PHOTO PROMPT © Jan Wayne Fields
‘How long had Danny lived at the campsite, Mrs Brindley?’
Angie waited patiently for the answer – she was used to waiting. Waited for Sara Brindley to pull a tissue from her sleeve, wipe a drip from her nose.
‘Since he ran away from home just after his fourteenth birthday. Three months.’
The scene of crime photographs were tucked inside the file under Angie’s arm, well hidden. No parent needed to see that.
Angie’s son Ben was at home, probably asleep already, Teddy tucked under his chin.
She reached across the table and squeezed Sara’s hand.