Die Alone

the fact that I hadn’t done so had played on my mind throughout my time in prison. Now I was being offered the opportunity to make good on at least half that promise.
‘So, if Sheridan’s got such excellent security that you people can’t get to him, how the hell am I meant to?’ I said.
Lane smiled again. ‘You’ll be pleased to know we’ve got a perfect way in.’

5
Tina Boyd’s life should have been easy. She’d enjoyed a safe, comfortable, middle-class upbringing in the Home Counties, with parents who were still together and who’d shown her and each other the kind of love and compassion that was in short supply in so many families. She’d had a great time at university, left with a pretty decent degree, and had spent an adventurous and hugely satisfying gap year travelling through Asia (still the best year of her life by far, although in truth, the competition had been limited). Happy days, and they could have continued that way: a decent job, maybe marriage, a comfortable if slightly boring life like her brother and his family.
But of course it hadn’t happened like that. She’d made one bad decision from which all other bad decisions had sprung like weeds: she’d joined the police. A chequered and highly eventful career had followed in which she’d been taken hostage twice, shot, had witnessed close colleagues being killed, and had killed several suspects herself; and been fired from the job on two separate occasions. There’d been no third chance, and now she was a single forty-something private detective working mainly divorce cases.
At least she had her own house, she told herself as she poured a lime cordial and walked out into her small garden, sitting down at the table at the end. It was a beautiful evening, with birds singing in the trees, and light jazz music playing in the background. It was funny how your musical tastes changed. A few years back she would never have even countenanced jazz, now she found it soothing. She sat back in the chair and looked up at the rapidly darkening sky, lighting a cigarette and taking a sip from the drink, wishing it could have been red wine, but knowing that that ship had long ago sailed. She knew she should be happy now that her life was calmer, but it hadn’t worked out like that. Instead, it was dull and empty, and there was still a nagging feeling that she had unfinished business.
The previous year Tina had found herself working on a case alongside a Met detective, Ray Mason, whose career had been almost as controversial as hers. The case had pitted the two of them against some very powerful people who were responsible for some horrific crimes. One of those powerful people included the man who was now being talked of as the next Prime Minister, Alastair Sheridan.
And that was the problem. She and Ray had failed in their task, with Ray ending up in prison, awaiting trial for double murder. Tina had thought about continuing the investigation alone but she knew that the forces she was up against were too strong. She also had no doubt that, after his abduction from the prison van a few days earlier, Ray was dead. Sheridan and his associate Cem Kalaman would have made sure of that. The thought hurt her terribly because she’d fallen in love with him, and for the few short weeks they’d worked together she’d been genuinely happy.
The Tina Boyd of ten years ago would have been planning revenge on the men she was certain were behind this. The Tina Boyd of ten years ago would also have reached for the bottle and drunk herself into a stupor. Now she did neither of those things. Instead she tried to forget about Ray, the past, the myriad injustices of the world (which, however hard she tried, she knew she would never be able to expunge), and for once just get on with her life. She’d even started online dating for Christ’s sake, although the jury was still out on its effectiveness. But she had a date the following week with a decent-sounding (and decent-looking, if his pictures were to be believed) guy called Matt who, unlike a lot of the men out there, hadn’t been immediately fixated on her past. They’d spoken once on the phone and he’d been chatty and funny, and there was a lightness about him that Tina had missed, and felt like she needed right now.
She sat back in her seat and took a long drag on her cigarette, concluding that it might just be possible that things were looking up for her.


6
The days I spent in the care of Lane and her associates were some of the strangest of my life, and also the most relaxing. I was still effectively a prisoner. I didn’t have access to a mobile phone or the internet, but they did give me a selection of second-hand paperbacks to read, and brought in a small TV that they put on a stand at the end of the bed, so I could watch the usual junk, or see the news on the prison van snatch.
I was on the news a lot. The fact that I’d been quite a high-profile cop in my time, coupled with the embarrassment and drama of my abduction, meant the media were playing it for all it was worth, even more so as the days passed and there was still no sign of me.
I was also allowed out into the garden for fifteen minutes twice a day, under the watchful eye of one of Lane’s two male colleagues, who I was now certain had been the duo who’d freed me from the prison van. They were hard men but professional, and I guessed they were ex-army. They