Without Conscience by Michael Kerr

Author:Michael Kerr [Kerr, Michael]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-30T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Don’t forget to pick up milk and a paper on your way back, darlin’,” Charlie Spencer said as Tina left the bedroom, dressed in sweats.

“Have the tea brewed. I’ll be back in about forty-five minutes,” she said, before walking down the landing to look in on Samantha. It still amazed her how peaceful and serene Sam could look, when asleep. Within an hour the three-year-old would be up, and the house would be filled with her laughter and noisy exuberance for life, that neither herself nor Charlie could now imagine being without. Bending, she kissed her ‘little miracle’s’ forehead. Sam had been born after Tina had miscarried twice. And not a second passed that she and Charlie didn’t appreciate the gift of their daughter.

This was Tina’s window of opportunity, to fine-tune herself for another hectic day at the local Jobcentre, where she was in the front line, engaged in verbal battle with irate claimants who were not impressed with any explanation that did not result in being awarded some form of allowance or benefit. Running next to the river at dawn was her way of fortifying herself to meet whatever problems and challenges she would no doubt encounter. She had tried yoga and even painting, but both were too passive. She needed to move, to feel unfettered and free.

Descending the narrow flight of stone steps at the side of the road bridge, the light from houseboats with early risers on board painted the Thames in abstract, wavering brushstrokes of white and yellow that danced on the oily black surface. The air was sweet, cool, crisp and invigorating. It was as though the storm had gathered up the polluted air and carried it away, to no doubt dump out over the English Channel.

Flicking her auburn hair back out of her eyes, Tina sped up, increasing her heart rate and pushing herself, not content to jog sedately. There would be plenty of time to be pedestrian in two or three decades. At her age she could afford to extend herself and go for the burn.

Fuck a duck! She was moving like an express train. If she got past him, he would never catch up with her. She was racing like a gazelle with a lion on its tail. No sweat. He would wait and take her on the way back. She would be slower, maybe not spent, but with tiring muscles; easier to overcome.

He moved back behind the broad trunk of the tree he had been leaning against, only ten feet from the path.

A sudden chill flash-froze Tina’s spine, to encircle her neck with cold fingers of fear. She looked back, but the path was clear. To her right was the river, to the left, a fifty-yard stretch of mature trees that stood like sentinels in the watery predawn moonlight. She was not given to premonitions, but shivered and was almost overcome by a sense of impending danger. If a figure had appeared from the gloom, she would not have been surprised.

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