Page 81 of Return Ticket

It trembled in her own, and she felt a wave of relief that he was still alive.

James crouched on Teddy Roe’s other side, moving his jacket off his chest to check for injuries, and feeling his pulse.

Then he looked up at the car, and the headlamps illuminated his face. It glittered in the light as the tiny droplets of mist that clung to his stubble reflected the glow.

He looked like a Viking, about to go to war, or the archer he was named after, standing, bow drawn, on the battlefield.

Whatever had been keeping the person in the car, they suddenly scrambled out.

“I didn’t see him,” the man blurted.

That was probably true. It was very difficult to see, but Gabriella was inclined to dislike him because he’d hit Teddy Roe and then stayed in the car.

If they hadn’t been here, would he have driven around the body and left?

It was difficult to make out the driver in the fog and darkness, and James rose to his feet, hand going into the inner pocket of his coat to produce his warrant card.

“DS Archer,” he said. “And you are?”

Teddy Roe groaned, and Gabriella brushed his hair off his face in a soothing motion.

“Can you tell me where it hurts?” she asked him.

“Gabriella?” He half-opened his eyes, and she realized, now she was so close to him, they were almost arctic blue. “Legs,” he said, then closed his eyes again and went limp.

James and the driver had gone quiet and turned to listen to her and Teddy Roe’s exchange, but as soon as Teddy Roe seemed to lose consciousness again, James turned back sharply.

“Name?”

“Colonel Johnson.” The driver snapped it out, irritated.

“Do you live nearby?” James asked.

“No. I was visiting a friend, and was on my way home,” Johnson said, almost affronted. “Why?”

“So my friend can get help by calling the ambulance,” James said. “That would be easier if you lived nearby.”

“Oh.” Johnson sounded chastened. “No, unfortunately not. And my friend doesn’t have a telephone.”

It could be true, but Gabriella was more inclined to believe he was lying because he didn’t want them going to his friend’s house—either out of embarrassment, or because he was uncomfortable with his friend’s name going into any official report.

“I’ll go to this one here,” she said, pointing to a house right opposite them. “The lights are on, so someone’s home.”

James nodded, and she gently untangled her fingers from Teddy Roe’s and ran.

chapterthirty-two

Gabriella disappeared into the fog,but James could hear her running up the path and knocking on the door.

“What’s a Met detective doing walking around on a night like this?” Johnson asked, in a jocular way that made James think he was trying to get chummy.

“I was taking my girl home when the road was blocked by an accident further down the road,” James said. “It was either walk or wait for the road to be cleared.”

“Right.” Johnson rocked back on his heels. “Down toward the high street?” he asked.

“Yes. And the high street’s blocked, too. Either an accident or just very slow traffic.”

“God, what a mess.” Johnson glanced at where Gabriella had disappeared then studied Teddy Roe, prone at his feet. “She knows this tramp, does she? Your girl?”