Free Blood Falls by Tom Bale Page B

south-west, not Bristol.’
    ‘I know—’
    ‘And I told you about your mum. Weren’t you going to get in touch with her?’
    ‘Yes. I phoned her from a call box in Wales. She’s doing pretty well. I also emailed my brother. I’m not blaming you for a second, Maz. But something’s going on here.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘You remember last time, the reason my cover was blown?’ Joe didn’t want to spell it out – that he’d been betrayed by a police officer on Doug Morton’s payroll – and Maz understood his need for caution.
    ‘Uh-huh.’
    ‘I wonder if something similar has happened again. Perhaps they picked up “south-west”, used that as their starting point and then got lucky.’
    ‘But that means someone close by.’ Maz groaned. ‘I’m bloody careful, Joe.’
    ‘Then maybe they tracked the emails, but that would take some serious outside help. The Mortons aren’t exactly technical wizards.’
    ‘Either way, it’s not good.’
    ‘Don’t I know it?’ Joe was gazing idly at a selection of religious tracts in the shop window. The one that caught his eye was called Praying for a Miracle?
    ‘Are you safe for the time being, while I try and work out what happened?’
    ‘I think so, but that’s not my main concern. What if they’ve managed to trace Helen and the girls?’
    Maz swore softly. ‘I’d have heard something. I’m sure they’re fine.’
    ‘You don’t have any idea where they are?’
    ‘No. Whatever else might be leaking round here, that secret is still locked up tight.’
    ‘I hope so. I never thought I’d say this, Maz, but it’s almost a relief that you haven’t found them.’
    Afterwards, Joe felt bad that he might have offended his friend, and yet a tiny disloyal voice in his head refused to be silenced. Had Maz said or done something, however inadvertently, that had drawn Danny Morton to Bristol?
    Brooding again, he continued down the hill. The High Street was busy, but the demographics were markedly different to the part of Bristol where he’d been living. The streets of Clifton were full of affluent, trendy young mothers, as well as lots of students. In Trelennan the residents might still be well-off by national standards, but they were older – and less concerned with fashion.
    That was putting it kindly, Joe thought, as he realised how well his zip-up jacket allowed him to blend in. There were very few students – hardly anyone in their teens or twenties, in fact. Some harassed-looking mums with babies and toddlers and a sprinkling of tourists, again mostly elderly. There was no real ethnic variety, but that probably wasn’t too unusual for a small West Country town. Even so, something about the mix nagged at him.
    One refreshing difference was the individuality of the shops themselves. Aside from a Co-op and a Boots, there were hardly any of the generic chain stores that rendered most towns indistinguishable from one another.
    Having made this observation, Joe felt like a hypocrite when he realised that Boots was actually the one shop he needed.
    He picked up a toothbrush, deodorant, shaving gel and a pack of cheap disposable razors. There were two checkouts open, both staffed by young women. One was serving a customer, while the other chatted and giggled with a man in a security guard’s uniform.
    When her attention wavered the guard looked round, and Joe saw it was Reece’s partner, the man with the curly hair. He puffed out his chest and sent Joe an intimidating glare. Quite untroubled, Joe held his gaze, and after a few seconds it was the guard who turned away.
    Joe paid for the toiletries and left, trying to push aside the feeling that he’d unwittingly embarked on a route towards a confrontation he could do without.
    His next stop was the plaza, and specifically the library – if it was open. He’d come to rely heavily on libraries over the past couple of years, and he was dismayed by the constant threats to the service.
    According to the sign