Hunter Hunted by Jack Gatland (best romantic books to read .TXT) 📕

same story as we had in the report. She’d worked with Donna on the day of her death and didn’t know that anything bad would happen. Donna had met with three people that day; Will Harrison, Malcolm Gladwell and a journalist named Kendis Taylor.’

‘Why Taylor?’

‘She didn’t know. But I got the impression that Laurie Hooper knew more about Kendis Taylor than she was letting on.’

‘Maybe she was the source that Kendis spoke to Declan about?’ Bullman suggested. Anjli nodded.

‘Apparently she was also in the pub that blew up the same night that Kendis and Declan were,’ she replied. ‘But she wouldn’t say who with.’

Anjli pulled out her phone as it beeped, her eyebrows rising as she read the message.

‘Anything interesting?’ Bullman indicated the message on the phone.

‘Doctor Marcos,’ Anjli nodded. ‘She thinks that the murder weapon could be an incredibly overpriced letter opener.’

‘It’s Westminster,’ Bullman snorted. ‘Everything’s expensive.’ She caught the expression on Anjli’s face, however. ‘What?’

‘Harrison, when I confronted him tonight,’ Anjli replied. ‘I was goading him, saying that he’d have to fall on his sword. He asked if a letter opener would do.’

‘Interesting, but not enough to convict.’

‘Yeah, true,’ Anjli finished her drink. ‘Come on, let’s go, Guv. I think we’ve given Sutcliffe and his crew enough time to dig some holes. Let’s go find Monroe.’

Malcolm Gladwell hadn’t expected Laurie Hooper to come back to him that night, although it was a welcome distraction for him. Allowing her access by buzzing her into the building, he met her at the door to his apartment, hugging her tightly as she cried into his arms.

‘What happened?’ he asked as he brought her into the room, sitting her down on the sofa and walking over to the kitchen counter where, out of a cabinet he found and poured out a generous measure of vodka, walking over and placing it into the crying woman’s hands.

‘They questioned me,’ Laurie mumbled, sipping from the tumbler.

‘Who did?’ Gladwell felt a twinge of fear run down his spine. ‘The police?’

Laurie nodded. ‘And Will,’ she continued. ‘They bundled me out of Westminster in a car, Malcolm. They didn’t want me talking about Donna.’

‘What did they want to know about Donna?’ Gladwell asked. ‘Do you mean the police?’

Laurie nodded. ‘They wanted to know about her last day. The officer, an Indian woman, she said she didn’t believe that Donna died, and she knew I didn’t think so either. She knew, Malcolm! She knew I was the whistle-blower!’

‘Hush, darling,’ Gladwell replied, sitting down beside her and placing a protective arm around her shoulders, feeling her lean into him as he continued. ‘They don’t know that. Only I know that, remember? And I agreed to speak with Kendis for you, so she only ever believed that I was the whistle-blower. You’re safe, my dear.’

‘What did you speak to Donna about?’ Laurie asked softly. ‘The day she died?’

If Gladwell was surprised by the question, he didn’t show it. ‘I was warning her about Will,’ he replied. ‘That you didn’t cross Sir Hiss and expect to get away unbloodied. She was angry that they had duped her, and that Rattlestone was being dumped on her shoulders. I was taking it off them.’

‘I always wondered if you were having an affair,’ Laurie forced a weak smile, sipping again from the tumbler of vodka. Gladwell laughed out loud at this.

’She’s definitely not my type,’ he said as he stroked Laurie’s hair.

‘I’m sorry I came here,’ Laurie mumbled, her cheeks reddening, partly from the vodka but also as she flushed. ‘I didn’t think it was right to go home.’

‘I’m glad you came,’ Gladwell stood up now, leaving Laurie at the sofa as he walked across the room, picking a small, thin box up from the side cabinet. ‘I have news for you.’

‘What sort of news?’ Laurie was suspicious as Gladwell returned, placing the box on the table. ‘Good news?’

‘That depends,’ Gladwell took the tumbler and placed it on the table next to the box, as he took Laurie’s hands, turning her attention to his face. ‘I know how Donna died. Will Harrison brutally murdered her. I’ll have the full facts texted to me tonight, and we’ll go to the police tomorrow.’

‘They won’t believe us,’ Laurie moaned. ‘Will? He’s protected.’

‘True, he’ll never be charged with it, but that doesn’t mean he can’t face justice,’ Gladwell picked up the box. ‘You see, he made a massive error yesterday. He killed a journalist and tried to blame it on a police officer.’

‘Kendis Taylor?’ Laurie half rose, but Gladwell’s grip kept her in place. ‘He killed her? How do you know this?’

‘Because thanks to my own assets, I know where he did it, why he did it, how he did it…’ Gladwell opened the box, showing the contents; a thin, sharp looking gunmetal grey letter opener, with black leather insets.

‘… and what he used to do it with,’ Malcolm Gladwell finished. ‘And tomorrow, Will Harrison is going to find that Karma is a bitch.’

‘Is he here?’ Anjli asked, leaning against one of the heavy bags as Johnny Lucas faced her, his expression one of amusement.

‘I should start charging rent,’ he replied. ‘I’ve got more coppers here now than boxers.’ He looked at Bullman, currently examining a spot of blood on the floor. ‘Boxers, love. Bleed when punched.’ He turned back to Anjli with a broad smile.

‘I know I said don’t be a stranger, but I never said bring all your pals.’

‘Interesting times,’ Anjli replied.

‘You gonna introduce us?’ Johnny indicated Bullman.

‘No,’ Anjli replied simply as, from the back corridor, Doctor Marcos walked out into the gym, Monroe with her.

‘These ones don’t have to be kicked out,’ he said wearily as he smiled.

‘We had some visitors,’ Doctor Marcos explained. ‘They were quite forceful, but eventually were convinced that they should leave.’

‘They’re probably trying to gain a warrant for here right now,’ Monroe added.

‘That won’t happen,’ Johnny replied, without explaining why he was so sure.

Anjli couldn’t help herself; she walked over and embraced Monroe.

‘How are you feeling?’ she