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The flashing blues on the radiator grill reflected in his rear view mirror. Garrett cursed under his breath, ‘fuck it’. He’d taken that last corner just a little too fast, piquing the interest of the unmarked Volkswagen Golf hiding up on the elevated slip road. The fading light his camouflage, a predator just waiting to pounce.

Garrett decelerated, keeping his eyes fixed on the Golf. Panic surged as he flitted to the dashboard clock. Calculating that at least six hours had elapsed since his last drink, he told himself to relax, confident the alcohol count per milligrams of breath to his blood count would render a negative reading. He exhaled just as the stabbing pain in his chest struck, what if this was about the fight in the pub, or the incident with the parking attendant?

Locating a suitable pulling in spot, he flicked the indicator, slowing to a moderate twenty-five mph in the forty zone. Coming to a halt, he switched off the engine and stuck two gum sticks into his mouth, watching as the hypnotic blue lights danced left to right across the Golf’s grill.

The occupant from the unmarked police car waited a few seconds—checking the Audi R8’s details with Control before alighting the vehicle. The yellow fluorescent hi-vis jacket approached, seeming to float in the darkness. Garrett knew the drill well enough, this his third stop inside a year. He opened the window and waited. Conscious of the swelling to his left hand, he hid it from view.

No response—silence, the police officer playing the mind game before speaking. ‘This your vehicle, sir?’

‘Would you mind stepping out and accompanying me to the patrol car.’ It was a flat routine statement rather than an invitation.

Garrett knew if he declined he’d get dragged from the car and cuffed at the roadside. He told himself to remain calm, he needed to control the situation, he couldn’t afford to let paranoia get the better of him.

The officer opened the door to the R8. ‘Just take a seat in the back of the patrol vehicle, sir.’

Garrett complied. Releasing his seatbelt, and removing the keys from the ignition, he extricated himself from the Audi. The officer took a step back, allowing Garrett free access, but remaining close enough in case his prey decided to bolt. He followed Garrett to the car then opened the rear door for him. The patrol officer was standing close, almost intimate, as he climbed in to the rear seat. ‘Mind your head there, sir.’

The officer made his way to the front of the car and positioned himself in the driver’s seat, engaging the automatic locking system as he sat down.

Garrett scanned the interior. It was finished in a masculine, black leather trim. The thought came to mind that it was no more than a grown-up boy racers car. All that was missing was a rear-mounted boom box. The comms unit a Mecca of flashing lights. He guessed he was crammed in to the back of a Golf GTI. A fast response vehicle, more akin to lurking by motorway slip roads waiting for unsuspecting speedsters, not the standard patrol car for country back roads. Even so, it was still no match for his Audi, if he had the mind for it.

The officer reached over to the front passenger seat, retrieving a black lever arch file containing the standard issue paper work.

The officer looked up from the file, his smile thin lipped. ‘Are you the registered owner of the vehicle, sir?’

‘And do you have your driver’s license with you, or any other form of identification?’

Garrett fumbled through his pockets—still no wallet. He must have left it back at the pub, he prayed to God it hadn’t fallen out anywhere close to the parking attendant’s cabin. The last thing he needed right now was evidence to place him at the scene. ‘Sorry, don’t seem to have it on me.’

The officer nodded, before scribbling down some notes and running through the obligatory standard questions regarding full name, place of abode, and date of birth, trying to establish whether or not Garrett was in fact the bona fide owner of the roadster.

‘This is a forty mph zone, sir. How fast would you say your vehicle was travelling?’

‘I really couldn’t say—I was just trying to get home. All in all, it’s been a shitty day.’

‘I understand that. I suppose I was doing forty-four maybe forty-five, or you wouldn’t have bothered to pull me over.’

The officer hit the replay button; Garrett watched a tiny, seven-inch screen, the Audi’s number plate visible, his speed recorded at the bottom of the monitor. The Golf had tailed him for more than a quarter of a mile, his average speed clocking forty-eight mph, accelerating in to the hairpin corner, the Golf’s camera recording his speed at fifty-two mph.

He’d been careless, caught on camera. Protesting his innocence or citing extenuating circumstances was pointless, he just needed to take his medicine and accept the fixed penalty.

The aching in his left fist began to throb; he placed his right hand over it, massaging the pain. It was all bullshit, he just had to go through the motions.

‘No, it’s nothing, I trapped it under the bonnet when I was checking the oil.’

‘That’s a nasty looking gash to the eye you’ve got there, been in the wars have we?’

‘I took a tumble, that’s all. Clumsy of me I know, tripped over my own feet. I’ve never had very good coordination or balance.’

The patrol officer nodded, a sceptical look upon his face, before continuing with his notes. ‘Have you been drinking tonight, sir?’

Garrett answered a little too fast. ‘No, well yes, this afternoon, earlier than that really. More late morning—I had a couple but I felt unwell, so I slept it off. Look, Officer...’

Garrett read the officer’s name badge, trying to engage the human empathy approach, ‘Look, PC Reid, It’s been one hell of a day, I received some bad news earlier today, life changing really, got told that I have...’

Reid was already preparing the roadside breathalyser. ‘If you wouldn’t mind blowing into this, sir, right up until when I tell you to stop.’ He passed the mouthpiece to Garrett, ‘take a deep breath.’

It was useless, there was no point in resisting the inevitable. Garrett took hold of the breathalyser tube and pumped his lungs, expelling as much air as he could in one blast. Que sera sera.

He watched the lights blinking as the digital display calculated the maths, the light stayed green. Garrett was below the safe, legal driving limit, much to the annoyance of the officer.

The comms unit burst into life, the voice confirming Garrett as the registered owner of the Audi R8. His story checked out, but the officer remained unconvinced. Without reasonable cause to detain him any longer, Reid issued the speeding ticket, instructing Garrett that he could either pay the fine or enrol upon the next drivers’ awareness course, to avoid additional points to his license.

PC Reid disengaged the locking mechanism and held the door open as Garrett alighted the Volkswagen before making his way back to the roadster.

It was a close call. All he wanted to do now was to get home, sleep, and forget all about it.

Reid sat back in the Golf drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He watched as the R8 indicated before pulling off. Something wasn’t right. Garrett’s story had checked out, but Reid’s gut instinct told him different. Whatever it was he couldn’t put his finger on it, he just knew Garrett was hiding something.

The officer waited, counting to three before gunning the ignition. Garrett had a thirty-second lead, enough time to let him think he was safe. Reid shifted through the gears, accelerating in to the darkness. His destination, 9 Chantry Close.