Free The Final Minute by Simon Kernick Page A

Donaldson now. ‘They used the photo you gave me of Lauren in it, and I’ve had a number of calls from people claiming to know her, so I’m following up on those.’ As it happened, Tina had received far fewer calls than she’d have liked, and most of the callers had either been or sounded like cranks. But one had stood out. A young woman called Sheryl had left a message for Tina earlier that morning saying she’d been a friend of Lauren and had information that might be of help. So far Tina hadn’t managed to track her down, but at least she represented a possibility. ‘I can prepare a full progress report if you like,’ she continued.
    He managed a smile. ‘It’s fine. I trust you.’
    ‘You didn’t have to come in, you know. I know it’s a bit of a journey for you.’
    ‘I prefer to do business face to face. Would you mind if we scheduled another meeting for next week, in case you haven’t had any news by then?’
    Tina nodded, knowing it would make him feel better. ‘Of course.’ She put it in the diary and walked with him to the door.
    He paused with the door open and looked at her with an expression that looked a lot like sympathy. ‘You know, I’ve had a lot of regrets in my life,’ he said. ‘There are so many things I’d have done differently. But – and forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn on this – if there’s one piece of advice I could impart, it’s live your life as you want to, take the opportunities when you see them. Don’t wait for life to come to you.’
    ‘Don’t worry, I have lived the life I wanted to,’ she said, knowing she was lying. ‘I’ll keep you posted about progress.’
    They shook hands and she watched as he walked down the road in the direction of Paddington Station, his gait slow and painful.
    Once upon a time he’d been a man with hopes and dreams, but circumstances and age had brought him down, and Tina wondered if she too would end up like that. It was obvious he’d seen the sadness that dwelt in her. Either he was very observant or she needed to learn to hide it better.
    She dismissed the thought and lit a cigarette, staring out across the street towards the railway lines and the A40 flyover, with the high-rise blocks of the Warwick Estate looming up behind them. It wasn’t an inspiring view. Nothing about her office was particularly inspiring. It was a cramped room on the ground floor of a decaying pre-war terrace in Bayswater about half a mile west of Paddington Station, but it had the advantage of having parking round the back, and it was central. She lived a good forty minutes’ drive away on a good day, in a village just inside the M25 near Potters Bar, and in truth she could easily have worked from home. But, for Tina, home was her sanctuary, a place where she shut out the world, and all the darkness within it, and she had no desire to sully her personal space with the work she did. So this arrangement was the next best thing.
    She could hear her office phone ringing. She thought about letting it go but knew she couldn’t turn down work. So, taking a last drag on the cigarette, she stubbed it in the outside ashtray the building’s smokers had clubbed together to buy, then walked back inside.
    ‘Is that Tina Boyd?’ asked a man’s voice when she picked up.
    ‘Speaking.’
    There was a long pause, and Tina wondered if it was another crank caller.
    ‘My name’s Matt Barron, and I need you to help me find a killer.’
    ‘You need the police for that, Mr Barron.’
    ‘They’re not going to believe my story.’
    ‘Then talk to a lawyer.’
    ‘That’s not going to work either. Listen, I know how this sounds—’
    ‘Good. Because it sounds like you’re wasting my time.’
    ‘I’m not, I promise. But it’s a long story, and it’s one I’d rather tell in person.’
    Tina sighed. She could easily have said no. And for a long time afterwards she wished she had. But in that moment she was intrigued because maybe she hadn’t changed