Frankie Read Online Free Page B

for her. She silently gave thanks that the clothes she was wearing – the only ones she had – were black.
    Frankie stayed hidden for a couple of minutes after the police officers had passed before gingerly walking back out to the main road. Chelsea Bridge was illuminated in front of her, but the snow was falling more heavily now and she couldn’t see the other side. She stood watching as people occasionally appeared like ghosts out of the blizzard – couples, mostly, on their way home from an evening out, huddled together as they walked to protect themselves from the elements.
    She let them pass. There was no way she could take on two people. Not in her state. Come to think of it, she didn’t know if she could take on a single person – she had never done this before.
    A thin layer of snow had settled on her clothes before a suitable candidate appeared. She could just make her out, standing on her own halfway across the bridge. She was not well dressed for the weather: a sensible jacket and skirt, with just a checked scarf to keep out the cold.Her handbag was slung over her shoulder, and she was stamping her feet on the ground, trying to keep herself warm as she looked around as if waiting to meet someone.
    Frankie strode up to her and walked past, peering through the snow to the other side of the bridge to check that nobody was coming. It was difficult to see, but the coast seemed clear. She doubled back. The woman was looking the other way, so she quietly approached her from behind and grabbed the handbag.
    The woman slipped, fell with a scream and landed on her back. Her handbag was still hooked to her arm, so Frankie knelt down and tugged it hard, breaking the strap. As she pulled, the woman’s scarf unfurled slightly, and Frankie noticed she was wearing a necklace. She grabbed the chain and yanked it off, pulling the scarf with it. Her victim cried in pain as the metal bit into her neck, but by that time Frankie was already standing up. She barely looked at the chunky silver locket at the end of the chain before stuffing it into the pocket of her jeans. It might be worth something to someone.
    Suddenly she saw figures running towards her from the north side of the bridge. Shit, she thought. I’ve taken too long. Clutching the handbag and the scarf, she turned and ran. Have-a-go heroes – was there one or two? Or maybe more? She didn’t know how the hell they had seen what she’d done – they hadn’t been in sight when she grabbed the bag – but she didn’t have time to worry about it. They were bearing down on her. She just had to get away.
    Manslaughter and assault: the police would have a field day with her if she was caught.
    As if summoned by that thought, she heard the familiarsound of sirens, and looking over her shoulder she could make out the telltale blue glow somewhere on the other side of the bridge. There were two options: run across the road and scale the railings over into Battersea Park, or try to lose herself back under the arches.
    It was a split-second decision. Battersea Park would be too exposed – there was nowhere to hide – and the railings were sharp; so she would have to take her chances under the arches. She ran with all her strength and turned back into the side street.
    She heard footsteps running behind her. A voice shouted ‘Stop!’ as Frankie disappeared once more into the shadows, her eyes welling up with tears of panic.

Chapter Two
    Working late wasn’t something that was high on Detective Inspector Mark Taylor’s agenda. Nor, for that matter, was paperwork. But it never seemed to get done during the day, so tonight was going to be a late one whether he liked it or not. He took a gulp of tea from a brightly coloured mug – a Christmas present from his daughter three years ago – then pulled a face when he realized it was stone cold. Perhaps he should go and find himself a fresh cup. Then again, maybe he should just push on through. The sooner he got all this crap