She couldn't shake it, that feeling that something monumental was about to happen. It fizzed in her stomach and raced around her head, until she gave up any pretence of trying to sleep, pulling on her dressing gown and heading to the kitchen.
Her bare feet cold on the tiled floor, she curled her toes and rocked back on her heels while she waited for the kettle to boil. A glance at the clock told her she'd barely been in bed for an hour, yet despite having been achingly tired when she climbed in she was now wide awake.
Hot drink made, she made her way through to the lounge and flipped on the television, skimming through the channels until she came to a news programme. Tucking her feet up she let the voice of the newsreader flow over her, the war in Afghanistan, the Russians grouping on the Ukrainian border… then breaking news.
The picture that flashed up on the screen showed a thirty something brunette, and with widening, horrified eyes she saw her friend, and heard the reporter say how she'd been found dead by her boyfriend, businessman Jay Barrymore.
In shock she scrabbled for her phone and dialled a number.
"Hi," she said as the police operator answered. "It's Sally Donovan, I need to speak to the boss."