Chapter 6

April hated buses. There was something about being closely confined with other people she didn’t like. Maybe that was the police officer in her which saw members of the public as trouble because her whole working life had been responding to their needs. She much preferred the solitary quietness of her car to get from A to B, and she silently vowed that once this job was finished, she’d not use public transport again.

A bus passed by, going the other way, and she observed the miserable faces of those that were sat on it looking out of the windows.  Buses reminded her of a time in her life when she had nothing. Those days all she would dream about was making a better life.

She’d spent most of her childhood in care, and her greatest desire once she was old enough to realise there was a way out, was to become a police officer. It was that which saw her through the endless years of foster homes she and her beloved sister had been placed in.

Her sister was the complete opposite to her. Chloe spent most of her life being a victim in some form or another. Although they changed schools frequently, Chloe was always on the receiving end of someone who was determined to make her life hell. At college she was excluded from groups and it wasn’t long before she had left college, using the excuse she wanted to work rather than spend her time in the classroom.

Their young lives had been shaped to a certain extent by their drug addict mother who had injected herself once too often with dodgy heroine that eventually killed her, which meant for the two girls, years of being under the care of the local authority.

Since their mother had died, she’d become a surrogate mother to Chloe. It happened naturally as she’d been the much stronger and forceful of the two, which didn’t just stem from her being older by eighteen months; it was more that she was an achiever. Sadly, Chloe wasn’t.

They’d been fortunate with their final placement with foster carers who encouraged them both with academic work. But while she thrived on it, Chloe was miserable. Most of their early childhood, she’d managed to protect Chloe from the bullying, even though it became increasingly more difficult as they got to secondary school. She had been academically able, whereas Chloe struggled. As a consequence, they were segregated by ability and spent most of the time in different areas of the school which caused Chloe a lot of distress.

No-one would dare bully April Masters; they’d be too fearful of what they might get in return. Her whole persona had been one of toughness, which had pushed her in the direction of the police force at the age of eighteen. Following two years of police training, and the mandatory probationary period, she’d been told by her superiors she was an exceptional police officer, but she already knew that. Not once had she ever hidden behind a male officer. Initially, when she’d completed her police training, she was put on traffic duties, and during that period she booked more motorists for offences than any other officer. As she progressed in the force, she gained the respect of colleagues. April Masters was one to look up to. If there was a domestic violence call, she was the first in the house; if there was an attempted robbery at a late-night off-license; she was the first in the shop. Her career was about succeeding, and when she was on duty, the criminals needed to look out.  Failure wasn’t an option to her. She was dedicated and focussed, so she swiftly went through the ranks from police officer to sergeant, inspector and to detective inspector.

Eventually, the force offered her two options, either the Police Armed Division, or undercover work.  She chose the latter. She liked the idea of pitting her wits against the criminal fraternity, and better still, bringing them to justice.  And she did just that. It didn’t matter how long each sting took, she made it happen.

Nobody scared her. She wasn’t fearful of anyone, or anything.

The one thing in her favour had been her looks which she used to her advantage on many occasions. Why not? There was no point in looking like she did, and not using that. It wasn’t about being vain, far from it, she wasn’t bothered what she looked like. If she had been, she’d have been gutted to have cut her long thick blonde hair short. On some women, the cropped look would be too harsh, but she had the bone structure to carry it off. It suited her. And if the occasion arose, which it undoubtedly would shortly, she would be able to dress up like the rest of them. A bit of gel on her fingers, and a quick fluff up at the roots, and she’d look like a trendy fashion model. And even though the vast majority of men loved women with long flowing hair, she knew she was beautiful however she wore her hair. She’d never been short of admirers, but she kept men compartmentalised in her life. As far as she was concerned, she used them like they used her.

She stood up and pressed the bell to notify the bus driver she wanted to get off, before making her way down the aisle to the exit door.

The task ahead now was to bring Dylan Rider down, and she was going to succeed.

Nothing was more certain.

Failure wasn’t a word in her vocabulary.