through the contents until he found what he was looking for. He held the wallet up and looked enquiringly at her.
She nodded.
He opened the wallet, studied the inside for a few moments, flicked it shut and tossed it back into the bag. ‘Coffee?’ he asked, placing the shoulder-bag on the unit and turning away
from her to walk through to the kitchen area. She followed him out and watched him fill the electric kettle in the compact sink. He took a mug from the cupboard above the sink and placed it next to
the one standing on the draining board.
‘How d’you like it?’ he asked, reaching for the coffee jar.
‘Strong. Black.’
He grinned to himself and scooped the instant into the mugs.
‘Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here?’ The
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