12
Jamie Morell buried her hands deep into her jacket pockets and with shoulders hunched, paced her living room. Ben counted each slap of her bare feet on the timber flooring. Five steps, turn, six steps, turn again.
‘I’m going to lose my job,’ she said over again, followed by, ‘I can’t believe you did that. I’m going to lose my job for sure.’
‘I’m making tea, want some?’ Ben waited for a reply and then went into the kitchen anyway and put the kettle on.
Five steps, turn …
‘Nice hot cuppa is what she needs. Strong and black, that’ll calm her down.’
Six steps …
Ben knew he’d done the right thing. When you came against a brick wall in this kind of research the best thing to do was shake a few trees and see what fell out. And as far as he and the Jane Doe lying in the morgue were concerned, trees……
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