Mick was sitting in the lobby of the police station in one of the green plastic bucket chairs that were bolted to the floor. The detective that was supposed to interview him had gotten called away. Mick had his phone out and was responding to emails when something had his gaze lifting from the screen. It was Sarah, walking into the lobby, her face pale and shoulders back as if she’d just bravely run the gauntlet through enemy territory. He rose to his feet. Every protective instinct he possessed urged him to sprint to her side, scoop her up, and remove her from the premises, but he forced himself to stay put. He watched her shake hands with the female detective, saw the second her gaze found him, rejoiced in the way the rigidity of her body and the suppressed panic in her eyes seemed to soften slightly. I love her, he thought as he watched her make her way to him. I love her so damned much.

“What are you smiling at?” She looked weary.

“You,” he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, dropping a soft kiss on her head.

“You finished giving your statement?”

Mick shook his head. “Haven’t gone in yet.”

“Oh dear.” He felt her shoulders slump slightly. Could see faint lines of strain around her eyes and mouth.

“Painkillers worn off?”

She nodded.

“I don’t know how long this is going to be,” Mick said. “You should go back to our room and get some rest.”

“I can wait with you,” Sarah said. And Mick knew she would, but it wasn’t necessary. “Vicki died. They think she was poisoned.” A faint tremor ran through her. “Kevin’s such a monster. He was probably with her when she phoned, forced her to call.”

“Maybe. Look, Sarah, I don’t want you hanging around here by yourself while they’re taking my statement.” What Mick didn’t mention was his worry that Kevin was in the building. She didn’t need the extra stress of crossing paths with her psychopathic ex.

“Hang on,” Mick said, holding up a finger. “I’ll be right back.” He jogged over to the receptionist. “Mick Talford. I’m waiting to speak with Detective Kostas. I have to go out front for a second but will be right back.”

“Fine.” The receptionist barely looked up, fingers flying over his keyboard. Mick returned to Sarah, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and steered her toward the metal-framed, thick glass doors.

“I’m going to pop you in a taxi. I want you to return to the hotel and wreak havoc: raid the minibar, order room service, flip channels, read a book, whatever. Enjoy some downtime. Let your body heal. Get some rest. I’ll join you just as soon as I’m done.”