An awkward silence fell between them.
Chris let out a heavy breath, breaking the icey chill. “I better get going. It was nice to meet you.” He opened the door and got out of the car.
Madeline bit back the urge to ask more about him. Her eyes didn’t move from his well-built physique, which was only emphasised by his Nike track suit.
What's the point in getting to know him, he probably has a girlfriend?
She removed the thought from her mind as quickly as it came. Instead, she watched him throw his hoodie up, and move the seat, so his dog could jump out the back.
Glancing over her shoulder, she inspected the seat, and relief set in.
Thank goodness there’s no mud.
“Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Madeline.”
“You too, thanks again.”
Chris closed the door and jogged across the road. His dog trotted behind him.
Madeline followed them with her gaze until they disappeared from sight. She then put the car into gear and headed home.
Once she arrived at her flat, Madeline opened the blinds to allow the view of Amsterdam’s night sky to flood in.
She stood by the view of the city, and finally, she allowed herself to relax after this afternoon's drama.
The sky was lit up with lights as far back as she could see, across the dusk skyline.
A view so different to what she used to see back in London. The memories brought on a flood of tears.
She snapped her eyes shut, as if to block out the vivid details of her home. Her escape to Amsterdam brought her to a new place in life, emotionally, and a new job. In some ways, it had allowed her to rebuild her life. That said, her first three months hadn’t been easy. Her Dutch wasn’t perfect by any means—even with the frequent lessons paid for by work. And then there was her social circle, which remained almost non-existent.
Moving from the window, she turned to face the living room.
The small one bedroom flat located on the top floor of a three-storey building, needed a lot of work. The plumbing for one. The kitchen tap leaked, and the water pressure from the shower was low. But it was home, for now. And it was she could afford on a modest salary.
Glancing around, it felt as if the walls were closing in around her.
Her ex—Stan—crashed her thoughts. His voice mocked her in her mind's eye.
Hugging her arms around her body, Madeline paced the cool, tiled floor.
The urge to take a shower and wash away the memories of him overwhelmed her.
It was one bad break-up. We all have them! Get a grip, Maddie, she scolded herself on the way to the bathroom.
Madeline stripped naked and ran the water. The pipes jumped to life and coughed out a trickle of water.
She rolled her eyes. “I need a plumber. This is ridiculous.”
The water dripped slowly from the limescale invested shower head. As the temperature rose, steam fanned around the bathroom. This caused Madeline's claustrophobic anxiety to increase tenfold.
In the mirror, she took in the woman she had become.
At five-foot-five, with a slim, but curvy build, and milk chocolate skin, to an outsider, one would have assumed she had the world at her feet—that she was stress free.
Truth be told, she felt anything but. Her heart was broken, and her career no longer excited her.
She exhaled a deep breath, then tied her curly hair up on top of her head.
With a heavy heart, she pulled back the mouldy shower curtain and stepped under the water, resisting the urge to sob.
2
One Woman Down
Detective Janssen
Across Amsterdam, and under the the early evening light, Janssen kept a keen lookout.
“Janssen,” the voice spoke in her left ear. “You in position?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Detective Janssen moved her gaze over the canal. The water was still, and the multicoloured boats were stationed on the river. The muddy water appeared to be pitch black, now the sun had long departed, and the moon shone over the city.
As Janssen stood by the lamp post along the canal, the trees that lined Amsterdam’s pebbled street rustled in the wind. She flipped the collar of her coat to shield her from the bitter weather.
Discreetly, she tapped her ear to turn up the volume, and drown out the partygoers around her. She listened to her team go over the strategy she had given them and nodded to herself in agreement. They were clear on how things would play out tonight.
She shifted her gaze up and down the street and took in the busy footfall of tourists and locals. They weaved in an out of her view as she looked out for the suspect.
It was cold, damp, and she hated going undercover in the seedy area of the city. But it was necessary for the case she was closing in on.
She moved the synthetic hair of the wig across her cheek slightly. “Yeah, I’m over by the canal. Everyone get into position,” she demanded.
“Yes ma’am,” her team of men chimed in in unison.
As much as she hated the habit, she pulled out a smoke, lit it, then filled her lungs with nicotine. For years, she’d been trying to quit.
“Roger, I’m inside now,” one of her officers confirmed.
She smirked and pulled on her cigarette. “Good, everyone ready?”
“Roger,” her team responded.
“Okay. I’m in front of the bar,” she said.
“Roger, got ya,” her partner’s voice said into her ear.
“Where are you?” She asked and glanced around through the crowd passing by.
A loud group of boys walked past her, obscuring her view. The smell of cannabis wafted from the young men. With the relaxed laws on the drug in the city, all she could do was shake her head. She wanted to reprimand them for smoking in the street, but she had bigger crimes to focus on.
“I’m coming your way now,” Detective Logan Gibson said into her ear. “You wanna head
