Martha was swift and efficient, the staff at the motel were equally efficient and in less than ten minutes Kathleen was in her room, sitting on the edge of the bed while Martha filled the kettle Kathleen had insisted on bringing from home. You couldn’t have a proper cup of tea without boiling water, and Kathleen had never trusted the machines in hotel rooms.

It was a pretty room, with views across the fields that stretched behind them. Wherever possible they’d tried to avoid staying in busy towns.

Kathleen relaxed a little. She’d be fine after a rest.

“There.” Martha put a cup of Earl Grey on the table near the bed, along with a shortbread biscuit. “I’m right next door, so I’ll go and settle in and then check on you in an hour.”

There was a tap on the open door. Josh stood there.

“How are you feeling? Is there anything you need?”

“I’m feeling good.” To prove it, Kathleen stood up and walked over to him, intending to thank him for his kindness. Halfway across the room she realized she’d made a mistake.

Her surroundings started to spin and she reached out to steady herself only to realize that there was nothing nearby that she could grab.

“Martha!” she cried out and was braced to hit the floor when strong arms caught her and broke her fall.

“You’re all right.” Josh’s voice was calm and rock steady, confirming Kathleen’s original suspicion that he was the perfect choice for Martha. She’d always considered a crisis to be a good test of a man’s character. A woman’s too, come to that.

“Put her on the bed! Kathleen?” Martha was the one who sounded panicked. “Do you have pain anywhere? I’m going to call the doctor.”

“You are not going to call the doctor. We’re going to wait for this to pass.” Kathleen lay back and closed her eyes, but the room swirled alarmingly so she opened them again.

Her tea would grow cold, and she couldn’t bear cold tea.

Was this it?

If she died here she’d never make it to California, and she’d never know what was in those letters.

Ruth.

Her old friend was the last thing on her mind before the world went black.

13

LIZA

Liza paused at the entrance of the lane. The beach house was set back from the road, almost impossible to find if you didn’t know where the turning was.

The house itself was protected from prying eyes and unwanted camera lenses by large iron gates, equipped with state-of-the-art security. It was the ideal property for someone high profile who didn’t want to be found.

The sun burned the back of her neck, and her feet felt hot and uncomfortable in the flat pumps she’d brought from home. The bag she was carrying smacked against her legs.