“Maybe she was simply cleaning up after herself—getting rid of anyone who could pin a connection between her and Rosen Pharmaceuticals.”

“Maybe.” I slapped a couple of pieces of bacon between two slices of toast and took a bite. “Janice had a photo of Amanda and Rinaldo on her phone—and that photo just happened to show the car’s number plate.”

Jackson’s eyebrows rose. “Interesting that you didn’t give that piece of information to PIT.”

“I actually did. But there’s no reason we can’t also pursue it.” I took another bite of my sandwich. “Especially given the inspector didn’t tell me not to.”

“I’m gathering you still have that photo?”

“Yeah, I do.” I rummaged around in my handbag until I found Janice’s phone, then brought up the pic and handed the phone to Jackson. “I’m guessing your police source will be able to trace it for us.”

“No need to use her,” he said. “Not when I have a contact at VicRoads.”

Which was the other name for the Roads Corporation of Victoria. “Is this another one of your stable ladies?”

“No, it’s a male friend. I do have them, you know.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ll send him a text, as personal calls are somewhat frowned upon during working hours these days, apparently.”

“Huh.” I waited until he’d sent the text, then said, “It might also be worth talking to Janice again. I did question her, but she’d been drugged, and while she was answering all my questions truthfully, I’m not entirely sure the drug wasn’t also messing with her mind. She might remember more with a clearer head.”

“Given who she was sleeping with, it’s more likely that Amanda, not the drug, was messing with her memories.” Jackson sat back in the chair and scrubbed a hand through his damp hair. He’d obviously been up long enough to shower before breakfast had arrived. “Let’s try her house first. It’s a long shot, but if Amanda was using her to steal information, it’s possible she was bringing files home.”

“It certainly wouldn’t be the first time in history someone had been used by his or her lover to gather information.”

He raised an eyebrow, amusement once again touching the corners of his eyes. “And is that personal experience speaking?”

“Maybe.” A grin twitched my lips. “And maybe not.”

“I’m beginning to think it’d be easier to get blood from a stone than information about your past from you.” He drained his coffee, then rose. “Shall we go?”

“Just let me do my teeth first.”

“Good idea. Grotty green teeth on a redhead would not be a great look.”

I snorted, tossed a bit of crust at him, and then headed into the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, we were on our way.