NINETY-THREE
Monday morning and Grace was holding the regular briefing meeting when a WPC knocked on the door. ‘Excuse me’ ma’am, Mr Claybourne thought you should see this, even though he knew you would be holding a briefing.’
‘Thank you,’ Grace answered, waiting until the WPC had left the room, it must be important for the Superintendent to intrude into an important briefing like this.
She opened the envelope and slid out the document inside. She read it through, read it again, and with a deep long sigh sat back in her chair and briefly held her head in her hands. She looked up and around at the assembled team who gazed at her expectantly, wondering what was going on.
At last Grace spoke, slowly and succinctly, as if to emphasise the import of what she was saying. ‘On Friday afternoon
