Chapter Twenty-TwoDetective Chief Inspector Richard Proffitt downed his fourth whisky – or was it his fifth, he was already losing count? – as he struggled to keep open his tired eyes. How much he would have preferred to be at home, looking for sleep rather than alcohol to bring him respite, however temporary, from his anguish, instead of propping up a bar in a half-empty lounge at Heathrow Airport.
There had been no surprise in receiving the summons to a meeting after such a disaster. What did surprise him was the sight of the figure that settled on a seat at an empty table. Those large, beautiful, blue, eyes, so alluringly full of promise, seductively flashing a greeting in his direction, could only belong to one person. He had never expected to see her again. Glass in hand, he moved ac
