But a few hours later, after she’d finally gotten her mother to bed, Rachel was still sitting wide awake in the same kitchen chair. Whether it was the time change, the jet lag, or overriding concern for a rotten diagnosis dumped on her mother by some Harley Street practitioner, Rachel was keyed up beyond belief.

And totally positive her mother hadn’t told her the complete truth about what had transpired in the living room earlier that day. She couldn’t stop thinking about the unlocked door, the half-cleaned mess in the fireplace hearth, and the startled look on her mother’s face when Rachel stepped into her father’s study.

A few minutes later, she was clicking keys on the laptop. She looked at the search history and the last few entries almost made her keel over.

Sexual Assault Evidence Kit. Rape Kit. Sexual Assault Examination. Sexual Assault Definition.

Rachel heard someone start to whimper and realized that it was her.

She sobbed and sat in her father’s chair completely paralyzed.

Her first instinct was to call and wake her father in Glasgow, but there was no way she could do that without talking to her mother first. The next thought was to barge into the bedroom and confront her, but the woman was exhausted and on the verge of who knows what kind of breakdown because she’d kept everything buried for so long.

So she did nothing. Except wait for the sun to come up.

An hour or so after dawn, her mother walked into the study to find Rachel still sitting behind the desk. Allison glanced at the grandfather clock and then out the window, where a wintry gray light had begun to seep through.

“You’re up early,” she said to Rachel.

“I actually never went to bed.”

Allison shook her head. “I hate those transatlantic flights.”

“Did someone attack you, Mom?”

Rachel watched her mother stiffen—and felt her own heart break into a million pieces.

“Attack? What?”

“Did someone break into this house and sexually assault you last night?”

Before she’d let her mother try and utter another denial, Rachel opened the laptop. “I read through the search history.”

“I really should learn how to work that thing properly,” her mother said, indicating the computer. “I thought we raised you better than to go snooping into others’ private affairs.”

“It’s what I do for a living for Christ’s sakes!” Rachel shook her head and rose to her feet. “Jesus—why am I even explaining this to you? Mom—please! Were you raped?”

Her mother moved over to the sofa. Rachel could see her hand trembling slightly as she gripped the arm for support and lowered herself onto the cushion.

“It never got that far,” Allison murmured.

“Didn’t get that far?” Rachel did everything possible not to scream at the top of her lungs. “What the hell are we talking about here?!”