Walking together in Hawley’s smaller adjacent office was no easy task either. Yellow tape stretched across the doorway, ordered by Grant the previous morning after receiving reports of “nothing of interest” from his colleagues conducting a search for anything that might shed light on the sergeant’s tragic end in Esher.

Grant told Rachel he thought it a good idea if she sifted through Hawley’s computer and scribbles—figuring the two of them had spent the last few days together trying to narrow the suspects that produced Prior Silver.

“As the two of you were compiling lists of my old cases, now with Sergeant Hawley gone . . .”

Her father stopped midsentence. Rachel placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. “I’ll give it my best effort, Dad. I can’t promise I’ll recognize anything if I see it, but it’s certainly worth trying.”

“Thank you.” He reached over and patted her hand still resting there.

She motioned him back toward his office. “Go do whatever you need to do. I’m sure there’s plenty for both you and John when he gets here.”

Grant nodded and moved off. Rachel winced, realizing she’d just called Frankel by his given name. But her father hadn’t reacted and she was appeased by the fact the two cops had been using each other’s first names since the day they met.

No harm, no foul, thought Rachel, using one of her favorite NBA expressions.

She lifted the tape and entered Hawley’s office.

A little while later, John ducked his head inside the door. Rachel looked at the clock on the desk—it was past ten. “You’re just getting here?”

“Your father called and said he was running late. Something about breakfast with you and your uncle?”

Rachel quickly told him what had occurred when she’d returned to Maida Vale. John looked at the wall behind her. They both knew her father was working away on the other side of it.

“So?”

“So?” Rachel asked, genuinely confused. “You mean there at the house ‘so’ or here at the office ‘so’?”

Her eyes strayed to Hawley’s computer and paperwork.

“Oh, sorry.” John smiled, apologetic. “This really isn’t going to be easy, is it?”

“Probably not.”

“Oh.”

She sensed the sudden disappointment in his voice. “John . . .”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t regret anything that happened.”

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“Yes, John. That’s a really good thing.”

She could literally see the tension drop out of his ruggedly handsome face. “Yes. Definitely.”

Rachel smiled. “At least we got that straight.”

John nodded. He started to exit the small office and Rachel turned back to the computer. She punched some buttons on the keyboard.

“So?”

She looked back up. John had reentered the room.

“So?” she wondered.

He pointed at the desk and computer. “Anything?”