Fifty Two Weeks of Murder by Owen Nichols Page A

tone was good natured as Anders goaded him.
    “You’ll try, but this little lady will kick your butt.” He followed her into the Training and Firearms room and walked to the mats set in one corner. Within moments, the entire team was cheering them on and placing bets. Lucy and Duncan supporting Barry, Jesse and Helen on Anders’ side. Ben stayed quiet, happy to watch whilst Abi and Mal whispered to each other, keeping their bets to themselves, but clearly placing them. As Barry stepped to the mats, Mal’s phone rang and he moved away to answer it.
    “We all in?” said Anders as she made a few stretches to loosen up her stiff muscles, keen to show that she didn’t want Barry to hold back. He smiled at her, the toughness that had made him part of the SAS coming through. He would be determined to win and wouldn’t accept a loss. Not easily anyway.
    “I’ll hold back a little. Don’t want to hurt you too much.” He crouched low, hands raised in a defensive posture, waiting for Anders to make her move. Barry had been taught in the Fairbairn system of close combat and it was ruthlessly efficient. Anders knew that his strength and size would eventually win out if she adopted the same system that she had taught at Quantico so switched to her favoured Wing Chun and Silat combination. She liked to mix it up with Muay Thai, so would start with the Wing Chun then switch to Muay Thai or Silat to keep him off balance. Jesse cheered at the change in stance as Anders moved in to strike.
    Before they had chance to fight, Mal spoke loudly, cutting through the jovial atmosphere.
    “Sorry folks, we’ve got another entry in Manchester and one underway right now in Greenwich. Duncan, Anders, get over there. Barry, get a van, we’re moving out now.” Barry lowered his guard and gave Anders a rueful smile.
    “Wing Chun? No chance.” He winked at her and sprinted off at a brisk pace to get a van. Anders sniffed her armpits with a grimace.
    “Dammit. Never did get that shower.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

The Interview
    Part 2
    “Tell me about this,” Cooper needled in his pithy tones. Anders stared at the picture and recalled seeing the image splashed across the news and every paper in America.
    “I was investigating a case and slipped up. I was tortured by the boy’s father before escaping and rescuing him and his sister.”
    “They live with you now?” Barrett spoke, clearly intrigued. Anders smiled at her and nodded.
    “They do.”
    “Even though you killed their father?” Cooper kept up with his aggressive questioning as Anders turned back to him, once again keeping her face and voice neutral.
    “He was their captor and abuser. It was their decision. They asked.”
    “But you tortured their father to death.” Anders’ eyes flashed briefly, but she controlled her emotions as they threatened to burst out.
    “I didn’t turn the other cheek if that’s what you mean.”
    “I mean you tortured the man who whipped the skin from your back.”
    “I was exonerated.” Cooper laughed. A genuine emotion that made Anders hate him even more. Barrett and McDowell were quiet and she could see them scrutinising her closely. She’d expected some tough questions, but not to this extent.
    “This isn’t the Wild West. We don’t tolerate that kind of behaviour in Britain. You were cleared because of the public support that picture drummed up.”
    “You said that picture proved I was a killer.”
    “Pretty, semi-naked woman covered in blood saving a poor child. People see what they want to see. You let your fiancé die that night.” It was a statement of fact.
    “I did,” said Anders frankly. She’d never hidden from that despicable truth.
    “Makes the sympathy card easier to play, I guess.” Cooper was relentless and changed tack quickly, oblivious to the flash of anger that coloured Anders’ cheeks. “Santa Muerta. That’s what they called you in Mexico wasn’t it? You were only there for nine