Free Fire Damage (A Jessie Flynn Investigation, Book 1) by Kate Medina

like. And he has been in the Army long enough to have learnt self-control in the face of extreme provocation.’ She looked up. ‘Is there any history between them?’
    ‘Nothing formal. No disciplinary. Their commanding officer said that they got on fine. He also said that they were both based at TAAC-South, but weren’t working together at the time of Jackson’s death.’
    ‘What else did the commanding officer say?’
    Callan put the tips of his index finger and thumb together to form a circle, aping the gesture that Starkey had made.
    Jessie rolled her eyes. ‘Need to know.’
    ‘Right.’
    ‘Jesus. They’re certainly into protecting their own.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t think you’re going to get anything else out of Starkey. He clearly believes that he has too much to lose.’
    ‘So to move forward I need to find factual evidence.’
    ‘Yes. And if you find factual evidence, even if it’s not enough to charge Starkey, you can use it to put the thumbscrews on him. Force him to talk.’
    ‘What was that bit about “the truth will set you free”?’ The corners of his mouth twitched. ‘I didn’t know that you went to a convent school.’
    ‘There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, Callan.’
    Their eyes locked across his desk. Jessie felt colour rise in her cheeks. Glancing at her watch, an excuse to look away, she slid her chair back.
    ‘If there’s nothing more you need, I’m off. I said I’d have tea with Ahmose at six. I have some smoothing over to do after your insults regarding his gardening prowess.’
    Callan looked at his watch, too. ‘It’s only five. How about a—’ He broke off, seemed to be weighing up saying something, then changed his mind. ‘I’ll call you if I need anything else.’
    Leaning over the desk she shook his hand, the gesture feeling strangely over formal, but too late now to retract.
    ‘I’m not sure that there will be much more I can help you with.’
    He smiled, held her hand for a fraction of a second longer. ‘Perhaps. Perhaps not.’
    Jessie withdrew her hand. ‘Goodbye, Captain Callan.’
     
    It was dark outside, a strong wind gusting clouds over a sliver of moon. Provost Barracks’ car park was deserted. Lights on inside the building cast yellow rectangles on to the tarmac next to it, but beyond was only blackness. Jessie wished she’d parked closer to the main door, if only so that she wouldn’t trip over or sink into a freezing puddle in her blind trog to her car.
    Tugging her collar up around her neck, she dipped her head and crossed the tarmac at a jog. Pausing, she scanned the rows of cars ahead, found her Mini a couple further on from where she was standing, half the size of the other cars in the row, the only one that wasn’t black, white or silver. Its sunshine yellow paintwork made her smile.
    She was about to walk towards it when something caught her eye. Movement? Was there something moving by the car a couple down from hers? She stared hard through the darkness, continuing to walk, but slowly, relaxing as she walked. No, she’d been wrong. The car park was silent and deserted. She was alone.
    Reaching her Mini, she fished in her handbag for her car keys. Her fingers fumbled over object after object, none of them the keys. She should have got them out of her handbag inside the building where there was light.
    A sudden noise behind her. Pressing herself against the driver’s door, she twisted around. As before, dark rows of cars. No lights, nothing moving. The only noise, her own breathing, the sound harsh and leathery in the chill evening air. In the distance, she could see the gate and guardhouse. Lights on, but all the guards inside – who could blame them? She couldn’t find her keys – they weren’t in the compartment where she usually put them. Her fingers, numb with cold, filtered through the contents again – lipstick, wallet, hairbrush, a collection of coins for parking clanking around at the bottom of her bag –