Charlie knew she’d behaved stupidly, but seeing her boys having fun with the cars made her feel hopeful as she stumbled down to join them.

‘You can come to the Brazilian barbecue with us tomorrow, if you don’t want to spend Christmas alone in your room,’ she told Rex.

‘I don’t mind being alone,’ Rex said as Charlie stood next to Ed, buttoning her pants. ‘But I’ll come if you’d like me to.’

Rex doesn’t mind that his family died and is about to spend Christmas alone in a shabby motel room. I hate the way it hurts when I think about Harry, but I’d rather feel that than be dead inside.

‘Let’s try one of these cars, then,’ Charlie said, rubbing cold hands.

‘It’s sluggish cos the battery only has a couple of minutes left,’ Ed said as he handed his sister the controller. ‘And some guy called Shane O’Donnell came by while you were out. He said he needs to see both of us. It’s something to do with Fawn.’

Charlie felt wary when she recognised the name from the business card Gwen had passed on earlier.

‘What else did he say?’ Charlie asked.

‘He wants to speak to you urgently. He said call any time, day or night.’

‘Weird,’ Charlie said, passing the controller back to Ed before she’d used it.

‘Charlie!’ Patrick moaned. ‘I wanted to race you.’

‘In a minute,’ Charlie said as she pulled the business card Gwen had given her from the front pocket of her jeans.

She typed the name on the card into Google Search.

‘You should have seen his car,’ Ed said. ‘Mercedes S-class, long wheelbase. The new model.’

‘Someone’s got friends in high places,’ Rex said, his constant smile needling Charlie as she scanned the search results.

The internet said Shane O’Donnell was the senior probate partner at one of Vegas’s biggest law firms. He was a handsome red-headed man, on the board of several local charities and tipped as a future mayor of Las Vegas.

• • •

Charlie realised her phone battery was on seventeen per cent, so she plugged it into the charger before clearing a bunch of Ed’s junk off the sofa, sitting down and dialling the number on the card.

She got a snotty secretary, but O’Donnell took the call, even though it was after seven on Christmas Eve.

‘The Nevada probate court has appointed me to administer the estate of Fawn Janssen,’ O’Donnell explained. ‘I’m assuming you’ve heard that your sister’s DNA was identified in remains found at UrbanScape.’

‘Sure.’

‘I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Croker.’

‘We weren’t close,’ Charlie told him.

‘Now that a death certificate has been issued, her estate can be distributed.’