Page 135 of Joker in the Pack

The insurance man turned up five minutes late, then spent twenty minutes poking around, pulling faces and tapping his clipboard.

“Total loss, this,” he said as he snapped away with his camera.

One didn’t need to be a genius to work that out.

“So, what happens now?”

“We’ll get the place rebuilt. Have you got somewhere to stay in the meantime, or do you need us to find you alternative accommodation?”

“I’ve got somewhere.”

He scribbled more notes. “That makes things easier. I’ll get a partial payment issued in the interim so you can start replacing your clothes and whatnot.”

“Thank you.”

At least I could offer to pay Nye back for the clothes he’d bought me, although I had a feeling he wouldn’t accept my money. He’d already given me his credit card and told me to buy anything I wanted. His only request was that I bought plenty of fancy knickers so he could tear them off me. I’d been only too happy to oblige.

Tonight’s were pale pink with black lace, complete with a matching bra and stockings. I planned to cook us a nice dinner, but I wasn’t sure we’d make it through to dessert.

After the loss adjuster left, we took a last look around ourselves, but there was nothing to salvage. Anything that didn’t succumb to the fire had been covered in water or trodden on. Nye’s dented, windowless BMW was still sitting beside the twisted remains of the two trucks. It had suffered even more damage after we’d left when Graham accidentally reversed his squad car into it.

“Do you want to head back to London?” Maddie asked. “I’ll buy you a drink before you go to Nye’s. You look like you need it.”

Coming from anyone else, the comment might have insulted me, but Maddie had a heart of gold. “Make it a double.”

We’d almost reached her Fiesta when a shiny Mercedes pulled up in front of us.

“Is that…” she started.

Warren finished for me. “Tate Palmer? Yes.”

He looked every bit as awful as I’d feared when he climbed out of the driver’s side. His rumpled clothes and stubble were a far cry from his usual dapper appearance. On Nye, that look worked, but Tate just came across as untidy.

Even worse were his eyes, swimming with torment as they met mine.

“Olivia.”

“Hi, Tate.”

“I was driving past, and I saw you here… I… I…” He gave his head a little shake, as if he was trying to get rid of unwanted thoughts, and glanced at my support team. “I don’t know where to start.”

“I’m so sorry about your mother.”

“I just can’t… My father… How could he…”

I took both of his hands in mine. “It must have been such a shock.”

A tear rolled down his cheek, and he looked behind me again. “Have you got a few minutes to talk? I need to apologise.”

I glanced behind and sighed. Maddie had fixed him with a hawk-like stare, and he was withering under it. “Do you want to go somewhere more private?”

“Would you mind? This is…well, it’s not easy with an audience.”

Tate was as much a victim in all this as I was. The least I could do was listen to what he had to say, especially as I’d had a hand in his life falling apart, however unwittingly.

“I won’t be long,” I told Maddie. “Maybe half an hour?”

I raised an eyebrow at Tate, and he nodded his confirmation.

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