Tony Hill u Carol Jordan 08 - Cross and Burn

complex case. There was something about walking that freed up his mental processes to consider options other than the obvious.
    So, he was familiar with the basin. Yet he’d never wondered what it would be like to live on the water in the heart of the city until it was all that was left to him. His former house in Bradfield was gone, sold to strangers when he thought he’d finally found a place he could with conviction call home. And now that was gone too, a burned-out shell that was an uncomfortable metaphor for what had happened to the life he’d imagined he could lead there. Everywhere he looked, bloody metaphors galore.
    Tony crossed the cobbled area that separated the tapas bar from the houseboat moorings and swung aboard a pretty narrowboat whose name, Steeler , unfurled on a painted gold-and-black ribbon across the stern. He unfastened the heavy padlocks that held the hatch closed and clattered down the steep steps to the cabin below. As he passed, he threw the switches that activated the boat’s electricity supply, generated by an array of solar panels. Even gloomy Bradfield skies provided enough energy for one person whose power needs were far from extravagant.
    He’d been surprised by how readily he’d adapted to living in so confined a space. Life with a place for everything and everything in its place had proved unexpectedly soothing. There was no room for anything inessential; living like this had stripped his material life down to the bone, forcing him to reconsider the worth of stuff that had cluttered his life for years. OK, he didn’t love the practical necessities like emptying the toilet tank and topping up the water reservoir. Nor was he entirely at ease with the camaraderie of the water, a connectivity that seemed to draw together the most unlikely combinations of people. And he still hadn’t mastered the heating system. Now the nights were getting colder, he was growing fed up with waking in a freezing cabin. He was going to have to settle for the action of last resort – sitting down with the manual and actually reading the instructions. But in spite of all the inconveniences, he had grown comfortable in this calm, contained world.
    He dumped his bag on the buttoned leather banquette that ran along the saloon bulkhead and put the kettle on for a cafètiere of coffee. While he waited for the water to boil, he booted up his laptop and checked his email. The only new message was from a cop for whom he’d profiled a serial rapist a few years before. Half-hoping it was an invitation to work with him again, he opened it.

Hi Tony. How are you doing? I heard about the business with Jacko Vance. Terrible thing, but without your input it could have been so much worse.
The reason I’m writing is because we’re organising a conference to promote the use of offender profiling in high-visibility cases. Not just murders, but other serious offences too. It’s getting harder to persuade top brass and police authorities that it’s cost-effective in these times of austerity all round. We’re trying to make the case that it’s a front-end expense that saves a lot of back-end costs. I thought Carol Jordan would be the perfect keynote speaker, given how closely she’s worked with you over the years. But I’m having some difficulty tracking her down. BMP tell me she’s no longer on their books. They informed me she was transferring to West Mercia. But they say she’s not on their strength. I tried the email address I had for her, but it bounced back at me. And the mobile number I had for her isn’t working any more. I wondered if maybe she was deep undercover, but either way I reckoned you’d know where I can get in touch with her.
Can you give me some contact details? Or if that’s not practical, can you at least ask her to get in touch with me?
Thanks in advance,
Rollo Harris,
Detective Chief Superintendent,
Devon & Cornwall Police

    Tony stared at the screen, the words blurring. Rollo Harris wasn’t the only one who didn’t know where Carol Jordan was, or how to get in touch with her. Most people who knew them both would have struggled to believe it, but Tony hadn’t spoken to Carol for the best part of three months. And he wouldn’t have known where to find her if he’d felt able to break that silence. The last thing she’d said to him after the hunt for Vance was done was, ‘It’s not all that’s over, Tony.’ And it appeared she’d meant it. She’d cut herself loose from his