I hoped he was right, but I wasn’t counting on it.

“Is Janice in some sort of trouble?” Brad asked, his gaze darting between the two of us.

Jackson glanced at me, and I blew out a breath. “How well did you know her?”

“Only casually, via work functions and the like.” He paused. “‘Did’? Has something happened to her?”

“I’m afraid she was murdered this morning.” And, I silently sent to Jackson, why is it always the woman who has to give the bad news?

In this case, because you’re prettier than me, meaning he’s less likely to take it badly.

I’m sure there’s logic in that statement somewhere.

Brad scraped a hand through what little hair he had. “Shit. How did it happen?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say anything more right now,” I said. “But you can’t think of a reason why she might have visited Holdright?”

“Not officially, no.”

“And unofficially?”

“I didn’t know her that well, so I couldn’t say.”

I grimaced and stood up. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Jenson.”

Jackson handed him a business card. “If you do think of anything, please contact us.”

He glanced at the card and frowned. “I thought you were PIT officers?”

“We’re temporary ones—we’ve been seconded onto the current investigation.”

“Ah.” He pocketed the card. “I hope you catch her killer.”

“Thanks.” I gave him a smile, then headed out. “Well, that was a waste of time.”

“It wasn’t, because we’ve at least ruled out the possibility she was there on official business.”

“Which still leaves us down a rabbit hole with no exit in sight,” I said.

“True.” He paused while we dashed across the road. “Do you need to go see Rory?”

“Not until tomorrow. Why?”

“Because I think we have two courses of action right now—we continue the fruitless search for a lock to fit that second key we found at Wilson’s place, or we go back to the office and share the odious duty of going through Janice’s phone and checking all the numbers.” He unlocked the car, and we both climbed in. “Of course, it might be a whole lot easier if your memory would come to the party with the information of where you’d seen that name before.”

“Undoubtedly, but until that happens, there is a third choice.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That being?”

“A choice piece of work called Amanda. You did find her apartment, did you not?”

“I did indeed, and I think that’s a very fine suggestion.” He gave the satnav an address in Docklands, then pulled out into the traffic. “And I seriously hope the bitch is home—taking out another of Rinaldo’s soldiers can only work in our favor.”

“With Frederick’s disappearance, he more than likely has her under some sort of protection.”