The commentator had said that Saunders’ brother had killed himself one year ago today. Foster pulled out his phone and searched online for more details and found an article straight away: Heartbreak Tennis Ace Found Dead.

The website reported that Jake Saunders, brother of respected umpire Noah Saunders and Kirsten Keller’s ex-boyfriend, had been found dead in a Santa Barbara motel. A good player, the report said, but not great enough to join Keller on the world tour, and the couple had gone their separate ways. Jake had not coped well, and not long after the break-up he had hanged himself, with Keller’s tennis matches playing on the TV screen in front of him.

The same way Maria Rosario had died.

The umpire looked edgy, shifting in his smart blue blazer and fidgeting with his hands. Foster knew that Saunders had crafted this moment. No doubt he had poisoned the match umpire to get in the chair. He had terrorised Keller and killed Maria Rosario. All of it had been building up to today, the anniversary of his younger brother’s suicide. Foster slipped his phone back into his pocket and braced himself for what was coming.

CHAPTER 26

FOSTER HAD NO jurisdiction to climb over the barriers and onto the court. By the time he was halfway there, he’d be wrestled to the ground by fifteen well-meaning security guys, and while he was on the ground Noah Saunders would have time to act.

Oblivious to it all, Kirsten Keller was completely still at the far end of the court. Her razor-stare was fixed on her opponent. It was break point and she sensed blood. Her opponent served. They were seventy-eight feet apart. Keller had a little less than half a second to react. Duly the ball came, and she flung herself at it and returned it deep into her opponent’s half of the court. It was unreturnable, and the crowd erupted.

‘Game, Miss Keller.’

Noah Saunders leaned forward and began to rise from his chair. Some of the applause turned to concerned shouts, as sections of the crowd spotted the glint of a blade emerging from his jacket. Now it was Foster’s turn to react at lightning speed. No official gets out of the chair during a match, so Foster was already moving before he saw the knife. With no concrete plan, he ran straight at the umpire’s chair and flung himself at it. He leapt high, shouldering it well above its centre of gravity. The whole thing toppled sideways under his weight.