"Why bring this to me?" She shook her head, indicating she didn't know. "Have you any idea what it means?"
"I'm sorry, I've no idea. I was hoping you might be able to tell me." She looked at him expectantly but he had to disappoint her. It had him stumped. "I found it at my place over the weekend. I was out with friends and I'd forgotten we were supposed to hang out. He must have waited for me, for a while. We have keys to each other's houses so we can come and go as we like."
"You're close?"
"Yes, very. I found the note when I got in the next day. I was going to ask him about it, but he didn't pick up when I called," she said, her eyes glazing over. "Now I know why."
Tom put the piece of paper down, running a hand across the side of his face and following through to the back of his neck. His stress headache was getting worse.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tom entered the ops room to find it empty. He was surprised. Not that he was running late, although his morning routine had proved sluggish, what with being on the boat for the first time in months. Those jobs he'd been putting off, fixing the drain on the shower, servicing the generator, were coming back to haunt him. Not only that, but because the battery packs had drained completely, and not been used, they appeared to not be holding their charge anymore. These issues were easily fixable, but problems he could do without. The cold shower certainly woke him up.
His night's sleep had been better than in recent days, though. Why that might be he had considered on the drive into the station. Logic would dictate he should have had yet another restless night, what with the previous day's events. Perhaps the certainty that came with having to leave Alice's offered him a break from the stress of thinking about it all. Or possibly, which was more likely, the visit from Adrian Gage's sister had distracted him enough for the fatigue to take over. Either way, his state of mind was broadly calm as long as he didn't think too much about it.
Taking the piece of paper from his pocket, folded safely in a plastic evidence bag, he hung up his coat and walked over to the boards on the wall, casting an eye over the Gage case. He'd hoped to hand the note Adrian left for him over to either Cassie or Tamara first thing but there was no sign of them.
"Morning Tom."
He turned to see Eric entering and smiled. "Morning Eric." The constable's computer was the only one up and running, so he must have ducked out for a moment. "Does Becca turf you out early every day?"
Eric smiled. To all intents and purposes, he had moved out of his mother's house and in with his girlfriend a few months ago. Eric was predominantly a happy soul, naturally prone to a smile rather than a frown. Since moving in with his partner, he'd only grown in confidence.
"Something like that. Becca likes to get to the school early, especially this year since they gave her, her own class." Becca had been working as a teaching assistant at a local primary school whilst working towards her own qualifications as a teacher. She'd completed her studies. "All of which means if I want a decent shower and to get myself ready, and be on time for work, then I need to get up before her."
Tom inwardly grinned. Eric was very much a twenty-something for the modern age. He was always well presented, more so than just seeking a professional appearance, looking like a catalogue model and not one from an average high-street department store either. Eric wore branded clothes, not in a way to show off, for that wasn't his motivation at all, but he took pride in his appearance and having met Becca a few times, they were well suited. Tom often wondered if it was a love of fashion for Eric, but he thought not. The young detective had a boyish outward appearance and was quick with a smile or a joke. He wasn't overly tall, but powerfully built, with a smooth unblemished complexion. This youthful look, and the enthusiastic approach to life, made him seem younger than he was and it was this that Tom thought might motivate him to dress as he did, in order to reinforce his maturity.
Recently Eric had tried to grow a beard, and failed, which added weight to Tom's theory. Eric wanted to be taken seriously, not necessarily by his colleagues, because he was highly regarded, but by the public at large. In Tom's opinion, he needn't worry.
"Have you seen either Cassie or Tamara this morning?"
Eric shook his head. "No, not yet. I don't know where they are. Maybe they're running something down first thing," Eric said, glancing around. "Do you want me to call one of them and find out?"
"No, don't worry," he said, slipping the folded bag into his trouser pocket. "It can wait until they come in."
"Right you are," Eric said. "Listen, I had a thought after we spoke with Daniel Crowe yesterday." Tom perched himself on the edge of a desk, folding his arms and encouraging him to continue. "We're trying to figure out if Crowe, or anyone else for that matter, stood to gain from Mary Beckett's death, right? To that end, I looked into Beckett's action group to see how successful they've been in trying to block the development of the wind farm."
"The switching station," Tom said, correcting him. As far as he understood, it wasn't the wind farm itself that had problems.
"Yes, of course. I looked up the company which has acquired the licence to develop the project. They
