Deep Hurt - Eva Hudson Page 0,51

worthy of a second date.

I’ll do my best… good luck with mission/gurley

Ingrid’s phone buzzed again twenty minutes later: Natasha McKittrick calling. She dismissed the call, not wanting to give Gurley another excuse to question her commitment to the case. Her phone vibrated again to let her know she had a voice message. Dammit, Gurley was making her feel like a misbehaving schoolgirl. She turned away toward the driver window, shoved the phone against her right ear, and listened to the message.

“What have you done to my detective?” McKittrick said, her tone completely deadpan. “He’s got the stupidest grin on his face and is practically bloody useless. I’ve had to send him out for coffee in the hope that the fresh air might blow some sense into him. Call me as soon as you pick this up.”

Smiling to herself, Ingrid deleted the voicemail and slipped the phone into a pocket.

“Whoever that was, she has a voice that carries,” Gurley informed her. “You might want to let her know.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“I’m so glad this operation is giving you plenty of time to organize your social engagements.”

Why was Gurley so pissed at her? She wondered if maybe he didn’t have much of a social life himself. Working in Security Forces on a base in the middle of the English countryside had to be a pretty lonely existence. Maybe she should feel sorry for the guy.

Three and three-quarter hours later, just as the daylight was starting to fade and Ingrid’s behind was aching due to the thin layer of foam between the worn upholstery and the rock hard driver’s seat, she turned to Gurley. “I think maybe we should call it a day.”

Gurley tapped a big forefinger on his watch. “Fifteen more minutes.”

“Nothing’s going to happen now.” Ingrid adjusted her position and tried to shake some feeling back into her numb right foot.

“You agreed to four hours.”

“OK!” She threw up her hands in surrender.

A few minutes later, Yvonne Sherwood appeared at the door of the pub. She was carrying a large sports bag. The woman struggled with the bag to a nearby car and dumped it on the passenger seat.

Gurley mumbled something about patience being a virtue and slid a little further down into his seat. “Remember not to get too close.” There was a definite smug tone to his voice.

“I have tailed a few vehicles in my time.” Ingrid could tell Gurley was frustrated not to be sitting behind the wheel.

The pub manager’s dinky silver car pulled away from the curb and Ingrid started up the Land Rover once there was a distance of fifty or so yards between the two vehicles.

The silver car stopped a minute later outside the convenience store and Yvonne Sherwood jumped out. She looked up and down the street, her gaze lingering in their direction for more seconds than was comfortable.

Ingrid held her breath.

A moment later Sherwood turned away and disappeared inside the store. She re-emerged after a few minutes with a bag of groceries. She shoved the bag onto the passenger seat of the car. Then, instead of getting back behind the wheel, she returned to the store. She pulled something from her purse and headed for the ATM next to the door. She removed the thick wad of cash that came out of the slot, found another card in her purse and repeated the process. They watched her do the same thing with another two cards, then shove all the cash into a pocket.

“Goddammit,” Gurley said, when Sherwood headed back to her car. “I knew I was right about her.”

26

In the deepening gloom Ingrid and Gurley trailed behind Yvonne Sherwood for fifteen minutes, not daring to put on the headlights of the Land Rover, edging along the narrow country lanes.

“We’re going to lose her, put your foot on the gas.” Gurley was leaning so close to the windshield, his nose was practically pressed up against the glass.

“Maybe now’s the time to call the cops. Get some backup.”

“They made their attitude quite clear this morning. I won’t have them swarming all over the countryside and screwing everything up. We call them when she’s led us to Foster.”

“If that’s where she’s going. We’re still working on a hunch here. What if we lose her?” They turned a sharp bend in the road and Ingrid could just make out the beams from Sherwood’s headlights in the distance. It felt more like luck than judgment.

“Maintain this speed and we won’t lose her. We don’t need backup. I’m not sure