Eighteen
Reg Daniels sat in his van in Seaview Street and waited. He’d followed Drake and the girl when they’d left the apartment at seven thirty, and watched them enjoy a meal together across the restaurant from the table where he’d eaten alone. Drake and the girl had walked back to the apartment in Seaview Street at nine fifteen. Reg had walked along behind them and climbed back into his van to wait for Drake to come out and make his way home. It was now almost eleven o’clock.
There was no sign of Drake’s car, so Reg assumed Drake had come down from the city on the tram, which suited him just fine. It meant he could intercept him in the darkness of the street and not have to jump him in the car park outside the apartments.
Reg drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. If Drake didn’t
