returned to the desk, a movement on the CCTV screen caught his eye. He peered at the top quarter of the TV: through the softly falling snow a figure was walking towards the front door of Broadmead Grange. As they approached the camera, Jack recognised the face.
“Sarah,” he said, nodding to the screen. “We’ve got houseguests.”
Sarah turned — and Jack could see the alarm in her face.
“Shirley Woods,” she said.
“Did I say five minutes?” he said. “Make that three.”
His hands flew through the files, and then—
“Got it.”
“Dispensing sheets?”
“Yep, all signed by Ania,” he said. “Patient by patient, going back to … last year.”
“So we can see if dosages have changed?”
“Exactly,” said Jack, rolling the papers and slotting them deep in his winter jacket. “The proof we’re looking for — I hope.”
He heard a door slam deep within the building.
“Time we got out of here,” he said. “You got the download?”
He watched Sarah ease the digital stick out, then run through the shutdown.
“I have now.”
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Back to the car?” said Sarah.
“Not quite yet,” said Jack. “I think we ought to put the squeeze on our friend Craig before we go …”
“Looking forward to that already,” said Sarah.
What a partner, thought Jack. Like I never retired …
He flicked the desk light off, tidied the drawers of the filing cabinet and gently opened the door, aware of Sarah close behind him.
He looked each way down the dimly lit corridor — empty. He checked Sarah was ready — and slipped out of the office. As soon as Sarah was out too, he shut the door gently behind him. It locked automatically with a click as he closed it.
And then he heard another door opening, just yards away. He could see Shirley Woods emerging, her back luckily towards them.
He grabbed Sarah and pulled her quickly across the corridor into the dark shadows of a stairwell. He held his breath — if Woods turned to go up these stairs then the game was up.
As he watched, the sister strode by, head up, busy, busy. She paused at her office, took out a key, unlocked the door and went in — all without seeing them.
“Guess it’s our lucky day,” said Jack. He could hear Sarah’s steady breathing in and out.
Tense moment … Then:
“What are we waiting for?” she whispered with a smile.
So, with Sarah at his side, he headed down the corridor deeper into the home to find Craig.
16. A Lovely Cuppa
Sarah followed Jack down the corridor. Although she felt lost, it seemed that Jack knew where he was going.
The place was eerily quiet. But as they turned a corner, she could hear the sound of hushed male voices and the clink of glass on bottle. She smelled cigarette smoke too …
At the end of this corridor she could see a half-open door, and light spilled out.
Just ahead of her, Jack paused and turned: “Kitchens,” he said. “And if I’m not mistaken, that sounds like our old friend Craig.”
She followed him to the door, and pressed against the wall right next to him so she could listen to the low, muttered conversation in the kitchen.
“Top-up?”
“Large one, this time Craig — none of your bleedin’ country measures.”
The other voice was older, gravelly. Sarah thought she recognised it, but couldn’t quite place it. She heard the glasses clinking again. Then the older voice continued. Craig was clearly getting some careers advice …
“Like I was saying — you got a choice, son. Big frog, little pond — or little frog, big pond. What you got to remember is — cheers — little frogs get bigger don’t they?”
“Easy for you to say. You got connections,” said Craig.
“I’ll make ’em your connections, too.”
“I dunno. I’ve got a nice deal here. Why muck it up?”
“Can’t go on forever. Gotta move on. Move up . Big city — big margins.”
“Big risks though.”
“Risks is life, son. Don’t get nowhere without it.”
“You
“Sarah,” he said, nodding to the screen. “We’ve got houseguests.”
Sarah turned — and Jack could see the alarm in her face.
“Shirley Woods,” she said.
“Did I say five minutes?” he said. “Make that three.”
His hands flew through the files, and then—
“Got it.”
“Dispensing sheets?”
“Yep, all signed by Ania,” he said. “Patient by patient, going back to … last year.”
“So we can see if dosages have changed?”
“Exactly,” said Jack, rolling the papers and slotting them deep in his winter jacket. “The proof we’re looking for — I hope.”
He heard a door slam deep within the building.
“Time we got out of here,” he said. “You got the download?”
He watched Sarah ease the digital stick out, then run through the shutdown.
“I have now.”
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Back to the car?” said Sarah.
“Not quite yet,” said Jack. “I think we ought to put the squeeze on our friend Craig before we go …”
“Looking forward to that already,” said Sarah.
What a partner, thought Jack. Like I never retired …
He flicked the desk light off, tidied the drawers of the filing cabinet and gently opened the door, aware of Sarah close behind him.
He looked each way down the dimly lit corridor — empty. He checked Sarah was ready — and slipped out of the office. As soon as Sarah was out too, he shut the door gently behind him. It locked automatically with a click as he closed it.
And then he heard another door opening, just yards away. He could see Shirley Woods emerging, her back luckily towards them.
He grabbed Sarah and pulled her quickly across the corridor into the dark shadows of a stairwell. He held his breath — if Woods turned to go up these stairs then the game was up.
As he watched, the sister strode by, head up, busy, busy. She paused at her office, took out a key, unlocked the door and went in — all without seeing them.
“Guess it’s our lucky day,” said Jack. He could hear Sarah’s steady breathing in and out.
Tense moment … Then:
“What are we waiting for?” she whispered with a smile.
So, with Sarah at his side, he headed down the corridor deeper into the home to find Craig.
16. A Lovely Cuppa
Sarah followed Jack down the corridor. Although she felt lost, it seemed that Jack knew where he was going.
The place was eerily quiet. But as they turned a corner, she could hear the sound of hushed male voices and the clink of glass on bottle. She smelled cigarette smoke too …
At the end of this corridor she could see a half-open door, and light spilled out.
Just ahead of her, Jack paused and turned: “Kitchens,” he said. “And if I’m not mistaken, that sounds like our old friend Craig.”
She followed him to the door, and pressed against the wall right next to him so she could listen to the low, muttered conversation in the kitchen.
“Top-up?”
“Large one, this time Craig — none of your bleedin’ country measures.”
The other voice was older, gravelly. Sarah thought she recognised it, but couldn’t quite place it. She heard the glasses clinking again. Then the older voice continued. Craig was clearly getting some careers advice …
“Like I was saying — you got a choice, son. Big frog, little pond — or little frog, big pond. What you got to remember is — cheers — little frogs get bigger don’t they?”
“Easy for you to say. You got connections,” said Craig.
“I’ll make ’em your connections, too.”
“I dunno. I’ve got a nice deal here. Why muck it up?”
“Can’t go on forever. Gotta move on. Move up . Big city — big margins.”
“Big risks though.”
“Risks is life, son. Don’t get nowhere without it.”
“You
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