She picked up a pad of paper and slipped it in her shoulder bag. Easton rushed over to his desk and grabbed what he needed. As Dani moved back over to the exit she felt as though the group of young men still had judging eyes on her. She stopped walking.

‘Don’t you lot have anything better to do?’ she snapped.

Silence.

‘Well?’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ came the chorus of half-hearted replies, though none of the men hopped into action.

‘Then what are you bloody waiting for? Move!’

Dani stood there, glaring at them until they finally dispersed, then she stomped off.

‘That told them,’ Easton said, catching up with Dani, an amused grin on his face.

‘Easton, don’t act like you weren’t part of that too. If I see you and your mates having a laugh at my expense again, I’ll knock your damn head off. Understood?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘How many times have I told you, call me Dani.’

‘Yes, Dani. Look, we weren’t—’

‘I don’t want to hear it.’

‘Sorry, Dani. We were only saying how you and that professor had a lot in common.’

‘I said I don’t want to hear it.’

‘I was thinking, though, maybe that guy could help us. I mean, we’ve got two dead bodies, perhaps the same killer. Murder is Grant’s area of expertise.’

‘Yeah. And look what happened the last time he helped the police. He was abducted and nearly killed.’

‘And you were nearly killed too. But you still came back.’

‘True. And the moral of the story, Aaron, is that some people just don’t know when to quit.’

And that was about the most sense that Dani could make of it all.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

They took Easton’s Peugeot over to the Grants’ house in the upmarket village of Knowle, thoughts of Ben still swirling in Dani’s mind, particularly given the history of the family they were about to speak to. Steven Grant too had nearly lost his life at the hands of a deranged killer. Had he ever truly recovered?

The street the Grants lived on was a quiet cul-de-sac with a multitude of individually designed detached houses. None were overly extravagant – the street wasn’t filled with footballers or mega-millionaires – but the homes were, in the main, handsome and well-appointed with large front drives and wide and deep plots.

Easton pulled up outside the gates to the Grants’ house and left the engine idling.

‘So Ethan Grant still lives at home with mum and dad?’ Dani said.

‘Well I’m not sure a nineteen-year-old could afford this type of place.’

‘Nor would a nineteen-year-old choose to buy a place like this even if they had the money. A city centre bachelor pad would be most likely.’

‘The police were called out here a couple of days ago.’

‘What for?’ Dani asked, wondering why Easton had only just chosen to tell her this.