Chapter Twenty-Five – KateThis is a dream, or a nightmare, from which I can't awaken. My heavy legs drag and clip the floor as we proceed inside. Voices broadcast over police Airwave radios, but I can't concentrate, or make sense of anything.
I pass Gareth Hawkings and Mark Pearce, whom I worked undercover with on a d**g raid; both look perplexed. Embarrassed, I bow my head, studying the scuffed lino. Heavy-duty double doors slam against the wall startling me.
A woman sits hunched over ahead of us; face collapsed in her palms. Her identity is concealed but I recognise her electric blue coat.
My heart is thrashing against my breastbone. We near the custody suite, my stilettos breaking the silence in which she sits. Our eyes meet. She's almost unrecognisable and appears to have aged ten y
