Chapter EightThe next day, Jake sat in the departures lounge at Bristol airport, a large cup of coffee next to his laptop. He'd driven up from Tintagel, the ninety-minute journey without incident as the West Country sat under sunny skies. He'd checked in, filing through airport security like a lemming before finding a coffee outlet close to his gate. His laptop was open, a file folder titled Lauren Thorne waiting to be clicked as he sipped at his coffee. He double-clicked the keyboard, a Word document and a JPEG image presenting themselves to the private investigator. He opened the picture, staring at Joseph Thorne's smiling face. He looked roughly the same age as Jake, a week's worth of stubble covering his chin. He wore steel-rimmed glasses, giving him a geography teacher look. Out of cu
