Break Point: BookShots by James Patterson Page A

slowly being pulled out of its socket. There was a good chance it was already out, but he was beyond differentiating one pain from another. Then he heard Abbot’s voice down below.
    ‘Let her go, Chris. I’ve got her.’
    He opened his fist and felt Keller’s arm slide through his hand as she fell. He guessed the drop was a couple of yards, and he trusted Abbot to catch her. He heard her scream and then heard Abbot reassuring her, and was aware of his own harsh breathing for the first time since he’d chased after Noah Saunders. He rolled back over the barrier, falling in a heap onto the concrete floor.
    He lay on his back for a long moment and looked up at the steel rafters and let out an exhausted primal scream. It was a cacophony of agony, relief and delirious pleasure that it was over, and that they were all still alive.

CHAPTER 28
    THE POLICE INTERVIEWED them all night, Foster helping them to piece together what had happened with the murder of Maria Rosario.
    They slept through most of the morning, Keller stretched out in the king-sized bed, and Foster and Abbot taking a sofa each in the outer room. When her need to eat began to outweigh her need to sleep, Keller emerged in the doorway in her underwear and a tight white T-shirt. She strolled over to them and melted into Foster’s arms, despite his protestations and Tom Abbot’s wide grin.
    ‘I’m going to make myself scarce,’ Abbot said, pulling his jacket from the back of a chair and straightening the lapels over his chest.
    ‘You’re going nowhere,’ Keller told him, and she turned back to Foster and looked up into his calm eyes. Hers were clear and bright, the weight of the past few weeks suddenly lifted. ‘We’re alive,’ she said. ‘And that’s something to celebrate. I’m twenty-three years old and I haven’t had a drink for as long as I can remember. And I’m hungry for the first time in a month.’
    ‘Call it intuition,’ Foster said, ‘but would you like us to take you to lunch?’
    She smiled more widely than Foster had ever seen and headed off to get changed. He booked a table on the thirty-second floor and they drank cocktails before lunch. Even with Abbot in tow, Foster found it hard to resist the urge to take hold of Kirsten Keller’s hand as they stood next to each other in the lift.
    The rolling news on the TV screens above the bar showed clips of Foster charging across Centre Court and bowling into the umpire’s chair. They ignored it and dug deeper into the drinks menu.
    Abbot had a plane to catch mid-afternoon. He clasped hands with Foster, firmer friends than ever, and promised he wouldn’t leave it three years next time.
    When Foster came back to Kirsten, she was watching the London sky, which had clouded over and was suddenly grey and forbidding.
    ‘I hardly knew Jake Saunders,’ she said, ‘let alone Noah. We only went out for a few months. When I heard he’d killed himself, I couldn’t believe it.’
    Foster watched as her brow furrowed.
    ‘You must have been upset?’
    ‘Sure. But I was confused, too. I mean, we weren’t soulmates. We weren’t life partners. It was no big deal, as far as I knew. Does that make me a complete bitch?’
    Foster shook his head.
    ‘Not at all. I guess Jake Saunders was just a time-bomb waiting to go off.’
    Keller’s eyes warmed with gratitude.
    ‘Same as his brother. I keep thinking that if I hadn’t gone out with Jake, Maria would still be alive.’
    Foster shook his head.
    ‘Thinking like that will drive you mad,’ he said. ‘I know. I did it for three years. Who knows how many times you saved Maria’s life? Maybe she coached you one day, rather than catching a bus that plunged over a cliff. Or maybe if you hadn’t offered to work with her, Basilia might have accidentally tripped her down the stairs one day. You can’t trace consequence to a single action. The bottom line is that a guy decided to kill Maria, and that’s his responsibility, not yours.’
    She turned