I relax a bit as the attention moves away from me, but as I turn to thank the waiter for the plate of food he has placed in front of me I catch the eye of a man sitting alone at a table on the other side of the dining room.

It’s him again. Paul. He has clearly escaped the waving arms of the American woman, whose name I now know to be Donna. It’s definitely him. His eyes are small, sharp, perched over a hooked nose. He has the look of an eagle and seems to be weighing me up again. He neither smiles nor averts his eyes when I return his gaze. Just like last night.

I lift my chin and turn back to the table.

Donna is in full flow, requiring no input from anyone else, and this gives me time to study her and my fellow diners. Down the table to my right sit an older couple, probably in their early seventies. She is the one who smiled kindly at me earlier, and is called Thea, but I have no idea what her husband’s name is because she always calls him ‘dear’ or refers to him as ‘the doctor’.

‘The doctor and I have been to some beautiful places in the past few years, haven’t we, dear? I think Vietnam was our favourite.’

The doctor, a striking man with the unusual combination of black eyebrows, white beard and an almost bald skull, merely looks up and nods. His brows point down towards his nose as if in a permanent scowl, and he seems content to leave his wife to do all the talking.

Strangely, I am grateful to Donna for asking me to join them. Chatting with them over dinner has forced me to think about something other than Ian and the situation I’m going to have to face when I return home. The thought never entirely leaves me, though. It has settled like a heavy stone in a dark corner of my mind.

CHAPTER 5

5

As DCI Tom Douglas walked down the long corridor back to his office from a particularly tedious meeting, he smiled at the message on his phone. Louisa was cooking dinner that night and wanted to know what he fancied eating. He was so engrossed in her message that he didn’t realise for a moment that Becky Robinson was approaching. He glanced up at the sound of footsteps and immediately flattened himself against the wall, arms outstretched to either side of him, palms and fingers splayed against the grey partition.

‘Ha, bloody ha,’ Becky said. ‘I’m not that big.’

Tom grinned, and they both moved towards his office door at the same time, Tom standing back to let her through.

‘What are you so chipper about, anyway?’ she asked as he pulled out a chair for her. ‘And stop treating me as if I’m made of glass, will you please.’