The chilly winter day breaks as the cold fog slowly dissipates.
In his hands, he fiddles with a silver lighter, and with a flick of his fingertips, an occasional flame quivers to life, illuminates his face, and is then extinguished by the cold wind. All around is silent, the only sound is the frantic beating of her heart in her ears.
Had he come early in the morning, or...
Had he arrived the night before, enduring the whole night?
Tim Payne stands still, watching her approach slowly.
"Morning," his voice is both low and magnetic.
"Good morning," Cressida Jones stands against the wind, her face aching from the cold air cutting like a knife.
"Are you heading to the shop?"
"I need to pick up some stock at the flower market first."
"I'll take you."
As they spoke, Tim Payne had already opened the car door for her. As she got in, Assistant Law, who was originally asleep, suddenly woke up, rubbed his eyes, and greeted her.
Only then was Cressida Jones certain:
