28
Culverhouse struggled to regain his breath as he clambered into the taxi and put on his seatbelt.
His head was a mess. Half an hour earlier he’d been ready to board a flight to Alicante to see his daughter for the first time in nine years. A couple of hours before that he’d been sitting in the Chief Constable’s office. And now he was in the back of a cab, on his way back to Mildenheath CID, a broken and confused man.
He couldn’t make any sense of his thoughts. He’d had no choice: he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t. But he couldn’t help that overriding feeling of guilt, the realisation that he’d done it again. As always, the job had got in the way. And, as always, he’d sat back and succumbed to the job, letting Emily down yet again. This time, she wouldn’t even know it. H
