‘He’d have known the game was up,’ Fanshawe said. ‘I had already issued a warrant for his arrest and sent officers around to warn you. They arrived seconds after your call. I’m afraid, you’re going to need to replace the second lock now too. For the moment, it’s a crime scene.’ He sat back. ‘You’ve a whopping great bruise on the side of your face, bruises to your neck and the paramedics say your arm is broken. At the hospital, they’ll take photographs of all your injuries, okay?’ Carstairs appeared at the open door of the ambulance and stared inside. ‘I need to go,’ Fanshawe said with a look in his direction. ‘There’ll be statements to be made,’ he said. ‘I’ll call in to see you tomorrow.’

Shock had covered everything that had happened in a dense fog. Everything felt distant, numb. She guessed when it wore off, the pain would be unbearable, almost as unbearable as telling Freya and Remi that their father had tried to kill her, and that she had killed him.

‘We’ll be heading off in a sec,’ the paramedic said, scribbling on a clipboard.

‘Would it be possible to make a phone call?’ she asked, her voice thick.

‘Sure, your mobile is here.’ He reached behind, took it from a shelf and held it out. ‘Hang on,’ he said, ‘I can take that off your finger, your Sats are okay.’ He unclipped an oxygen saturation monitor from her finger and handed her the phone.

She could ring one of her friends. Amelia or Petra, she knew, would rush over, they’d be horrified, shocked and saddened and would be there for her. There were tough times ahead, she’d need their support.

A wave of sadness and despair swept over her. She needed more than friends, she needed family or the next best thing. Someone who had been with her through the good times, a woman she had laughed and cried with and who loved Freya and Remi almost as much as she did.

Someone she should never have let go.

With one hand it was awkward, but she managed to scroll through to the number she wanted and tap it before holding the phone to her ear. It was a few seconds before it was answered, but as soon as she heard the woman’s voice, she took a deep breath.

‘Rebecca, how would you like your old job back?’

Acknowledgements

A huge thanks, as ever, to Bloodhound Books, especially Betsy Reavley, Tara Lyons, Heather Fitt, Morgen Bailey and Ian Skewis.

A special thank you to Freya and Remi Guezo for lending me their names – and an extra thank you to Freya for coming up with the name Lucien Pleasant.

There would be no point at all in writing if I didn’t have such wonderful readers – thank you to those who read and to those who review and blog – all much appreciated.