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Authors: Clare Revell

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Friday's Child

BOOK: Friday's Child
13.16Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Table of Contents

Title Page



Praise for Clare Revell

Other titles by Clare Revell


































I take my refuge in the shadow of my God

Thank you

Friday’s Child



Clare Revell



This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.


Friday’s Child


COPYRIGHT 2013 by Clare Revell


All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or Pelican Ventures, LLC except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.


eBook editions are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. eBooks may not be re-sold, copied or given to other people. If you would like to share an eBook edition, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.


Contact Information: [email protected]


All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version
Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.


Cover Art by Nicola Martinez


White Rose Publishing, a division of Pelican Ventures, LLC
PO Box 1738 *Aztec, NM * 87410


White Rose Publishing Circle and Rosebud logo is a trademark of Pelican Ventures, LLC


Publishing History

First White Rose Edition, 2013

Paperback Edition ISBN 978-1-61116-279-0

Electronic Edition ISBN 978-1-61116-278-3

Published in the United States of America



For Rhys.



With grateful thanks to Fiona.


Praise for Clare Revell



The blend of romance and suspense is superb, and the depth of emotion is so very touching. I am eagerly looking forward to the rest of the books in this series. Clare Revell is truly a master novelist. What a treat! I highly recommend
Monday’s Child
to anyone looking for a GREAT story. ~ Mary Manners


Times Arrow

I stand in awe of Revell’s ability to pack an entire novel’s worth of action and emotion into so few pages. ~ Delia Latham, author


Tuesday's Child

Clare Revell...puts the EEP in creepy! TUESDAY'S CHILD has it all—deaf heroine, cop hero, orphaned child, and terrifying killer. This book kept me reading late into the night (with the doors locked and the brightest light on!). B. Norris


Other titles by Clare Revell



Season For Miracles

Saving Christmas

Cassie’s Wedding Dress

Time’s Arrow

Kisses From Heaven

After The Fire

An Aussie Christmas Angel

Monday’s Child

Tuesday’s Child

Wednesday’s Child

Thursday’s Child




Pi - Patrick’s nickname, pronounced Pie. Hence his other nickname of Agent 3.14 after the math term


Li - pronounced Lie - Liam’s nickname


Ni - pronounced Nigh - Niamh’s nickname


Niamh - pronounced Neeve


Spook - an MI5 agent


Siobhan - pronounced Cher-vaughn


Resus - This is the large critical care room in the ED in which all patients with life-threatening injuries are taken. It gives the doctors and nurses more room to stabilize and treat patients before transferring them to surgery or ICU.


ED - Emergency Department. Also known as A&E or casualty or the ER


CO19/ARU - the armed response unit. The only armed police officers in the UK


CPS - Crown Prosecution Service. The British equivalent of the DA.





Monday’s Child must hide for protection,

Tuesday’s Child tenders direction

Wednesday’s Child grieves for his soul

Thursday’s Child chases the whole

Friday’s Child is a man obsessed

Saturday’s Child might be possessed

And Sunday’s Child on life’s seas is tossed

Awaiting the Lifeboat that rescues the lost







Friday’s child is a man obsessed…


If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing. ~
1 Corinthians 13:1-3


“You really agreed to a drop here?” His partner asked.

Agent Patrick Page, MI5, nodded and looked up at the library, certain he was insane. Either that or he was going soft in his old age, letting informants insist on a dead drop location somewhere as public and quiet as this. Recently extended, the library was an interesting mixture of two modern A-frame wings of brown timber and huge panes of glass, with the original Tudor style wattle and daub central part sandwiched between. Colored posters lined the windows and an enticing display of books peeked between them.

It’s not insanity, it’s middle age,
the small voice within him insisted.

Thirty-seven is not old, no matter what
want to think.

Great, now he was arguing with himself.

Niamh, his sister, had summed it up last night over dinner. “You just work too hard. All work and no play have made Patrick a dull man. A man obsessed, with no time for anything, fun or otherwise.” He’d tried brushing the comment off, but she hadn’t let it drop. “You need to get out more, Pi. Do something other than work for once. Don’t do what I did, because it ruins your life.”

“Earth to Patrick?”

Patrick still stared at the library, through the pouring rain. He didn’t have time for fun. Not with his heavy case load. And not with this twisted case he was currently embroiled in. The tip off had come from Scotland, from an American of all people. He still couldn’t get his head around why an American cop would be working for the Scottish police, although he hadn’t had time to exchange pleasantries with the Lieutenant.

Detective Inspector
he corrected, as the guy had recently been promoted to an equivalent UK rank. Which was even more of a puzzle. One that could wait for a better time. Right now, he had work to do.

“Patrick, are you all right?” Shay Williams, his partner of five years, sounded concerned this time.

He shifted his gaze to her. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Then how about answering me rather than staring into space. You’re letting this case get to you, aren’t you?”

“No more so than usual.”

Why had his contact, known only by his street name of Skinhead, given the library as the location for the drop? More to the point, why had he agreed? Accessibility? Hardly, given the library’s odd opening hours. An urge to read? Again, not likely either for him or his contact. No, for Patrick, it was his desire to catch this guy and make the charges stick this time. And while odd, he could go in and out of a library frequently without arousing suspicion.

He checked his watch. It was time he actually did what he was paid for, rather than just sit here. Rain pounded against the car windshield. Even the wiper blades on super-fast made little impact on the downpour. Patrick pulled his collar up against the power of the elements and jumped out of the car. He opened the back door and leaned in to grab the pile of books.

Raising an eyebrow at his blonde partner in the driver’s seat, he shot her a mock look of imposition across the top of the seats. “I should make you take these back yourself, Agent 7x3,” he said, using her nickname. She hated it, but after insisting she was only twenty-one no matter how many birthdays she had, what did she expect? “After all, they’re your library books.”

Shay laughed at him. “But, it’s raining, Agent 3.14, and I know you’re too much of a gentleman to make a lady get out in the rain. Besides, it’s your drop, right? Your contact, your drop, so by default, your turn to get wet.”

Patrick scowled half-heartedly at her, teasing her back. “Pfft, woman. And there I was thinking we were partners. How wrong can I be? You can buy lunch for this.”

Shay rolled her eyes. “You stop for lunch? That will be a first. And it’d explain the rain.”

Not bothering to reply, he shut the door and hurried inside the building.

Working for British Intelligence, Patrick’s fast-paced life left him very little time for the niceties, like stopping for lunch, visiting the library, going out with family, getting to church or dating. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw a woman socially that didn’t involve undercover work either with Shay or an informant. Or the last time he made an entire church service without his pager going off.

He headed to the ‘in desk’ and stood in the queue. Glancing around, Patrick took in the huge windows, and walls lined with shelves of books. He hadn’t been in a library in years, but the smell never changed.

The queue moved forwards and he placed the books on the counter, giving the librarian his best smile. “Hi. I’m returning these for a friend.”

The librarian scanned them and nodded. “All done. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He paused, looking over the leaflets of things to do in the local area. He picked one up, taking his time over reading it, ignoring the queue behind him. Then he walked past the nondescript envelope on the edge of the desk and pocketed it in one swift action along with the leaflet, then stopped.

“Could you point me in the direction of the religious section, please?” While here, he might as well see if they had that book Liam recommended. Shay wouldn’t begrudge him a few minutes. After all, he’d done her a favor

She nodded. “Around that way, then to the right.”

He smiled. “Thank you.” He headed off in the direction she pointed. Liam had raved about this book for the past month. Either he found a copy here or he borrowed Liam’s one.
He ran his fingers along the books until he found the one he wanted. He pulled it off the shelf and turned around.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He looked at the woman he’d walked into and stopped short.

If it wasn’t her, it was someone who looked just like her and was just as beautiful as she had been when he last saw her—even though the tweed suit she wore gave her a dowdy appearance with its long skirt and boxy style. With her brown hair pulled back into a severe bun and glasses perched on her nose, she was the epitome of a stereotypical librarian.

Warmth flooded him and a hard bolt traveled through his stomach leaving it in knots. He forced his voice to work past the huge lump in his throat, and held out a hand to her. “Elle? Eleanor Harrison?”

Her brown eyes widened with shock and recognition. “Patrick.” Her fingers whitened against the pile of books in her hand, and she made no attempt to take his hand in return. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m borrowing a book.” He dropped his hand and smiled, ignoring the shaft of disappointment. “What did you expect in a library?”

“No, I mean, here in Headley Cross.”

“I live and work here. Always have.” His phone beeped. “Excuse me. I should get this.” He pulled the handset out of his pocket and checked the screen.
Bother. Just when I could do with a few minutes.
“I have to go. Can we meet up for coffee or something? Catch up on the past few years?”

Elle shook her head, backing away. “It’s best to just leave the past alone. Bye.” She hurried off.

BOOK: Friday's Child
13.16Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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