Chapter Seventeen
RAFFERTY PULLED THE door of Mulcahy’s office to behind him with a gentle click. He wanted to whoop out loud, but restrained himself. Mulcahy had decided to do very little. Keen to hush up Rafferty’s folly, he had even opted to keep him in charge of the Lonely Hearts investigation.
‘It gives you an advantage,’ the pragmatic Mulcahy had told him. ‘It’s seldom we get one of those. Use it.’ He had even come down firmly against telling Bradley about their conversation.
Rafferty could scarcely believe his luck. He raised his eyes ceiling-ward and said a heartfelt, ‘Thank you, God.’
***
