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Midnight in Westpoint. A cold and wet midnight. Senior Constable Paul Jamieson drove along slowly, patrolling, cruising through the valley of the night. Cold and wet, quiet and dark now, a complete turnaround from the excitement of the bright, sunny day.

It must have been time to go back for another coffee, but - "Hey. What's this?"

He stopped the car in the middle of the empty street and hurried across to the sparse shelter of the verandah outside the Adelphi Hotel. There was a figure there, a person hunched down on the sidewalk.

The head raised and eyes looked at him as he approached. "Damm, Jonathan! You nearly gave me a heart attack there."

The boy smiled; eyes peering out from under his hair. His hair? But Jonathan had shaved his head, hadn't he?

"Jonathan? Justin! Ohmigod!!! Justin is that you?"

"Hey Mr. Jamieson, Paul. I'm back!"