Read No Going Back for Free Online

he washed the lorry down with the pressure hose in the concreted-over farmyard that was the TFS head office and depot. At 5 feet 8, ex-army sergeant Bowden was 4 inches shorter than Daniel but probably a stone heavier, built like a nightclub bouncer. He looked tough, and was, with his receding grey hair cut razor-short and a small earring in his left ear, but the crow’s feet around his eyes spoke of a ready humour.
    Daniel turned off the water and wiped his hands on the front of his boiler suit. His employer had been at a farm sale that morning and it was the first time they’d spoken.
    â€˜Yeah, they both turned up, eventually,’ he said, and explained what had happened.
    â€˜But you’re still not happy about it,’ Bowden observed, absentmindedly rubbing at a patch of paintwork that had escaped Daniel’s cleaning.
    â€˜I just don’t trust the man. I’m not convinced he ever called the rescue people. I’d like to check, but I don’t know whether the police will tell me.’
    â€˜No need for that,’ Bowden said. ‘Figgy’s a Search and Rescue volunteer. He’d know if anything was called in last night, for sure.’
    â€˜Figgy? I didn’t realize. Is he still here?’
    Andy ‘Figgy’ Figgis was one of Daniel’s fellow drivers at TFS, but such was the nature of the job that in the three months or so that he’d worked there, Daniel had exchanged no more than early-morning platitudes with him, or any of the others, come to that.
    â€˜No, he’s gone on, but I can give you his mobile number. I’m sure he won’t mind. He’s a good lad is Figgy. Come over to the office when you’ve finished here.’
    Ten minutes later, stripped of his overalls and with the lorry safely parked in its bay, Daniel rapped on the half-open door of Bowden’s office.
    â€˜Come in, come in.’
    Daniel did so, stepping a foot or two inside and waiting.
    â€˜Come right in and shut the door. It’s brass monkeys out there! Where’s Taz?’
    â€˜Outside.’
    â€˜Well, call him in, man. Have a seat. Coffee?’
    â€˜I’m fine, thanks,’ Daniel said, but Bowden poured him one anyway, standing the slightly chipped mug on the corner of his desk.
    Taz came eagerly in response to a low whistle, slinking in to sit at Daniel’s feet as he sank reluctantly into the chair opposite his boss.
    â€˜He works well for you, considering,’ Bowden commented, apparently absorbed in leafing through an address book.
    â€˜Considering . . . ?’
    â€˜Well, Alsatians are pretty much one-man dogs, aren’t they? I know some of the army dogs would do anything for their handlers but might just as well’ve been deaf for all the notice they took of anyone else. Lucky for you he’s adapted so well.’ He looked up, fixing Daniel with a sharp eye, and Daniel suspected Bowden wasn’t fooled by his story of having got the dog from a friend.
    â€˜Well, he’s only young, and besides, one whiff of a bacon butty and he’d work for anyone,’ he joked, electing to continue the bluff.
    His interview for the job with TFS had been a casual affair. At the time, it had seemed that as long as Daniel had a current HGV licence, Bowden was happy and not too bothered about his employment history. Now Daniel was uneasy. If he probed, Bowden would find that while Daniel had told no lies, he had been economical – if not to say miserly – with the truth.
    Bowden shook his head. ‘No, I’ve seen the way he looks at me. He’s happy to leave me alone as long as I behave myself, but if I put a foot wrong . . .’
    â€˜It’s nothing personal.’
    â€˜Oh, I know that.’ Bowden tossed a TFS business card across the desk to Daniel. ‘There you are. Figgy’s number. Use my phone. What’ll you do if Reynolds was lying?’
    Daniel shrugged. ‘I don’t