Adams had woken late that morning. Bellamy"s bed hadn"t been slept in, and, if he"d had something pressing to do, he"d have been pissed off the boy hadn"t come back. As it was, he had little better to do than sit, have a pint, and wait for the sheriff to get back to him. And in truth he was secretly pleased Bellamy was taking time out to enjoy himself for a change. God knew the boy needed to let his hair down.
When Adams pulled the kid from the work camp it had been an entirely selfish act. The Institute were on his back, and he was beginning to feel too isolated to keep working cases in London. He knew he needed backup and a sounding board he could bounce ideas off, someone that would appreciate the s**t hours and worse pay. He also knew he would have to justify whoever he brought in to
