Chasing Innocence by John Potter Read Free Book Online

services now felt like the wrong place to be, she felt too exposed.
    ‘Adam, look, I’m sorry. You know me, know why better than anyone. I’ll call you from the car.’
    She disconnected and brushed away tears with trembling hands. She took a last sip from her coffee and dropped the phone into her bag, stepping down from the seating area and towards the entrance. She caught a glimpse of ginger and then someone knocked hard into her. Stumbling she felt hands on her shoulder then her arm and her waist.
    Sarah did not like being touched, at all. Especially without invitation. She reacted instinctively, punching out the heel of her hand. It was the ginger-haired man, that same stupid grin, his hands roving. Her palm scuffed up off his chest and hard under his chin, his teeth clomping closed with the force. Simultaneously she felt a tug on her bag, turning as Brodie wrenched it free. Duncan ran and Brodie followed. Except Brodie ran into a human wall. Sarah looked up in disbelief. It was the Rover driver.
    He effortlessly lifted Brodie as if he were a mannequin, plucking free Sarah’s bag. Then a casual shift of his wrist sent Brodie sprawling and sliding across the floor, frantically scrambling away. The driver watched him race through the doors, then stepped across, holding out Sarah’s bag. He smiled self-consciously.
    ‘He ran into me.’
    She looked up into the face of her nemesis. He was really quite good-looking. Not in an angular jawed way, more boyish, with a natural blush that added to the impression. Still in shock she reached forward and took her bag. ‘Thanks, I mean thank you. I really appreciate that.’
    He looked at her, concerned. ‘Are you OK? You look like you should sit down.’ He moved forward as if to help her and Sarah stepped back.
    ‘No, I’m fine. It’s been one of those days.’
    ‘Tell me about it,’ he replied.
    She wrenched her eyes from his, looking into her bag. Her mind was racing. ‘I don’t think there’s anything missing.’
    ‘That’s good then.’ He paused as if unsure what to do next, turning to leave.
    ‘Sarah,’ she said, stepping towards him, holding out her hand.
    He turned back and smiled politely, engulfing her hand in his, but lightly, as if he knew how fragile she was.
    ‘Simon,’ he said. ‘Safe journey.’ And then he walked away.
    Sarah stood still, a stationary figure amid the flow of people, ignoring the questioning looks from those passing her. Her overriding impression was that he smelt like…like walking on the beach. Warm eyes that contained nothing malign. A trace of an accent but nothing she could place. He was softly spoken, maybe northern with the hard edges smoothed out. She propelled her limbs into action, scanning the floor for anything she might have dropped. Then she followed Simon out through the doors, doubting herself all the more.

TWELVE
     
    Adam’s taxi edged through the market square, through the traffic lights and past the train station, over the bridge spanning the tracks and came to a stop by a long low building. Two Volvos were parked outside, clad in luminous blue and yellow squares. A sign above the building’s glass door read Hambury Police Station .
    The door swept open and he stepped inside, not sure what to expect. He found himself staring at a ticket machine. He pressed the red button and after a pause the machine dispensed a blue ticket.
    The main waiting area was large, the floor a worn linoleum. The walls were covered in posters and government issue paint. Bolted to the floor were rows of chairs facing clear perspex booths. A mix of people were dotted among the seats. Sitting front centre was a soldier of fortune type, complete with downward curling moustache and green combat jacket. Adam chose a seat several spaces along. The soldier of fortune did not look like he wanted company.
    A buzzer sounded and a display in the ceiling flashed 533 . Adam’s ticket read 536. He watched a large woman stand and make her way to