Caroline hadn’t coped well. Jessica didn’t really know how to deal with things but eventually her friend had gone to stay with Jessica’s parents for a couple of weeks. They said they saw her as a daughter anyway.

And now, a few weeks later, the two of them were at the wake following Mary Keegan’s funeral, along with many members of the investigating force. Cole had left not long after the ceremony had finished but Aylesbury had now come over to speak to the dead woman’s husband. Jessica guided Caroline away towards some plastic seats to leave the two of them to it. Jessica felt guilty for her early attitude to her boss. She could now see what an asset he was. He had been terrific looking after her following the arrest. The first instinct would have been to interview her and find out everything she knew but he had shielded her.

Garry Ashford meanwhile had written a string of stories about her bravery. She didn’t know where the details had come from and felt largely embarrassed about it. He had been at the funeral too, a few rows across from Jessica. She had seen his solemn face during the readings, thinking he was someone else she had misjudged.

Caroline sat down and Jessica went to take the seat next to her. Her friend waved her away. ‘It’s okay. You go mix. I could do with a few minutes on my own.’

The woman gave a thin smile and Jessica kissed her forehead. She turned around and walked over to Garry Ashford, who was standing on his own drinking from a plastic cup near the door. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

‘You can take the piss out of my looks now if you want,’ Jessica said, pointing at one of the cuts on her face. ‘It looks like I’ve gone a few rounds with a heavyweight boxer, doesn’t it?’

Garry smiled. ‘Maybe a middleweight. Your nose is only horrifically deformed off to one side, not fully smashed up.’

Jessica grinned, fuller than she had done in weeks. ‘Oi.’

Rowlands came over to join them. ‘Garry, this is Detective Constable Rowlands. Detective Constable, this is Garry Ashford,’ Jessica said. The two shook hands.

‘How are you doing?’ Rowlands asked her.

‘Not too bad. Why? Are you concerned about me?’ she asked sarcastically. ‘That’s lovely . . .’

‘If you’re not back fit and healthy soon, I’m going to have to find someone else to take the piss out of.’

Jessica laughed. ‘Cheers. You’re all heart. I’m surprised you’re not over there trying to cop off with one of the nieces or something.’ She pointed towards the buffet table where two pretty twenty-something girls were chatting to each other.

‘I’m not that low,’ Rowlands said, glancing towards them. ‘Still, they are next to the food and I’m feeling a bit peckish.’ He rubbed his belly and grinned, before giving her a wink.

‘See ya, Dave,’ Garry said.

Jessica shook her head, smiling. ‘One day he’ll get his comeuppance,’ she said.

Garry shrugged. ‘So are you okay then?’

‘Yeah. It’ll all be fine.’

Garry took a deep breath. ‘How about a drink one night then?’

Jessica looked back at him. ‘Are you using a wake as an opportunity to ask me on a date?’

‘Maybe.’

Jessica looked away and gave a very audible ‘Umm’ intended for his benefit. ‘If I say “yes”, are you going to explain to me how you know Detective Constable Rowlands’s first name?’

Vigilante Contents

PROLOGUE

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

PROLOGUE

The man had deliberately worn soft-bottomed dark trainers and dug out some old black jogging pants and a navy-blue T-shirt. There wasn’t a great amount of choice in his wardrobe but at least he had enough dark clothes. He was also grateful for the unseasonably dry weather. He didn’t own a big thick jacket but, even if he did, it would have made him stand out.

He had quickly discovered following someone was not as easy as it appeared on television shows. It didn’t help that he only had set times during the night where he could carry out work such as this. Wearing dark items made it a lot simpler and the fact the council couldn’t be bothered fixing street lights was pretty much a godsend. The trainers were something he had overlooked at first. It seemed silly now but not only were they quiet to walk in, which was exactly what he needed, but they gave him a head-start if he did have to run for it. He had made a special effort in recent months to get himself into shape. At his age, he was never going to be an athlete but he had managed to lose a few pounds from his stomach and put on a bit of muscle in his shoulders and arms. Free access to the gym had helped and he was faster too. Each session would begin with running. It wasn’t stamina he needed, just speed. He knew he wouldn’t have to race over a distance if it came to it, he only had to sprint to safety.

A few test runs had helped, trailing random people after dark and learning not to be seen. There was no rush to get things done, it was all about waiting for an opportunity and not being caught. The targets on his list weren’t going anywhere and one by one they would all be dealt with.

Hopefully tonight was the time when the first name would be scratched from that list.

The man looked up a few hundred yards ahead of him. The person he wanted was still with a couple of his friends but it looked as if they were finally saying their goodbyes. Though he had made every effort to stay out of the illuminated areas, the three people ahead of him were standing under a street light. The man watched their cigarette smoke drift upwards and could hear their faint voices. He saw one of their hands go into a jean pocket and swiftly transfer a palmful of something to the man he himself was watching. The handover was so quick and assured, neither of them even bothered looking around. Why would they? They knew the chance of being caught was minimal and, even if they were, they would be back on the streets soon enough.

The person who had initiated the transfer shook hands with the third member of the group and then turned around, walking towards a nearby alleyway. Even from this distance, he could see the person walking away had his jeans slouched somewhere underneath his backside, his underwear sitting high above them. He shook his head from the shadows at the ridiculousness of this current fashion trend.

Now there were just two people left under the light, the man decided he could move closer. His step was gentle but he followed a deliberate path towards his target, stopping around fifty metres away and resting against a wall in a heavily shadowed area. He could hear the voices of the two remaining people clearly now. Their local accents jarred as they spoke in American slang as if they had been born in 1960s Harlem.

It wasn’t the black or white issue that annoyed him, he was fairly colour-blind when it came to race, but young white men who were busy making other people’s lives a misery and thought they lived in a ghetto really did wind him up. He saw the type all the time – those who listened to rap music and thought they were some tough gangster because of it.