Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

time of night. The run didn’t tire him out. On the contrary, by the time he arrived home he felt more wired than before. It was nearly one o’clock and he had to be up early in the morning. His head ached with a tightness in his temples above his ears. He lay down in bed, still worrying about what to do about Amy’s husband, wishing she was there with him.

CHAPTER 5
     
    T here was a fair amount of traffic when Geraldine returned home on Sunday evening. At least it was moving. The major routes into London were always busy, whatever the time. Even though it was past midnight, the queue of cars crawled past a section of the motorway that was closed for resurfacing. In no hurry to get home, she didn’t mind sitting in the car with no decisions to make, no evidence to consider, no need even to think as she travelled along in limbo, helpless to do anything about her situation. By the time she arrived home it was past midnight. Turning off Upper Street she drove past elegant white and brick terraced houses and turned left into Waterloo Gardens, where high wrought iron gates closed soundlessly behind her. In the quiet of her street, it was hard to believe she was living in the centre of London. Much as she had enjoyed her excursion to Kent, she was pleased to be home.

     
    Tired from her journey, she kicked off her shoes and padded into the bedroom. The flat had been painted in pastel colours, easy to live with, although bland and impersonal. She had been considering redecorating, starting with the pale green bedroom which reminded her of a hotel room. In pyjamas and dressing gown, she went to the kitchen where a half-drunk bottle of Chianti stood on the table, waiting to be finished. It was a nice wine, but she hesitated only for a second before putting the kettle on and making a mug of tea.
    It had been good to catch up with Ian. He had helped her out of several dangerous situations in the past, saving her life more than once. Seeing him again made her realise how much she missed working with him, but London was not just a positive career move, it was an exciting place to live.

     
    After she finished her tea, she didn’t feel tired. Perched on the side of her bed, she took a small photograph from her bedside drawer. It was framed under protective glass to prevent it from fading with exposure to daylight. She gazed wistfully at what could have been a photograph of herself as a teenager – if the picture hadn’t been taken before she was born. Her own black eyes and dark hair stared up at her. Only a crooked nose ruined the otherwise perfect features of the mother who had given Geraldine up for adoption at birth. She had been adopted by a prosperous family, fulfilling Milly Blake’s wish to help her daughter by giving her up. Not only had Geraldine enjoyed a comfortable upbringing, she had grown up in happy ignorance of the circumstances of her birth, until her adoptive mother died. The agency that had arranged her adoption was unable to put her in touch with Milly Blake, who had flatly refused any contact with the daughter she had given away. Geraldine couldn’t suppress her desire to meet her birth mother in the hope that she would change her mind about refusing contact if they met, face to face. With a sigh, she replaced the photograph in the drawer. Although she was determined to find her mother, she wasn’t ready to deal with the pain of further rejection.

     
    She overslept and arrived at work late on Monday morning. Mentally prepared to deal with a stack of paperwork to clear up from her previous case, she was surprised to find all the lights were on in her office. The bin had been moved from beside her chair. A man sitting at the other desk in the room looked up as she came in and rose to his feet, smiling. He was broad shouldered, with muscular arms. Light brown hair cut short along his temples grew longer on top of his head where it was brushed straight back from his wide round forehead so that it stuck up in a slightly comical way. Above a large blob of a nose his left eye was more widely open than the right one, as though he was caught in the act of winking, which gave him a good natured appearance.

     
    ‘You must be Geraldine. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Nick Williams.’
    Shrugging off a slight irritation that she was now sharing the office which had been her personal territory for her first London case, Geraldine returned her colleague’s smile.
    ‘Hello, Nick. Nice to