Page 1

chapter

one

Gabriella liked some parts of her job a lot. There was plenty to dislike, but being out on the street, getting to know the fascinating city that was London, was definitely a plus.

Way better than working behind a counter or at a typewriter.

Today, though, with the bitter wind cutting her cheeks like a knife-wielding assassin, she might have preferred to be indoors.

It was November now, and the air had moved past crisp and into biting territory. She stopped and tugged her scarf a little tighter around her neck before continuing on her route.

In the distance, from behind her, she heard the wail of a police siren and she turned to look back, head cocked, listening to the sound increase as the police car came down the high street and then raced past.

It sounded like something was going on in the direction of Hammersmith Bridge.

It felt to her like sirens wailing in the background had been the soundtrack to London life so far.

Another gust of icy wind reminded her to keep moving, for warmth if nothing else, and she turned back to her job.

There were no meters along this residential street, but there were double yellows and she could see someone had parked on some, almost blocking a driveway.

As she walked toward the car, she paid attention to who was out on the street, because issuing a fine sometimes resulted in a scene, and she very much preferred to avoid them.

It looked like she was the only one foolish enough to be out in this weather, though. Rain was coming, and the dark sky made the day almost as gloomy as it would be at dusk.

Just like in her own neighborhood, old Victorians were the majority of the houses on both sides of the street. Some were still single family dwellings, as they’d been built to be, but about half of them were now converted to flats.

Her own flat was in a converted Victorian in Notting Hill, but it was in far less pristine condition than the ones here. Whoever owned these kept them in decent shape.

Her breath was coming out in puffs of condensation as she reached the offending vehicle. The car was an older model yellow Morris Minor, with dirty windows and rubbish on the back seat.

As she noted down the registration and began writing up the fixed penalty notice, she heard a car turning down from the high street, and she glanced back to see a white transit van driving slowly toward her.

It passed her and stopped outside a house that looked like it was being converted into flats or at least worked on. There was a skip bin in the small front garden, and some old furniture had been put out on the pavement in front of the low front gate.

Gabriella finished writing the fine and slid the paperwork into a plastic sleeve to stick on to the front windscreen, but her attention was on the van. It was idling in front of the house, and she wondered if the driver was loathe to get out into the cold.

She moved on, toward a car that had fitted itself into a space on the curb by jumping the pavement at an angle and obstructing access to a fire hydrant. She looked around again for the possible driver as she approached the sleek navy Rover 90. In stark contrast to the Morris Minor, it was clean both inside and out.

As she bent her head over her clipboard, she heard the sliding sound of the van door opening. She couldn’t see who got out, but she did find it odd that there was no conversation.

She affixed the fine, adjusted her scarf again, and admitted she was stalling because something didn’t seem right. But the van door suddenly closed and she became aware her toes felt like ice cubes in her shoes, so she began moving again.

Her head was bent so she could tuck her chin deeper into her scarf, but she lifted it up as the van passed her, traveling a lot faster now as it roared down the road.

She glanced back at the house. Two people, who had most likely gotten out of the van, were standing at the front door.

A porch light went on, and she caught the gleam of blond-streaked hair in the gloom. A woman stood beside a much taller man, and he was holding her arm in a way that seemed more menacing to Gabriella than protective.

As the door opened, the woman turned her head toward her, and Gabriella realized she was young, maybe a few years younger than Gabriella herself.

Someone inside pulled the door open a little wider and the man pushed the girl inside and the door closed.

Gabriella shivered and then kept going. She had to loop around to the left, work the metered main road down one side and then up the other, and then come back down this street on the opposite side.

She would be passing the house again and she knew she’d be paying careful attention to it.

She hadn’t liked the way the woman had been shoved inside.