By Lynne Graham
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Extra info for An Insatiable Passion
The operation was textbook so far, couldn’t be faulted. It was her attitude that was out of line. “It doesn’t add up, guv. ” He supplied the word. ” His sigh went unsuppressed this time. ” The DI. He’d been on the phone to Bev, said he’d handle the press. No surprise there: it could be a biggie and Powell was a media tart. ” Why? ” Byford stroked an eyebrow. In guv-speak that was not good. She’d picked up the signals in his voice anyway. ” Their unmarked police Vauxhall was just behind Jenny’s Audi.
The guv’s order had come as a bit of a shock. Bev Morriss should’ve been a natural to interview the boy’s father but she’d got another bloody beehive in her bonnet. And Powell had to pick up the pieces. Talk about making allowances. It was the police service, not the social. Powell had worked his arse off arranging a six-thirty news conference. It was five-fifteen now; if they didn’t get a move on he’d miss the action. Suppose he could leave Carol mopping up the dregs; girl needed the experience.
It was more April than early July. Momentarily cocooned against a storm both meteorological and mental, Bev sat head in hands, taking deep calming breaths. Her inner tempest had been going on pretty much all year. She straightened, let out a deep sigh that lifted a short fringe the shade of Guinness. A final check in the mirror confirmed her mascara wasn’t waterproof. She wiped licked fingers under panda eyes then, using an old Evening News as a rain-hat, reluctantly left the haven of the car. Three o’clock.
An Insatiable Passion by Lynne Graham