The story was on the front cover of every newspaper in England. Ben, who was visiting Christine for the weekend, read the report and went very pale indeed.

‘Oh shit.’

‘What?’

‘I knew her.’

‘Leanne Miller?’

‘No.’ He pointed to the fourth paragraph. ‘The woman she was with.’

Christine felt cold fingers around her throat as she read the name ‘Victoria Crabtree’.

‘How . . . How did you . . .’

‘I met her at a couple of Isabelle’s things. We . . . you know. Got off.’

It’s happening again. Victoria Crabtree and my family.

‘You mean you had sex with her?’

‘Yeah.’

‘It says she’s pregnant.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Did you use . . .’

‘No. She said she was . . . Oh Christ.’

Rivelli had ways of finding people who didn’t want to be found. And Joel made it so easy – the stupid kid hadn’t even changed his mobile phone number. All it took was a couple of calls, an offer of ridiculous money for a job that didn’t exist, and he was delivered to Rivelli’s office in the back of a company car.

‘Don’t stand there looking as if you’re going to piss your pants,’ said Rivelli. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

Joel was sweating, even though it was a cold February evening. The thin white shirt was sticking to his back.

‘What do you want, Mr Rivelli?’

‘I have a proposition for you, Joel.’

‘I . . . I can’t go back . . . Not after the last time.’

‘You owe me, Joel. I don’t like people who break contracts. I gave you a very easy job to do, and I paid you very well. You fucked it up.’

‘It wasn’t my fault . . .’

‘You told him. Will.’ Rivelli pushed Joel gently into a chair, stood before him. ‘Your boyfriend.’

‘He’s not my boyfriend.’

‘Oh, but he is.’ Rivelli looked down, remained standing. ‘Most definitely he is your boyfriend.’

‘Okay.’

‘Does he love you, Joel? Hmmm? Are you that good?’

‘Well, I think he might . . .’

‘Little lover boy . . .’ Rivelli smiled. ‘Everyone has had a taste. Will. Christine. Victoria. You are very popular. You must be very good.’

‘I suppose.’

‘And now I want you.’

‘You?’

‘But not for that. This is something different. And the reward is very high.’

This sounded more like it. ‘How much?’ asked Joel.

‘Your life.’

Christine called Will.

‘About our friend Rivelli. Have you seen him recently?’

‘No.’

‘Where is Isabelle?’

‘Still in LA, as far as I know.’

‘She’s not returning my calls.’

‘Is that unusual, Christine?’

‘No. Have you spoken to her?’

‘She sends me orders by email from time to time.’

‘When was the last time?’

‘You’re worried about something, aren’t you?’

‘Yes. Have you heard about Victoria Crabtree?’

‘My God, you don’t think Rivelli had anything to do with that, do you?’

‘I don’t know what I think any more.’

‘But why would he want to kill Leanne Miller?’