Behind Closed Doors (Season One: Book 7) (Jessica Daniel) Read Online Free PDF

woman offered her hand and they shook. ‘I’m Zipporah but many call me Zip. I know you’re probably uneasy about being accosted on the street but I can assure you we mean no
harm to anyone. We’re simply looking for lost souls . . .’
    Jessica couldn’t maintain eye contact, glancing awkwardly towards the floor. She wondered if the reason Cole had come to her wasn’t because he thought she was perfect for it from a
policing point of view but because the only way they could truly place someone on the inside was if they found someone dead enough on the inside to fit in. She suddenly felt teary again, giving
herself the perfect cover by actually being the lost soul both sides wanted, a pawn in other people’s games, and she had wandered straight into it.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Jessica said, wiping her eye with her sleeve, her voice cracking.
    Zipporah rubbed her back softly. ‘There’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweetie, sometimes things don’t work out in our lives.’
    Unable to stop herself, Jessica opened up. ‘It all started with my dad . . .’
    Before she knew it, she had told the story of the past few months, leaving out the part that she was actually a police officer but giving almost everything else away. She didn’t have to
lie or embellish because this was the life she found herself with.
    Shoppers continued to hurry past and she could feel their eyes upon her, wondering who the crazy woman in tears was. If this had been a year ago, she would have been wondering why there was a
group of nutters handing out leaflets and thinking it was strange that someone had been taken in by it. But there was something maternal about Zipporah. She stroked Jessica’s hair and back,
she knew when to speak and when to stay silent. When she did talk, it was with a perfect mix of sympathy and concern.
    ‘We’ve had many people through our doors with circumstances like your own,’ she said, nodding towards Heather. ‘She’s been through unimaginable things but look at
her now. She’s smiling and talking to strangers.’
    ‘What is it you do?’
    Zipporah smiled kindly. ‘We have a community of our own a little north of here. We believe that much of what goes wrong in people’s lives is down to the expectations and stresses of
the modern world. We are largely self-sufficient and work together to make each other’s lives better. We have people with drug problems, alcohol problems, all coming to stay with us as an
alternative to society’s traditional methods. There are people like yourself who have had a tough time and want to escape from everything. We welcome anyone who is happy to fit in.’
    ‘How many of you are there?’
    The woman smiled again, keeping eye contact as if trying to read Jessica. ‘There are a few of us.’
    ‘Are you the person in charge?’
    This time Zipporah laughed, although it was clearly forced. ‘Oh no, my husband Moses is the person who helps to keep everything running smoothly. We come out to the city centres to recruit
and he makes sure everything is fine at the house. He may be my husband, so you might think me biased, but he truly is a great man.’
    ‘If I wanted to join, what would I have to do?’
    Zipporah lowered her voice, breaking eye contact and stepping closer to Jessica so no one could overhear. ‘We’re not an exclusive community but we do need to make sure everyone is
suitable and will fit in. You would have to be assessed.’
    ‘What does that mean?’
    ‘Nothing serious but you have to understand we are private people. Our success is due to the fact we don’t embrace modern society. One of our few concessions is a minibus which we
need to get around. We will be leaving from outside of Piccadilly Station at two if you would like to come with us. Of course I understand that people have various commitments and sometimes cannot
make such a quick decision.’
    She reached into her pocket and took out a card, handing it to Jessica. On it was printed the