‘Um, the Drying Room is not really for people to stay in,’ Juliette said.

Crawford looked up, held a flat hand out and watched a few small flakes land in it and melt. He was keen to wrap this up and get inside. He turned to Michael apologetically. ‘It’d only be for a few hours.’

Michael nodded.

It occurred to me then that this would have been a perfect time for Erin to speak up. If prison wasn’t Michael’s alibi, then she could be. We all knew they were together anyway, so what was a night between them? When she still didn’t say anything, and I realised that whatever they were keeping secret was worth being locked in the Drying Room on suspicion of murder over, my curiosity was piqued.

‘Where did you learn to be a police officer?’ Marcelo might have hit Crawford if he hadn’t had my mother draped across his shoulder. ‘None of this is legal.’

Police officers in these books, while being Last Resorts or Only Hopes, can also have character traits such as By The Book or Screw The Rules. It appeared Crawford had surprised me again.

‘I’m happy to cooperate,’ Michael repeated.

‘It’ll be all right,’ Erin said, giving him a hug. Her hands slid down his spine and into his rear pocket, the other one this time. Not that I noticed.

Then they were all walking towards the guesthouse. I followed, swept up in the tide. Marcelo was keeping pace, having handed Audrey off to Sofia, talking Crawford’s ear off in language I’ll deem colourful, both for the flurry of legal terms and the graphic descriptions of how one could fornicate with their own face.

‘I need you to give me some space,’ Crawford said at the top of the stairs, in a stern voice that belonged to Screw The Rules cops. He was talking to Marcelo, but we all stopped. Being that we were all at different heights on the stairs, it felt like we were in a stage play or posing for a wedding photo. ‘Get warm. We’ll talk soon.’

Crawford put his hand on Michael’s back and guided him towards the door.

‘You will not talk to him without me present.’ Marcelo got in one last jab.

‘That man does not speak for me. He is not my lawyer,’ Michael said. Then he turned and raised both cuffed wrists, clasping the lower half of his hands in a club shape, both pointer fingers together. He was pointing at me. ‘He is.’

CHAPTER 14.5

Right. A lot has happened, so I thought I’d jump in here with a quick recap.

I know: it’s a bit weird. But I want us all to be on the same page. Figuratively: I know you bought the ebook. If you’re confident in your cognitive abilities, you can skip ahead.