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Back Broken Hearts Save as PDF
Chapters (79)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Prologue
  5. PART ONEEdinburgh November 2008
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Chapter Seven
  13. Chapter Eight
  14. Chapter Nine
  15. Chapter Ten
  16. Chapter Eleven
  17. Chapter Twelve
  18. Chapter Thirteen
  19. Chapter Fourteen
  20. Chapter Fifteen
  21. Chapter Sixteen
  22. Chapter Seventeen
  23. PART TWOLondon November 1988
  24. Chapter Eighteen
  25. Chapter Nineteen
  26. Chapter Twenty
  27. Chapter Twenty-One
  28. Chapter Twenty-Two
  29. Chapter Twenty-Three
  30. Chapter Twenty-Four
  31. Chapter Twenty-Five
  32. Chapter Twenty-Six
  33. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  34. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  35. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  36. Chapter Thirty
  37. Chapter Thirty-One
  38. Chapter Thirty-Two
  39. Chapter Thirty-Three
  40. Chapter Thirty-Four
  41. Chapter Thirty-Five
  42. PART THREEEdinburgh November 2008
  43. Chapter Thirty-Six
  44. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  45. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  46. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  47. Chapter Forty
  48. Chapter Forty-One
  49. Chapter Forty-Two
  50. Chapter Forty-Three
  51. Chapter Forty-Four
  52. Chapter Forty-Five
  53. Chapter Forty-Six
  54. Chapter Forty-Seven
  55. Chapter Forty-Eight
  56. Chapter Forty-Nine
  57. Chapter Fifty
  58. Chapter Fifty-One
  59. Chapter Fifty-Two
  60. Chapter Fifty-Three
  61. Chapter Fifty-Four
  62. Chapter Fifty-Five
  63. Chapter Fifty-Six
  64. Chapter Fifty-Seven
  65. Chapter Fifty-Eight
  66. Chapter Fifty-Nine
  67. Chapter Sixty
  68. Chapter Sixty-One
  69. Chapter Sixty-Two
  70. Chapter Sixty-Three
  71. Chapter Sixty-Four
  72. Chapter Sixty-Five
  73. Chapter Sixty-Six
  74. Chapter Sixty-Seven
  75. Epilogue
  76. Acknowledgements
  77. About the Author
  78. By the Same Author
  79. About the Publisher

‘I’ll do whatever it takes,’ she replied.

Chapter Seventeen

The police canteen at St Leonards was packed. Scotland was playing in the World Cup qualifiers, and the officers on duty were trying to catch the start of the match. The volume was on full and the tail-end of the six thirty news was still on. DI Duncan Bancho tried to find a quiet corner to sit in; he pushed his fork around the stodgy plate of macaroni cheese and squeezed tomato sauce on his side order of chips. His eyes glanced up at the TV screen. The new English Lord Chancellor was being interviewed on the government’s policy on crime. Lord Edward Hunter promised tougher sentences for offenders–Bancho wasn’t naive enough to actually believe it. He stabbed a particularly large chip with his fork and rammed it in his mouth as a shadow fell over his plate. He looked up. A woman was blocking his view of the telly–he hoped she’d bloody move before the start of the match or the end of his chips.

‘Detective Inspector Duncan Bancho?’ she asked.

‘Depends who wants to know?’ He craned his neck, trying to see past her, to check if the match had started.

‘I did try to call–a few times. They said they’d put a call out for you? Detective Inspector Sam Jones. I’m with the Met.’ She fumbled into her inside pocket and pulled out her badge, handing it to him. He took it and looked at it with interest, folding the badge over before handing it back.

‘May I sit down?’ she asked.

‘Not there…come round here.’ He patted the seat beside him and she sat down, affording him a clear view of the TV. The screen was showing the terraces and the Tartan Army was in full voice. He shook his head. Whoever had decided that the tartan caps with sewn-in ginger wigs was a good look must have been off their heads. He shuddered and turned his attention back to his plate. ‘Care for a chip, Sam?’ he asked.

She looked at the wilting potato covered in tomato sauce. ‘No thanks, I’ll pass–but I’d love a cup of coffee…black, no sugar.’