It was cold and gray again when she stepped outside, the chill taking her breath away. Nikki having taken the car was annoying, as it meant she was stuck walking everywhere for the day, but once she started across the fields she was almost glad—the cold and the freshness of the air chased away the lingering effects of her sleepless night, and she felt stronger, more focused.

And perhaps it was more than just a feeling. Halfway up the hill that led to the imposing form of Fiddler’s Mill House, she realized that she had seen the odd building in the back of the photograph before, on a coffee table. The old man called Bert had said it was Fiddler’s Folly, a building belonging to the family who had once lived in the old house—and like all follies, it was a place with no obvious use or purpose. That meant that the photo had been taken here, on the coast.

She stopped where she was, ignoring the gusts of freezing wind, and wrestled the map out of her coat pocket. It was clearly produced with tourists in mind, covering the natural nearby attractions and the stretches of wild countryside, but it did just about reach the coast, at the very outer edge of the map. Heather squinted at it, looking for something likely to be the Folly, but she couldn’t spot it. Either it had been named something else, or they’d simply left it off. Frowning slightly, she folded the map and continued heading up the hill. She needed a reliable Internet connection.

“Oh. Can I help you?”

The orange woman with yellow hair looked pained at the sight of her. Heather stamped off some of the water onto the slick marble floor of the foyer and summoned her most winning smile.

“Hi, yeah. I was wondering if I could use your wi-fi?”

The woman frowned theatrically and appeared to consult a sheet of paper on her desk.

“Are you a guest here currently?”

“You know I’m not.” Heather leant on the desk, then thought better of it. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass. Don’t you have a café or something? I’ll buy a coffee, a sandwich, whatever you like. The place where we’re staying is located in some sort of technological black hole, and I desperately need to get something sent off for work. Deadlines, you know how it is.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “How do I know you’re not going to start, I don’t know, mouthing off to our guests about murders, and drugs, and so on?”

Heather held her hands up. “I’ve no interest in doing that, I promise. You’ve been really helpful so far—I’ll mention you personally on my Tripadvisor review.” She looked at the name badge on the woman’s shirt. “Melanie.”

“Fine.” Melanie turned back to her computer screen. “The café is to the right. You get the wi-fi password on your receipt when you buy something. So, you will have to buy something.”