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  “So you were never on bad terms with her?”

  “No. I used to feel sorry for her sometimes, standing outside in bad weather, but I didn’t tell her that in case it encouraged her. She was an irritation more than anything.”

  “I’d be interested in talking to her as a character witness. She saw you at times nobody else did.”

  “I don’t know how to find her,” Ethan said.

  “Do you still have her letters?”

  “They’re in my house, or at least they are if the police didn’t take them.”

  “They probably didn’t. Their investigation’s been somewhat superficial so far.”

  Ethan described how to find the letters, which were in one of his desk drawers in the study. I’d seen nothing about them in any of the police files Mack had found so far.

  “I’ll take a look.”

  “Won’t my house be sealed off still? By the cops?”

  “Don’t worry about that.” I’d had plenty of practice with both lock picks and avoiding law enforcement officials—my shitty childhood had given me some advantages in later life. Then I had another thought. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to your house keys? The police report said they were missing from the scene of the accident.”

  “I always put them in the same place, along with my car keys. It’s a habit so I don’t lose them. I don’t know where else they’d be.”

  “And where’s that?”

  “The table in my hallway has a hidden drawer underneath. If you press the front of the right-hand end, it pops out.”

  “Why hide them? Were you worried someone might steal them?”

  “No, it was just convenient. Right next to the front door. But what have my keys got to do with anything?”

  “I’m not sure,” I admitted. If they were hidden in the house, the cops could have missed them. “But if you opened the drawer to get your car keys, wouldn’t you have picked up your house keys as well so you didn’t get locked out?”

  “On any other day, yes, but if I’d just killed a girl, I was hardly thinking logically, was I?”

  No, but he was now. The conversation we’d just had was about as coldly rational as you could get, even though Ethan was stressed as hell. I could tell from the way he’d balled his hands tightly into fists, the skin stretched thin over his knuckles, and the quiet cough he gave to clear his throat before speaking. The pulse of his carotid artery when the light hit it at the right angle showed how fast his heart raced.

  I tried to force a laugh, but it came out as more of a choking sound. “You’ve got a point there.” I checked the clock. Ten minutes left. “Ethan, I’ve got something else I need to ask you.”

  At least he didn’t go silent on me again. He just looked resigned. “What?”

  “In your bedroom, it looks as if something was moved across the floor, but we can’t work out what. I need you to look at the photos and tell me if anything’s missing.”

  “Fuck.” He bit his bottom lip, leaving dents in the flesh. “I was sick when the police showed them to me.”

  “These ones were taken after the body was removed.”

  “I doubt they’re much better.”

  “Will you do it? Please?”

  He let out a long sigh. “Fine. It’s not like my stay in here could be much worse.”

  I spread out half a dozen pictures in front of him, covering all angles of the room. He was right. Even though Christina was gone, the outline of her body on the bed in blood didn’t leave much to the imagination.

  Ethan glanced at the array, then a second later, he looked up, focusing on a spot behind my head as he tried to compose himself. His breathing quickened, the opposite of mine as I held my breath, waiting to see what he’d do next.

  After two agonising minutes, he bowed his head and studied the pictures. Another minute passed before his eyes met mine again, and a tear ran down his left cheek. He tried to wipe it on his shoulder, but with his hands attached to the table, he couldn’t quite manage it.

  “I can’t see anything missing. I didn’t have a lot of stuff.”

  Another tear fell, and this time I couldn’t help myself. I reached forward and wiped it away with my thumb, his cheek warm and soft under my touch.

  A second later, the door opened. “No contact with the prisoner,” the guard informed me. “Your time’s up, anyway.”

  Ethan’s other cheek was wet now, but there was nothing I could do. Times like this, I really hated my job. I gathered up the photos and leaned as close as I dared.

  “I’ll be back in a couple of days, okay?”

  His lips quivered as he tried a smile. Tried and failed. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  CHAPTER 19

  I WALKED OUT of Redding’s Gap feeling pretty damn mixed-up. Don’t think of the last few minutes, Dan. I pushed Ethan’s tears to the back of my mind and concentrated on the good parts instead. I’d got Ethan to talk!

  Now I just had to work out what everything he said meant. Were the letters still there? How about the house keys? What would Lavinia have to say when I found her? And I would find her.

  As soon as the chopper touched down on the helipad at Riverley, I leapt out full of enthusiasm and ready to start digging, then realised Emmy was standing to the side, watching me.

  “What?”

  She handed me a bulletproof vest. “We’re getting straight back into that.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “A mall to the north that we’ve got the security contract for.”

  Ana ran up, dressed in black, and I eyed up the gun on her hip and the duffel bag full of equipment she carried.

  “I’m guessing this isn’t a shopping trip?”

  “Nope. This is far more entertaining.”

  Great. Just great.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon assisting with a tense hostage negotiation, which is to say I was the eyes out the front while Wonder Woman and her psycho sidekick snuck around the back and disabled the hostage taker.

  All that drama because the guy behind the counter at Starbucks served someone close to the snapping point the wrong kind of coffee.

  At least the deadly duo was cheerful on the way back.

  “What did you think of the new Taser?” Ana asked.

  Emmy crinkled her nose. “I’m not sure I liked the way he flopped around like that.”

  “Nothing is ever going to be as neat as a .22 round to the head.”

  Jeez, I was glad those two met up. They were both as crazy as each other. Although I had to admit, normally I’d have joined in with the banter. Instead, I tuned out their conversation because all I could think of was the afternoon I’d wasted helping them rather than Ethan. It was another afternoon he’d spent inside a cell while I’d been free, and I was growing more and more convinced he didn’t deserve to be there.

  First, I needed to get into his house. Was the police guard still there? Not that a sentry would stop me, but it would give us one less thing to work around.

  “How do you feel about a bit of breaking and entering?” I asked Emmy as we exited the helicopter.

  “I’m always up for that. When and where?”

  “Ethan’s place. I’ll have to plan it.”

  “See? I told you this case would be fun.”

  “Fun. Right.”

  Emmy nudged me, grinning, still high on adrenaline from earlier, no doubt. “You always love a challenge.”

  “Right now, I’d rather flip burgers.”

  “Liar.”

  I’d diverted my calls to Leah while I was out, and when I returned to the office, I found I had a message from Ronan. Ethan’s manager was back, and he’d be at Spectre tomorrow morning if I wanted to speak to him?

  Did I ever.

  Harold Styles was the person who’d spent the most time day-to-day with Ethan over the past few years, not to mention one of the few who’d known the Ghost’s true identity, and I couldn’t wait to get his take on things.

  I se
nt Ronan a text to let him know I’d be there then tried to get some sleep. Tried being the operative word. Sleep wasn’t being kind to me at the moment. Over and over again, I wiped Ethan’s tears from his face, and by the time the world finally went black, I was crying my own.

  The next morning, I stifled a yawn as I walked into Spectre Productions. At least this time I didn’t need to go under false pretences, although four of the women stopped me on the way through to ask whether Cade would be coming back.

  Ronan instantly became my new hero when he pushed a cup of coffee over to me. “Here, I just got this, but you look like you need it more than me.”

  A strong Americano? Boy, did I ever.

  “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

  “How’s Ethan?”

  “He’s holding up, but being in that place is taking its toll.”

  “How’s…you know, the case?”

  “A few interesting things have cropped up.”

  “But you can’t talk about them, right?”

  I shook my head. “Sorry.”

  I barely knew Ronan, and I was wary of discussing specifics with anyone involved in an investigation. Especially this investigation, where I had a feeling things weren’t as they seemed.

  He shrugged, accepting. “It’s okay. As long as you’re doing your best for Ethan, that’s fine by me. Harold’s just got in, but he’s on the phone.” Ronan waved at a red light on his own console. “I’ll take you through as soon as he gets off it.”

  I sipped my coffee while Ronan took a call of his own, and after fifteen long minutes, the light next to Harold’s line blinked off. About time. Having to be patient was the thing I liked least about this job.

  The instant Harold opened his mouth, I knew I wasn’t going to like him. Probably because the first words out of it were, “My, aren’t you a pretty little thing.”

  The comment was addressed at my chest, and believe me, there was nothing little about that.

  I stuck out my hand, trying not to cringe openly when Harold took it in his and kissed it.

  “Daniela di Grassi. It’s good to finally meet you,” I lied.

  “Likewise. Ronan tells me you’ve got some questions about Ethan. Such a terrible business, that. It just goes to show how you can know someone for years yet not really know them at all, doesn’t it?”

  So Harold thought Ethan killed Christina? Strange that the man who’d probably seen more of him than anyone had a different opinion to everybody else.

  “I guess it does. I understand you were closer to Ethan than most?”

  Harold preened a little. “I always believe in representing my clients to the best of my ability.”

  Good non-answer. “Do you have many other clients besides Ethan?”

  “Elastic Trickery, plus a couple of solo artists. Did Ronan tell you about the band?”

  “He said Ethan discovered them.”

  Harold smiled at me, as if he was surprised my tiny brain had managed to remember that fact. “He did. And since this mess began, their bookings have gone through the roof. No publicity is bad publicity, eh?”

  Unless of course you were stuck in a super-max like Ethan.

  “So, I take it you’ve been busy, then?”

  “Oh, yes. Meeting after meeting after meeting. I’ve spent so much time on planes it’s played havoc with my skin.”

  He stroked a dry patch on his face to emphasise his point.

  Asshole.

  “But what about Ethan? Have you been in contact with him?”

  Not that Harold would have got very far if he had tried to call, but I was interested in his answer. I had a feeling I knew it already.

  He shifted in his chair. “I didn’t think that was a good idea.”

  “Why not? Don’t you think he could use some support?”

  “I can’t be seen to be condoning murder.”

  “So you think he did it?”

  “From what I’ve heard on the television, the evidence speaks for itself.”

  “But you know Ethan. Didn’t the news surprise you?”

  “Well, of course. But you never can tell, can you?”

  “Can I ask you a few questions about Ethan’s behaviour before the incident?”

  “I guess, but I’m not sure what the point would be. I didn’t see him on the day that poor girl died.”

  “I’m trying to build up a picture of who he was so I can work out what might have made him act so out of character.”

  Harold reached out and ran his fingers along my arm, making me want to chop them off. “All right. Since you asked so nicely.”

  Half an hour later, the only new thing I’d learned was that Harold Styles was an even bigger prick than I initially thought.

  He managed to turn every facet of the conversation to himself. How worried he’d been about his career when Ethan got arrested. The hurt he’d felt that Ethan had been so stupid and broken their partnership. His fear that his earnings might drop as a result of Ethan’s antics.

  And he did all that while sitting close enough for our knees to touch.

  What surprised me most out of the meeting was that if Ethan had indeed decided to kill somebody, it hadn’t been his manager. Ol’ Harry was lucky it wasn’t Emmy asking the questions because she’d have plotted his murder by now.

  He sat back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. “I must say, that wasn’t a bad little discussion, was it? Can I interest you in joining me for lunch?”

  Only if I had time to shoot back home and pick up some arsenic first. “Sorry, I have to get to my next meeting.”

  “Maybe another time, then?”

  “Maybe.” Right after me, Satan, and Osama bin Laden all went ice skating together.

  A little bit of sick came into my mouth as he leaned down and kissed me on the cheek, then I escaped back to Ronan’s office.

  He laughed when he saw my face.

  “Dare I ask what you thought of Mr. Styles?”

  “Not unless you’re fond of expletives. My only question is why?”

  Ronan knew straight away what I meant. “When Ethan first met him, he wasn’t so bad. Harold had contacts, and he got him some decent gigs to start with. I don’t think Ethan’s ever forgotten that.”

  “But now?”

  Ronan gave me a wry smile. “As Ethan developed his talent, Harold developed his ego.”

  “What did Ethan think of that?”

  “He didn’t like it, but he put up with it. More than once I hinted that he should dump Harold, but he didn’t. Ethan’s non-confrontational.”

  I was beginning to understand that, and I didn’t bother to hide my grimace. “I couldn’t work with that guy.”

  “Most of the time, I find it difficult, but as long as Harold kept getting bookings and organising shows, I didn’t have a reason to push for change. But now? I’m worried about where Ethan being away will leave the business. Harold essentially controls it at the moment.”

  “Is he a shareholder?”

  “No, but he and Ethan are the only directors. And one of the girls in accounts told me Harold’s already given himself a raise.”

  I hated the man more with each passing second. “I’ll talk to Ethan, see if I can persuade him to do anything.”

  And if that didn’t work, I’d speak to Emmy. She’d probably be easier to convince.

  CHAPTER 20

  YOU KNOW WHEN someone gives you a surprise gift, and you get all excited, and then it turns out to be shit? Well, that was what happened to me on Thursday.

  “I got you CCTV footage from the club, the night Ethan met Christina,” Mack informed me, sounding chipper.

  I would have been thrilled if it hadn’t been ten past five in the morning. Damn Mack and her crazy work hours. Not that she woke up early. No, Mack was practically nocturnal at the moment and hadn’t yet gone to bed.

  “Can you send it over?”

  “The link’ll be in your inbox in a few seconds.”

  I couldn’t fu
nction without coffee, and since I was awake now anyway, I went to the kitchen and fired up the machine. One double espresso later, and I’d rejoined the land of the living. I wandered over to the sofa, turned on the big screen, and pressed play.

  The picture quality was better than I’d hoped for. Not as good as the top-of-the-range system in Emmy’s club, but when I zoomed in, it was easy to make out people’s expressions. The camera was mounted high up on the wall, and after a minute or so, I saw Ethan walk into frame, his arm around a blonde.

  Christina.

  A pang of something hit my chest, making my breath hitch. No way. That was not jealousy.

  Neither of them seemed in a hurry as they sauntered over to the bar. Ethan leaned down and whispered something into Christina’s ear, and she laughed, her face open and happy. As they waited for drinks, Ethan tucked her against him protectively, and she rested a palm against his chest. How the hell did that night end in carnage?

  I watched as they had a drink, then another, and after that, they hit the dance floor. Fuck me, Ethan could move. It was hard to reconcile the shy guy I’d met with the man on film, shaking his hot ass while a crowd of girls gave Christina icy stares.

  And it wasn’t just the girls. Men were watching Christina too. She had the looks and she had the moves, and every time she flicked her long hair back, more heads turned. There was no doubt they were the sexiest couple in there that night.

  The pair of them kept it up for almost an hour. I fast forwarded through some of it, firstly because I didn’t think it would help me much and secondly because I couldn’t bear to watch the happiness before the storm hit. I slowed the tape again when they left the dance floor, hand in hand, and headed back towards the bar.

  Before they got there, Ethan pulled Christina tight against him and kissed her. Not a sweet kiss, not a gentle kiss—it was an “I want to rip your clothes off” kind of a kiss.

  Holy smoke.

  I thought they’d been going for another drink, but it seemed as if they’d changed their minds. They veered towards the door, arms wrapped tightly around each other’s waists.