Page 37 of Ticket Out

“He tried to do this with a witness right there?” Hartridge asked, astonished.

“The other man was lighting his cigarette behind the bus stop when the van drove past the first time. I don’t think he saw him.”

Archer gave a slow nod. “But you said you think he followed you?”

“The bus arrived just as he drove off. I got on, but then I noticed a white van behind the bus.” She held her cup of coffee in both hands. “I honestly don’t know if it was the same one. I got off the bus early and took some back ways to get home, and I didn’t see the van again.”

“You did the right thing, telling me.” Archer began eating again, in a concentrated, methodical way that told her he ate when he could, because he didn’t know when he was going to have a chance again.

Come to think of it, he had a lean, hungry look, even given his size. His cheekbones were sharp in his face, and he looked like he was made purely of bone, muscle and sinew.

Hartridge had already finished his meal, and he pushed his plate away with a sigh of happiness. “What do you think, Sarg?”

“How do you think he found you, to offer you the lift?” Archer asked her. The effect of his full attention was quite shocking. It was suddenly difficult to hold his gaze.

“That I can’t say. That’s why I’m not sure it’s the same van. Unless he somehow knows I’m Australian. Iwasin Earl’s Court at the time. It’s called Kangaroo Valley for a reason. He could have been cruising, just in case he saw me.”

Hartridge gave a snort of laughter at the Kangaroo Valley reference, but Archer gave a slow nod.

“Why not? You’ve interacted with Devenish, and you say he was parked opposite the gallery when you had your conversation. He could have heard your accent himself.”

That’s what she had also figured out, as she lay in bed the night before. It was the most likely answer, if the van really was the same one.

“So, he got lucky?” Hartridge asked.

Archer’s lips twisted in a wry smile. “Why not? He seems to be on a lucky streak. We’re not even close to working out who he is.”

Gabriella set her half-drunk cup of coffee down. “I have to keep going on my round.”

“Remember what I told you? You think something’s up, you run into a shop or a house and call me.” Archer looked like he wanted to reach across the table and grab her hand, but just stopped himself.

She gave a nod and slid out of the booth, and both men did the same. She left them paying at the counter, with a wave and a thanks for the coffee, and she thought Archer looked worried when he waved back.

She wasn’t sleeping well, and she was very sure DS Archer had taken note of the dark circles under her eyes. She kept hearing rats scrabbling in her dreams. It made for long, miserable nights.

She stopped and waited on the other side of the street when she noticed the lorry driver had gotten back to his truck and was swearing as he pulled the FPN off his windscreen. He saw her as he started up the engine and shook his fist at her as he drove away.

Ah, well.

She should probably be grateful that her black cap with its yellow band and the black uniform made her very difficult to distinguish as an individual. No one would recognize her out of uniform.

Which was a point.

How had the white van driver done it?

And then she thought back to the night club.

Had he noticed her then?

Maybe he’d even been in the club before Patty had left, watching her?

She tried to think if anyone had stood out, but she’d been with Liz, and a lot of men had been looking at them. She would have to ask Liz if anyone had spoken to her after she left, had asked any strange questions.

She hoped the answer to that was no. The thought of someone stalking her through the streets, for just the possibility of what she’d seen, was more terrifying than the thought of finding her deserting father. Or even the sound of rats.

chapterseventeen

James walkedup the path to the door of the large Grosvenor Square house with interest. It was a substantial, imposing home.

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