Page 6 of Taming Her

“Hey, mate.” Griff climbed out of the car. “You okay?”

The man coughed, a deep chesty rattle. “Evening, Officer.”

“Where you off to?” Griff recognized the man. He’d been on the streets of Bristol for years.

“The hostel. See if they’ve got space.”

“They’re charging a fiver, you got that?”

“Nah.” He dug into a grubby carrier bag and plucked out a sandwich wrapper. “I chose food. My stomach thought me throat had been cut.” He coughed again.

Griff dug into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He plucked out a five-pound note. “Here, take this.”

The man’s eyes widened, his brow creasing. “That’s mighty kind of ya.”

“Don’t want that cough turning to pneumonia, do we? See if they can get a doctor to listen to your chest in the morning.”

The man gave the money a kiss, making a loud lip-smacking noise. “I’d kiss you, Officer, but I’m guessing you wouldn’t like that.”

“You’re not my type.” Griff laughed. “So you guessed right.”

He grinned. “God bless you, Officer, I really appreciate it.”

“Well, it’s just this once, but be careful, okay, get yourself straight there.”

He did a mock salute, then gripped the handle of his trolley and rattled up the curb.

Griff climbed back into his car and started the engine.

He left the city center and slow-wheeled in the direction of St George’s Park. After circumnavigating it, he found himself pulling up on Sloane Street.

He killed the lights and was glad his parking space wasn’t under the spotlight of a lamppost.

It was then his attention settled on a terraced house. Number eighteen.

Four concrete steps led up to the entrance and the three windows facing the street were all lit but with curtains closed.

Who has every light on in their house?

Ava Sontag, that’s who.

He probably shouldn’t have used the database to look up her address. Had resisted for years finding out her whereabouts. But seeing her the night before had given him an excuse to dig into his ex. Find out where she was living now and what she’d been up to since he’d last seen her.

Which didn’t appear to be much. She didn’t have a record, which was good, but her employment status was sketchy. No doubt Bank of Daddy was still dishing out cash on a monthly basis.

He folded his arms and settled back in the driver’s seat. At college she’d been studying art and design. It had seemed to him she’d picked it because it was easy with no real right and wrong. But what did he know? He’d been into math because he was good at it, but it hadn’t led to a career in numbers. His career had come about after chatting to a police officer at a college recruitment day. Griff had been curious to see if he’d be up for the challenge of protecting the streets and fighting crime. It had been one of the most important conversations of his life, and undoubtedly his best decision to date.

A light went out in an upstairs bedroom. He waited to see if another would. It didn’t.

A disturbance was reported from the control room but it was on the opposite side of the town center and quickly picked up by another patrol.

Good.

Movement in his wing mirror caught his attention. A man walking toward him through the shadows, head stooped, hood up, hands shoved into jeans pockets.

Griff wished he was in a plain car. He was standing out like a sore bloody thumb in this one with its neon orange stripe down the side.

He shifted lower, trying to be as inconspicuous inside the vehicle as possible.

---