Free Settled Blood by Mari Hannah Page B

answer. ‘That means low-flying exercises at all times of the day and night. Aircraft noise – fixed wing or helicopter – isn’t something the locals would notice a whole
lot.’
    Daniels’ eyes fell on his new desk, in particular on his most prized possession: a photograph of his late wife Stella posing in the foyer of the city’s Malmaison Hotel. She had her
glad rags on and high-heeled shoes, her shapely dancer’s legs on show for all to see. Next to her photograph sat a card with Daniels’ name on it.
    Damn! He’d remembered it was her birthday.
    She hoped he wasn’t planning anything. She was supposed to be having dinner with her father, who was trying his best to make things right between them. He’d booked a table at
Bouchon, a French restaurant in Hexham she’d heard good reports of. Friends had been there and had raved about the food. She looked at her watch. It was far too late to cancel.
But what
choice did she have?
It would cause a row, she knew that much. Her father, a stickler for protocol and good manners, would take it as a personal affront if she allowed her job to come first
again. The irony was not lost on her. The fact of the matter was, her chosen career had driven a wedge between them from the moment she had signed on the dotted line all those years ago.
    It hadn’t always been like that.
    Ed Daniels was an affectionate, hard-working man with a great sense of humour. At least, he used to be, until the miners’ strike put him out of work and closed his pit. They had been close
back then. But years later, when she left school with above-average grades and a burning ambition to join the police force, he saw her career choice as a personal betrayal and from there on things
began to slide downhill.
    Her mother’s premature death hadn’t helped.
    Daniels sighed.
    Her father had a strong moral code. He’d encouraged her always to do the right thing, taught her the importance of devotion and commitment, nurtured those qualities as she grew up.
He’d given her the foundation Bright had later used to mould her into the impressive officer she was.
    Ellen was back with her coat on, a pot of tea and two mugs.
    Bright watched her set it down. ‘You’re a darling, you know that?’
    ‘And you’re a sexist pig!’ Ellen left the room without another word.
    Daniels laughed out loud. ‘Looks like you met your match, guv.’
    She meant it too. Ellen Crawford was just the sort of woman to put Bright back in his box. He was a great bloke, an excellent mentor, but a law unto himself. He was often overbearing and
occasionally downright rude to his staff. Her included. Ellen had nailed him the minute she set eyes on him. They were made for each other.
    ‘How well do you know Adam Finch?’ she asked.
    ‘He’s a mate. We play golf together now and again. Why?’
    Daniels met his eyes over the rim of her mug.
    ‘Remind me, guv. How did you say you met him?’
    ‘I didn’t.’ Bright opened his desk drawer and pulled out a packet of his favourite biscuits. He offered her one, but she waved it away.
    ‘Well, now I’m asking. How
did
you meet?’
    ‘You’re barking up the wrong tree, Kate.’
    ‘Humour me.’
    ‘He was my commanding officer in the army.’
    ‘What regiment?’
    Bright took a bite of his garibaldi. ‘Army Air Corps.’
    ‘You
are
kidding?’

17
    T he restaurant was candlelit, an intimate space done out in a rich wine colour that made it feel warm and cosy beneath an open beamed ceiling. Daniels wished she’d made
more of an effort to dress for the occasion. But she didn’t intend to stop long. She was there under sufferance and was keen to get back to High Shaw where she planned to spend the night. It
was closer to home and she could get an early start in the morning.
    Her father was sitting directly opposite, smart as a pin in a navy suit with a waistcoat, a spotted tie and pocket handkerchief to match. In many ways he reminded her of Bright. In fact, the
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