Inspector Rebus novels  / The Hanging Garden Extract John Rebus kissed his daughter. 'Sure you don't want a lift?' Samantha shook her head. 'I need to walk off that pizza.' Rebus put his hands in his pockets, felt folded banknotes beneath his handkerchief. He thought of offering her some money - wasn't that what fathers did? - but she'd only laugh. She was twenty-four and independent; didn't need the gesture and certainly wouldn't take the money. She'd even tried to pay for the pizza, arguing that she'd eaten half while he'd chewed on a single slice. The remains were in a box under her arm. 'Bye, Dad.' She pecked him on the cheek. 'Next week?' 'I'll phone you. Maybe the three of us ... ?' By which she meant Ned Farlowe, her boyfriend. She was walking backwards as she spoke. One final wave, and she turned away from him, head moving as she checked the evening traffic, crossing the road without looking back. But on the opposite pavement she half-turned, saw him watching her, waved her hand in acknowledgment. A young man almost collided with her. He was staring at the pavement, the thin black cord from a pair of earphones dribbling down his neck. Turn round and look at her, Rebus commanded. Isn't she incredible? But the youth kept shuffling along the pavement, oblivious to her world. And then she'd turned a corner and was gone. Rebus could only imagine her now: making sure the pizza box was secure