He couldn’t help but notice that a dark silver BMW saloon was parked opposite the house. It didn’t take much to recognise the passenger; he was easily discernible in daylight. He was six feet four and as wide as he was tall. Unfortunately it was all flexed muscle; glistening, powerful. Gibbs was one of Madley’s henchmen. He covered as a bouncer at Madley’s nightclub in Whitley Bay, but that was for pocket money; his day job paid the rent. Brady hadn’t seen the driver before, a scrawny, dark-haired guy with a sneer for a face. Brady got in and sighed wearily. His leg was playing up. He rummaged through his inside jacket pocket for some painkillers. His hand nudged against the set of house keys he’d discreetly lifted from Matthews’ kitchen worktop. Matthews had left him no choice. Brady had to come back later to see if he had left any trace of where he’d gone. He found the bottle and threw two tablets into his mouth and swallowed. ‘Matthews’ kid reckons that Sophie left here at ten last night and walked home.
