And here is a taster of Chapter 3.
The man’s cropped dark hair was flecked with grey, and he was wearing a short-sleeved checked shirt that gaped around his stomach, and squeezed his upper arms. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his bright green shorts and rocked back on his flip-flops.
‘I’m looking for Kate O’Donnell. I’m her son,’ I called.