‘Clodagh.’ The smile on his face turned into a frown as he drew closer to her. ‘My God. What’s happened?’

She fell into his arms, never more grateful to see him.

‘Come on,’ he said, keeping his arms wrapped around her. ‘Let’s get you upstairs.’

She let him lead her into the lift, leaning against him as he pressed the button for the top floor.

‘I’ve been so worried about you,’ he said. ‘I’ve called you loads of times, but I kept getting your voicemail. I was starting to think something bad had happened. Or that you were ignoring me.’

She didn’t answer, didn’t say a word until they were inside the room. She sat on the side of the bed watching Adam. He switched on the small lamp by the bed, before lifting a half-empty bottle of wine off the table and pouring some into the glass beside it.

He hadn’t been asleep, she realised. Adam usually went to bed early, but tonight he’d been sitting here in his room drinking red wine. Normally, she would have asked him if something was wrong, but she didn’t have the energy for that tonight.

‘Will you have some?’ he asked, holding up the bottle.

She shook her head. Right now, she felt as if she’d never be able to eat or drink ever again. It kept hitting her, over and over, that this was the second dead body she’d seen in less than a week. She knew, if she wasn’t very careful, she might never get beyond this. Something inside her was close to breaking, and if that happened, she didn’t think she’d have the strength to fix it.

‘Tara’s dead.’

Adam stood stock still, staring at her.

‘Tara? What time did this happen?’

There was something odd about the question, but Clodagh was too tired to work out what that was.

‘Someone killed her,’ she said, speaking faster now, the words tumbling out of her mouth as if she had no control over them. ‘She called me earlier, left a message. Except I couldn’t call her back because I kept getting her voicemail. So I came to London. Her neighbour had a key and she let me in and we found her. There was blood everywhere. It was like something from a horror film, except far worse. I’ll never forget it. I’ve spent the last few hours in a police station answering questions. They think I killed her. They didn’t say that, but I could see it in their faces and all the time I sat there, trying not to fall apart, I kept thinking what if this is my fault, somehow?’

‘Clodagh, stop it.’ Adam sat beside her on the bed and took her hand in his. ‘You’re not making any sense. How could any of this be your fault?’

She blinked. Had she really said that out loud?