Adrian Magson - No Tears for the Lost

‘You will be, in due course. We’ve been collating background facts, making sure we don’t trip over our feet. There’s a lot of muck to sort out.’ He noticed Riley’s laptop on the table. ‘I’d like to read your notes when you’re done. I can’t demand them of course, but it would help me fill in a few gaps. Confidentially. You happy with that?’

Riley wondered if this was Weller’s way of giving official clearance on the story. For some reason she trusted him. For a policeman, he seemed straight and uncomplicated. ‘As long as I get approval to publish.’

He shrugged. ‘Don’t see why not. Somebody has to. As long as I get my photo in there for the grandkids, of course.’ He grinned wickedly and waited for her answer.

‘I’ll email it to you.’

He nodded and walked to the door. ‘We found the guns you mentioned, by the way. The automatic is a MAC10 — a nasty little weapon. It doesn’t shoot, it sprays. We’ll need your fingerprints, just to eliminate you. Good job you mentioned them when you did, otherwise my superiors might have their suspicions about your involvement. Take care, now.’

One day, Palmer called and left a parcel for her, then drove away again. She took it off the doorstep and opened it. And smiled.

It contained an identical new jacket and a blue cotton shirt, to replace the ones spoiled at Colebrooke. There was also a note.

I know all about favourite jackets. FP.

John Mitcheson came and went at intervals. He had invested in a new car to replace the Land Cruiser, which he claimed had been mysteriously stolen the day after the firefight at Colebrooke, and was unlikely ever to be recovered. She didn’t believe a word of it, but decided it was probably a good thing.

They ate out occasionally and stayed in sometimes, which didn’t please the cat. It would sit and stare at Mitcheson, and he tried to out-stare it back. The two of them stayed like that for a long time.

The cat usually won.

Gradually, Mitcheson’s visits became fewer as work intruded. She missed him at first, wanting the nearness and strength of his presence. Then she realised that his absences were growing longer… and the missing became less. She began to recognise that something intangible had changed between them. She wasn’t sure if it was Mitcheson or herself.

Neither was she sure what to do about it.

But it gave her a chance to think about the events of the past weeks, and what lay ahead. It helped being able to write it down. In doing so, the shadows and stark images began to recede, like fog slowly dispersing.

When she sent the file to Weller and received a brief ‘OK’, it was with a feeling of relief.

The last thing she did was to send an email to Tristram/Jacob, telling him it was all over.

She received a one-word reply:

Justice .