Deep Hurt - Eva Hudson Page 0,50
tell you?”
“Not much more than what was in his medical report.”
Ingrid wasn’t sure she believed him. “Maybe I should speak to her too.”
“We’re not supposed to be duplicating work.”
“She must have been able to give you some background.”
“Do you know how many service personnel and their families she treats in a week?”
“Not that may suffering from PTSD.”
“Foster’s been going to regular counseling sessions, making good progress, she said.”
“And that’s all she had to say?”
“There was nothing more to say.”
“What did she make of what happened in London?”
Gurley looked away.
“Major?”
He screwed up his face. “She was surprised. Shocked. He seemed to be doing fine, she said. She thought he had his anger issues under control.” He folded his arms. “Just shows you how anyone can make mistakes.”
Ingrid wasn’t happy that Gurley had interviewed the doctor without her. Was there something he wasn’t sharing? “Does the doctor have any inkling what his next move might be?”
“I didn’t bother to ask her. I knew she wouldn’t know a damn thing about it.”
“So, what’s next?”
“We both know the manager of the bar was lying.”
“About something, maybe.”
“So we go back to the village and watch her for a while. See where she goes. See who visits her.”
It wasn’t the dumbest idea, and in the absence of anything better, Ingrid couldn’t really object. “OK—but we limit the surveillance to a couple of hours.”
“How about six hours and I’ll buy you dinner after?”
“How about four and you promise me you weren’t actually asking me out.”
“Have no fear of that. You’re really not my type. No offense. Four hours and you can buy yourself a pizza, eat it all on your lonesome.”
“Deal.”
After Ingrid had updated both DCI Radcliffe and Sol Franklin, she and Gurley returned to the village in a less conspicuous vehicle than his Oldsmobile. Gurley had somehow managed to get hold of a beat up Land Rover that blended right into the rural surroundings. Ingrid insisted she drove and that Gurley slide down in the passenger seat as far as he could and wear a dark knitted hat over his bright blond crew cut. He was a difficult man to disguise.
Ingrid parked forty or so yards from the Hare and Hounds, making sure they had a clear view of the front and rear exits. Unless the pub had some kind of tunnel leading from its basement to a neighboring property, they’d be able to observe anyone leaving or entering the premises. She looked at her watch. “Four hours.”
Half an hour into their surveillance, Ingrid’s cell phone beeped with a text message. It was from Ralph Mills. She’d been letting his calls go to voicemail since their date on Monday night—she didn’t want to be distracted by him in the middle of a manhunt. Not that he’d called her that often. In fact, he’d probably judged the amount of attention he was giving her just about right. His messages had been sweet and funny. He wasn’t hassling her for another date, just letting her know she was on his mind. Given she had nothing better to do for the next three and a half hours, she couldn’t see any reason not to reply. She didn’t want him thinking she wasn’t interested. She quickly tapped a message into her phone:
Good thnx, u? on stake out w/ gurley need entertainment
She could sense Gurley was glancing toward her. He was somehow managing to demonstrate his disapproval merely by altering the pattern of his breathing.
Only jokes i know are infantile or adolescent… sorry to disappoint
How about a poem?
There was a young lady from minnesota, who… used up the state’s hog feed quota
Is that it?
Her pigs were so big, she needed to dig…
Huh?
Nope sorry… run out of rhymes
Gurley let out a long sigh and shifted in his seat. “If this mission is getting in the way of something more important, I could just complete it without you.”
Ingrid turned to look at him. His expression was fixed in a grimace. He really wasn’t joking. “From now on, it has my undivided attention. How about that?” She tapped another quick message to Ralph:
Expect u to get it finished by next time i see u
She hesitated before sending. That reply would mean she was suggesting another date. She considered deleting it, but with Gurley breathing down her neck, she hit send before she got to the end of the thought process. Ralph had almost written her a limerick, for God’s sake. No one had ever done that for her before. That fact alone was definitely