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SOMETIMES WAITING COULD be fun.
I know you might be taking in my amazing detection abilities right now but in case it was too quick: Doyle killed Salisbury and probably the guy from the conference centre. Bright’s men were probably responsible for Bunion, Jackie, and the security guard, not to mention the attack on Trin.
Fiona and Bob were watching Doyle with authorisation from Derek because he had enough sense to know Wood needed help. We were waiting for Wood to come and arrest Sophie, find nothing, and then have to de-arrest her, again.
You with me? Good, because I would like to say that the office floor was hard but very, very worth it.
“Morgan?” Fiona said from the desk somewhere above me.
Sophie left me in a heap and dashed to the laptop. “We’re here.”
“It’s on camera,” I mumbled, pushing myself up with a groan. I was bringing a yoga mat next time.
Sophie stooped to pick up her shirt. “Fiona has seen my body many times.”
“I have . . . And administered calamine.” Fiona gave a short chuckle. “Don’t smile like that, Bob.”
I wanted to explain the sibling part here but thought better of it. Bob might need a lie down. He thought I was posh because I’d trained in law at King’s College in London.
“Are you checking in?” I asked as Sophie flicked her gaze up and down me with a sharp smile and turned back to the screen.
“No, I’m about to send the feed through so you can hear it,” Fiona said, half muttering to Bob. “Doyle, Salisbury, and Bright are in Doyle’s house.”
“Fantastic work,” I said as Sophie raked her gaze over me again. I pecked her on the cheek and leaned up to her ear. “You’re still hungry when you have serious stuff to deal with?”
“Yes. I feel insatiable around you,” Sophie whispered back and pulled me under her arm.
Out of view, I trailed my metal finger over her bare, very smooth and strong thigh. Maybe the whole insatiable thing was working us both?
Fiona cleared her throat. “Sending the feed through, ladies. I don’t need Bob in that mood while in an unmarked van, thank you.”
I chuckled and picked up my clothes and threw the rest of Sophie’s to her. “Sorry, Bob.”
Bob grunted. “What’s wrong with it, we’re married.”
“I’m ovulating. You want to change more nappies?” Fiona muttered but the tone sounded like Sophie when she was considering something. “Don’t smile at me like that.”
The feed cut to Doyle, Bright, and Salisbury.
Quick rundown for you: Doyle was Edwina’s height . . . say five-foot-four . . . with no hair, in his mid-to-late sixties. He had a crocodile neck and red vein marks on his face from way too much sun. Caucasian, bit on the podgy side but not too bad, and wore a hoodie and joggers. He was in his chair near a country style kitchen.
Bright was I’m-part-protein-shake puffed up with a tight white muscle top—actually quite attractive and styled with tight blue jeans on (but I couldn’t show that on my face.) He was perched on the kitchen table, legs far too wide apart, and had a pistol in his hand.
Salisbury was Mr Silver distinction, in jeans, black cowboy boot-looking shoes poking out of the bottom, a very expensive white shirt if the sheen was anything to go by. His hair was thick and tightly curled. He was Greek in descent (but then I’d read up on him.) He was slight, maybe five-ten in height and was standing in the doorway with his mobile in his hand.
“You’re an idiot to call us here,” Salisbury snapped, tapping his mobile to his thigh. “I don’t care if that bitch knows you put posters in her shop. You were the one who did it.”
Doyle gripped the armrests of his chair like it was a throne. “You will care if she finds me because I’ll tell her what she wants to know.”
Bright shook his head. “You know she’ll slice you up like she did Mead. You need us. We’re close now. Police are already sniffing around her.”
I looked at Sophie who shrugged—she wouldn’t slice him up but Eugenie definitely would.
Doyle glared at him. “Then maybe I’ll go to the police.”
Salisbury nodded to Bright.
Bam.
“Shit.” Bob dropped something. “Shit. Call it in.”
“Calm down. You’re the police constable, you have to.” She sighed. “Morgan, Bob pulled out the wire. Doyle is wounded on the right side. He’s on the floor.”
“I have to get in there,” Bob hissed out. “You stay here.”
“What?” I gripped the desk. “Bob, no. You can’t. You’re not a firearms officer.”
The van door opened.
“He’s . . .” Fiona grabbed for something. “I need to ring Derek.”
“Close the van up and move it away. Hopefully Bob will observe.” Sophie looked to me as if for reassurance but Bob was school liaison. I had no idea what he’d do but I did know it would be stupid.
“I can’t leave him,” Fiona hissed back. “No, I have to try and get him back.”
“Fiona, please.” Sophie pulled her desk drawer open, took out a new pistol, and loaded it.
Great. She’d found more murder weapons.
“I can’t. I have to go.” Fiona cut the feed.
“If I call Derek, he’ll know she’s linked to you.” I put my hands through my hair. I was going to strangle Bob.
“I know where that house is. I can reach it faster than anyone.” Sophie pulled a book from the bookcase, which slid back like the fireplace had. “I will get them to safety.” She gave me a searing kiss and slipped into the passageway.
I pulled out my mobile.
“Darl, you’re getting friendly with me, I might take a shine to you.” Eugenie had her full teasing tone on.
“Sophie has gone to Doyle’s house. He’s been shot and Fiona and Bob of all people are attempting to be shot too.” I leaned onto the desk. “Help.”
“Heading that way,” Eugenie said. “I want you to keep the police out until I get her back.”
“On it.” She cut the line, and I put the laptop in the passageway, closed it, and hurried out. “Edwina?”
Instead Kate hurried from her guard spot. “You have charcoal eyes under those contacts, don’t you?”
Kate nodded. “Why?”
“Nothing, I need you not to do anything stupid and hide if I tell you to?” I smiled, hoping she had less of a temper than Sophie. “But I need you to help me convince Malcom and Mick not to open the gates.”
“Oh, I have him worked. No worries.” Kate pulled out her phone and hurried off.
I wasn’t asking which one, I just hoped it was Malcom.
“Sophie?” Edwina headed out of her office. “The police are here, is she ready?”
“Um . . . no . . . she needs to help Fiona with something . . . urgently.” I sighed and offered a plaintive smile.
Edwina peered over her glasses. “Morgan, I do not like the sound of that. What are you up to?”
“Well, you see . . .” Being a detective was stressful, head of security might have topped that but being Sophie Haye’s girlfriend sent my levels through the roof.