“Screw it.” Susan put her phone down and cracked her knuckles. “There are better ways to get answers.”

Reaching for her laptop, she set to work—and Esther went to get ready.

It was possible that Esther had invested in her role a little more than was strictly necessary. On opening the door to Susan’s knock, Esther was met with a nonplussed sweep of her outfit and a sardonic, “You know we’re not actually going to do any yoga, don’t you?”

Esther was wearing three-quarter-length leggings and a lotus flower–printed tunic she’d accessorized with a yinyang pendant and a hemp hairband, which pushed a long black plait off her face. Never in her life had Esther looked quite so wholesome, and she could envision the scorn this would prompt from Vectra. So much time spent contorting herself to meet someone else’s impossibly evasive standards, when she already had two friends who loved her just the way she was.

In trying to prove herself to Vectra, Esther had lost sight of herself. This was who she was. Someone who could change how she looked without worrying it would change how she felt.

Just because it looked like she enjoyed yoga didn’t mean that she actually did.

“I’m sorry about what I said before,” Esther said quietly while the two of them waited in the car park, both resting their weight against one of the bike racks. She’d wanted to say this sooner, but there hadn’t been a chance.

“I know,” Susan said, leaning against her slightly. It wasn’t a hug, but from Susan, it was close enough. “But I grudgingly admire the way you’re able to blurt out whatever it is you’re thinking—even if I don’t like what those thoughts are. So don’t let your penitence change you. OK?”

That was the difference between Susan and Vectra: Susan didn’t need to like something to respect it. And Esther kind of loved her for it.

“Ach! Get off me, you she-demon.” Susan struggled ineffectually as Esther smothered her in an enormous hug.

There came the sound of an engine from down the lane. When the headlights swept across the forecourt, lighting Susan’s face, she was looking at Esther with something approaching affection. Pushing away from the bike rack, she approached the van, casting a glance back over her shoulder to wave Esther forward.

“Come on, gothy. Let’s go save our friend from these amoral fiends.”

There wasn’t really enough room for four people in the front of the van, and Susan found herself straddling the central console, Esther’s legs hooked over one thigh. Her other leg pressed tightly up against that of the driver.

She held out her phone for McGraw to read the address Daisy had sent her all those weeks ago.

“It’s near where you picked up this van.”