Sterling snorted with laughter and Flowers relaxed, glad she hadn’t made a big thing of his impulsive suggestion they visit the sanctuary. Erasing his memories of the night they’d spent together was proving harder than he’d imagined. But he would get there, in time. Sterling had admitted she would like to date him, but was prioritising her career. Flowers understood. Ryder’s team was highly regarded, and Sterling had worked hard to get where she was. He knew that as Homicide’s latest recruit, she feared she’d be the first one transferred out should Ryder twig that there was something going on between them and worry it would interfere with their work.

‘What’s that beeping sound?’ Sterling asked suddenly.

‘It’s just the microwave,’ Flowers said, glancing over his shoulder before jumping up from the lounge. It wasn’t the microwave but the alarm on his computer announcing he had fifteen minutes before he needed to log on.

‘Go and eat,’ said Sterling. ‘You’ve had a long day.’

And it was about to get longer. ‘Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow.’

Flowers hung up and switched his phone to silent before putting it on the desk beside the monitor in case Ryder or someone in his family called. Smiling, he rubbed his hands together in anticipation. He was young and fit, and more than capable of pulling a few all-nighters. While he was determined to make Ryder proud by doing outstanding work on the case, he wanted this too.

Moving swiftly, he turned off the lights, plunging the apartment into darkness. Then he sat in the chair, placed an expensive headset over his ears and logged on.

Twelve

Sterling woke at first light. Outside, frost had turned the grass white, the bracing air making her grateful for her beanie, mittens and merino-wool running gear. Starting at an easy pace, she avoided the slippery grass, keeping to the bitumen as the sky turned pink in the east.

I wonder if this will delay the Lorrimers’ plans for . . .

Damn! If only the final part of that sentence hadn’t been lost in the din of conversation.

Warm now, she increased her pace as the road turned downhill. She passed the pharmacy, the coffee shop, and the Snowy Hydro Information Centre, noting the usual cars parked along the street. Turning left onto the Alpine Way, she stuck to the gravel shoulder, away from the vehicles hurtling past on the road.

A kilometre on, she took the quiet access road that led to the pondage, her warm breath sending puffs of mist into the air. She didn’t stop until she reached the parkland at the edge of the three-kilometre lake.

Hands on hips and sucking air into her lungs, she walked towards the boat ramp and stood looking across the water. An early-morning skier clad in a black wetsuit was bouncing across the wake.