Break Point: BookShots Read Free

authority. It was a trait Foster always noticed in people who had found success early. ‘I haven’t slept for days.’
    Foster studied her face. Her eyes were rimmed in red, and faint blue shadows were smudged below them. In that moment she looked terrified.
    He had watched Keller’s career highlights via YouTube on the Eurostar train. She was impressive. Her explosive power made her look untouchable on the court. Not like the woman sitting in front of him today. She bent down and reached into an expensive-looking clutch bag, pulling out a folded sheet of white paper.
    ‘This is why I need your help,’ she said, her hands shaking as she put it on the table between them.
    ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got.’
    He was less than careful with the paper, making a point of creasing it slightly as he handled it. All designed to say to Keller,
It’s just a piece of paper
.
    The page contained a small, neatly typed message:
Good luck in the final. I’m coming
. There was also a loose memory stick along with it. It had been attached to the note and there was a tear where Keller had pulled it off. Next to that, a lock of hair was crudely taped onto the paper.
    ‘What’s on the memory stick?’ Foster asked.
    ‘A video of my parents’ house,’ Keller said.
    Foster studied the words. Not much to go on.
    ‘It’s horrible, isn’t it?’ Keller said quietly.
    Foster looked at her and smiled softly. ‘I promise I’ve seen a lot worst. Do you think they were in the grounds when they recorded the video?’
    Keller looked surprised by the question, then thought about it. ‘No, I think they were filming from the street. But you can see my mom in the window.’
    Foster nodded. ‘And the hair?’
    ‘My dog,’ she said. ‘The police tested it and it’s definitely dog hair. There’s no way I could bring a dog out on the tour, so Benji lives back home with my parents. Someone took a chunk out of his fur back in the States and then brought it over here with them. We found a patch cut out of his coat, when we checked.’
    Foster glanced at Abbot. ‘Have you watched the tape?’
    Abbot nodded. ‘There’s nothing there, though, Chris. Half a shadow across a windscreen, but I couldn’t even tell you if it was a man or a woman.’
    ‘Okay,’ Foster said. ‘And there’s been nothing else?’
    Keller shook her head slowly. Foster guessed her life was pretty routine: a series of arrivals lounges, hotel rooms, training days, match days and then departure lounges, before the whole process started again in a brand-new city. Same meals. Same staff. Same old, same old. If there had been anything unusual, he believed she would remember.
    ‘Did all of this come through the post?’
    Keller shook her head.
    ‘It appeared in my kit bag. Like magic.’
    ‘Like magic?’
    ‘During my first-round match at the French Open. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t in my bag when I went out to play, but it was there when I got home. That’s what scares the shit out of me. Whoever did this must have been able to get access to restricted areas.’
    Foster nodded. ‘I can’t think of many places that are truly private, in this day and age.’
    Keller’s coach snorted. ‘We’ve been here thirty minutes,’ she said suddenly. ‘You don’t take a single note. You write down nothing. Not very professional, I think.’
    Foster kept his eyes on Kirsten. ‘I don’t need to write things down. I notice things, and remember them. It’s my job.’
    Rosario snorted again.
    ‘You bit your nail when the rest of us were looking at Kirsten’s letter,’ Foster said. ‘You snapped the acrylic right off, by mistake. You thought nobody noticed and you slipped it into the left pocket of your tracksuit. It’s there right now.’
    On instinct, Tom Abbot and Kirsten Keller glanced at Rosario’s fingers. A flicker of embarrassment played across her eyes for half a second, but then she shrugged and said nothing.
    ‘You also thought I didn’t