Lindsay dropped her empty bottle on the floor with a clunk. She sighed. “OK. You win. I’ll come back. You can stay here tonight, and first thing tomorrow, we’ll sort out a flight.”

Sandra Bloom’s smile quirked upwards at one corner. It was the only sign that she’d succeeded in a carefully worked-out plan. “Not quite,” she said. “I’ve got reservations for an overnight flight.”

Lindsay looked at her watch. “Tonight? No chance. I’ve got to discuss this with my partner, I’ve got to pack, I’ve got arrangements to cancel . . .”

“And Ms. Miller could be under arrest by morning.”

Lindsay stood up and glowered at Sandra Bloom. “Have you ever met my partner? Sophie Hartley?”

Sandra Bloom shook her head, puzzled. “Why? Should I have?”

“I think the two of you took the same guilt-tripping course,” Lindsay growled, picking up the bottle and stomping through to the kitchen.

Five hours later, she was in flight. Because college had broken up for the summer, she had no teaching burden to rearrange. Writing the book could wait; she’d reached the point where any distraction was welcome. It had taken less than half an hour to pack the assortment of light and heavy clothes an English summer normally demands. Lindsay’s attempts to contact Sophie had taken rather longer since Sod’s Law—anything that can go wrong will go wrong—was the only exception to itself, operating like clockwork as usual. Inevitably, Sophie and her cronies hadn’t been in their usual restaurant, so Lindsay hadn’t been able to speak to her lover. She’d ended up leaving a written explanation stuck to the tin of camomile tea that she knew Sophie would hit as soon as she came home. Hopefully, Sophie wouldn’t be too upset, given that their own summer trip to the UK was due to start in a week’s time anyway.

As the night slipped away under the plane’s wings, Lindsay wondered what she would find at the end of her journey. One thing was certain. Her own mourning had to go on hold if she was to be any use to Meredith at all. And in spite of her initial resistance to Sandra Bloom, Lindsay wanted to do what she could for Meredith. She’d always had a soft spot for her, not least because of Meredith’s response to her techno-fear.

It had happened after her last brush with murder. She and Sophie had been telling the story to Meredith and Penny one weekend when the four had been camping down at Big Sur. By lantern light, Sophie had revealed how, without her computer expertise, Lindsay would never have uncovered the truth behind the death of trade union boss Tom Jack. Both Meredith and Penny had been open-mouthed with astonishment to discover that someone who worked in the communications industry was a virtual electronic illiterate.

“Doesn’t make me a bad person,” Lindsay had mumbled uncomfortably.

The others hooted with laughter at her discomfiture. “You don’t have to be a nerd to know a bit from a byte,” Meredith told her. “Hey, it’s only scary because you don’t understand it.”