“Needed to get to this point on your own.”
“Yes.” She nodded and untangled herself from me. “I really did.”
Reluctantly, I let her go.
“I thought perhaps,” she went on, “at the station, with the databases and stuff that you have, maybe it could be a starting point. Or should I come and report him as a missing person?” She picked up the spoon and stirred the sauce. “Maybe even a private detective, I’ve got some savings.”
“No need for that, I’ll see what I can do.” I leaned back on the counter and folded my arms, content to just watch her.
“It’s difficult without a surname, though,” she said. “And anyone other than you would think I was mad not to know it.”
“Bailey,” I said. “That’s the name he’s most likely to have gone by.”
“What?” She spun, spoon aloft, and a drip of red sauce landed on the floor. “How do you know that?”
I grabbed a piece of kitchen roll and stooped to clean it up. “You know I’ve nearly made detective twice. I have my ways and means of finding shit out.”
She quickly went back to the sauce. “Well, that’s great, I mean…yes, that’s a good start.”
“And his date of birth is eighteenth of May, ninety-seven right?”
“Yes, how did you…?” She laughed. “Yes, but that’s an easy one, same as mine.”
Nodding, I recalled that I still had a clue leading to Bristol University, but I kept that to myself, for now.
The next day was spent enduring colleague’s questions about my health and commiserations about getting shot while not even on duty. Eventually, though, I found a quiet moment to make some enquiries about Jeremy Bailey.
Seemed he’d got himself a National Insurance number and a student loan. The loan quickly led me to Bristol, as suspected, and one phone call to the university’s administration department told me he was studying politics.
Not what I’d been expecting.
“Thanks,” I said to the woman on the end of the line. “You’ve been most helpful.”
“Of course, Officer, and if you need anything else, don’t hesitate.”
“You don’t happen to have an address, do you?”
“No, I’m sorry. It says to be confirmed. He was obviously still searching for somewhere to live when the course started, and he hasn’t updated us.”
“Okay, no worries, I’ll find it out. Have a good day.” I hung up.
There was only one thing for it. I’d have to take a trip to Bristol. I felt good, like I was back on track. The asshole who’d shot me hadn’t knocked me down for long, yet he was gone forever. And I had a mission, a guy to find. A guy who hopefully would make Amy’s life even fuller; having no blood family to be in touch with, to care for her, was a crap card to be dealt for anyone, let alone someone so sweet and with so much love to give.
I ducked away mid-afternoon with a pair of cuffs attached to my belt. My balls tingled as I thought of all the imaginative ways I could make Amy come while I had her fastened to thebed, naked. Her glorious small tits flushed with desire and her pussy wet. I’d have her begging for more, writhing with need, my name a series of gasps that caught on her breath.
My cock stiffened. “Fuck,” I muttered, helping myself to a set of patrol car keys. I signed the vehicle out even though it was against the rules. No one would question me, the place was quiet. And if they did, I wasn’t feeling up to the walk home, especially not in uniform, no big deal.
A few minutes later, I drew up outside Amy’s flat, beneath the huge tree that fluttered its leaves beside her window. The place felt like home now. Not sure when that had happened, after I got shot perhaps, but it was a nice feeling after dossing at Rose Cottage for so long.
My phone pinged. A message from my son, Nathan. He was having fun in Florida but wished I was there. He’d attached a photo of him and Harry in front of some scary big roller coaster. They both wore Mickey Mouse ears and big smiles.
My heart squeezed, and I closed my eyes and nipped the bridge of my nose. How could my emotions fly around so fast? Seconds ago I’d been glad to be here, right here, and now I wished I was with them…my boys…my beautiful sons. Why didheget to have fun with them while I was working to pay more than half their damn mortgage? Heck, probably most of the holiday, too.
A blackbird sang in the tree above me, a twittering lullaby, and I opened my eyes and took a deep breath. The scent of grass and petals and the sweet smoky tang of a nearby BBQ filled my nose. I had to get a grip. This was my life now, and at least I had one. The bullet could have easily hit me between the eyes.
I locked the car and shoved the keys in my pocket. Had to look on the bright side. Always.
Within ten minutes, Amy wandered into the apartment.
