Alan drew up short before the entrance door. He watched the
two men scan left and right and knew right off that somehow Karen had managed
to disappear along with John and the other man. He determined to slow down the
searchers as much as he could afford, given that the inquest was about to
commence. He walked forward steadily.
‘Everything alright guys?’ he asked. The two men spun
around, both trying to work out if they should know this person. Sam recognised
the voice as the man who had been challenging him inside, and he felt sure he
knew the voice from elsewhere. He hoped to hell it wasn’t one of his old
patients.
‘You didn’t see which way the three people went, by any
chance,’ asked Sam, scrutinising the face as it came out of shadow, suppressing
his instincts which told him this man was not a complete stranger. Alan stepped
out calmly, slowly surveying the street.
‘Nope, I think they left through this door, in fact I know
they did. I assumed they would be outside here. Maybe they’re still in the
hall, there were a lot of people milling around,’ he suggested, knowing full
well that they had left the hall and not returned.
Jim looked around one last time before coming to the
conclusion that the three couldn’t have reached the entrance and that the
stranger might just be right.
‘We’ll need to check back inside,’ he said, pulling Sam’s
arm. Sam shrugged the grip off, recently healed bruises smarting. Then it hit
him. That was where he knew the voice from, the car parked outside Fylingdales,
the one that had been moved on. He hadn’t heard any clear words that night, but
the inflection was unmistakable. This man was stalling him, diverting him. He
knew Martin would go mad, would fly off the handle as soon as he knew, would
blame him and conspire to exclude him from the project once and for all. Sam
pushed Alan off his feet as he ran back into the hall.
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Copyright Ray Sullivan 2011
The characters, places and events described in this novel are fictitious and any resemblance to persons, places or events, past or present, is coincidence. All rights reserved
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