How had this happened anyway? A few months ago he’d been a loner—the place was his own, his refuge from the stress of work.

Now all that had changed, and his tiny little cottage was full of women, each one with an axe to grind. Zoe had no idea what Lydia was like. She might very well be the most gorgeous woman in creation, but she took some keeping in check—and where her livelihood was concerned, she had a complete disregard for her own safety

“Devon rang earlier. He wants to speak to you again,” Jo told him, coming into the sitting room to join them. That meant he probably had something—hopefully something he could use.

“Okay. I’ll take the laptop into the kitchen, Skype him and see what he’s got—then perhaps we can eat.” Calladine was glad of the chance to disappear for a while.

“We’ll have to send out for something,” Zoe called after him.

“We’ve not had time to sort anything food-wise.”

“Make it Chinese, then.” One day they’d have to sort out a proper shopping and cooking rota. All these takeaway meals, convenient as they were, weren’t doing him any good.

“Tom! Nice to touch base again.”

Devon DeAngelo looked a little smarter than the last time they’d spoken. He was wearing a grey suit and a shirt and tie.

“Have I got you at a bad time? Are you going out?”

“I’m off to court. Homicide case we worked on. I’ll be glad to get the whole thing out of the way; the damn case was driving me insane—but you know that feeling, I bet. Now it just has to go right in court and I’ll cross my fingers that we get the result we want. The shit will hit the fan if the bastard walks.”

Shades of Fallon there. Calladine understood that feeling very well.

“Anyway, I’ve had your list checked and we can account for all the names, bar six.”

“Six! I don’t think we’re looking for that many—well, I hope we’re not.”

“I’ve emailed them over, plus the DNA profiles for four of them.

If you find any more bodies you’ll have something to check against.

Let me know what you find, then, if necessary, I’ll contact the families and break the bad news.”

“You’ve been a great help, Devon. There’s no way we could have come up with that information so quick. I’ll do my best and get back to you as soon as. Best of luck in court. Hope it works in your favour.”

Calladine closed the Skype window and accessed his email and looked down the list. There were six names—all on Alice’s original list, and all of them missing from home back in the States. As well as the DNA profiles, Devon had made notes beside each name—a brief sketch of their home lives, not good in the main. He wasn’t surprised some of them hadn’t gone back.

“Chinese it is then. Want your usual?” Zoe shouted through. “I think me and Jo will go over to hers for the night—give you and Lydia some space. A little quiet time to sort out your differences.”

“There’s no need. You can both stay; we don’t mind.”

“You speak for yourself, Tom Calladine.” Lydia stood in the kitchen doorway. She’d showered and was wearing a skimpy robe.

“I have a night of wine and debauchery planned for us both, so perhaps it would be better if your daughter was elsewhere.”

Zoe and Jo laughed at that. Why fight it? “See you tomorrow, then!” he called out as they left.

He sent the list to his printer. “I have a little work to do, and by the time I’m finished, the food should have arrived and we can eat.

After that—we’ll see where the night takes us.”

“You know very well where the night will take us, so don’t be coy. You do what you have to while I fix my hair. Keep the food warm when it arrives.”

He’d given Lydia the back bedroom, but she had no intention of using it. After she’d blow-dried her hair, they shared the food and took a bottle of red wine and two glasses up to Calladine’s bedroom.

“I like your house—it’s cosy.”

“You mean it’s small.”

“No, I said cosy. Sort of warm and comforting.” She ran her fingertips down his naked chest. “This bed is cosy too, and I like the way you’ve done the room.”

“It wasn’t me. My mother did most of the decorating in the house, ages ago.”

“Well, I guess it does all look a little dated …”

“Dated!”

“Yes, Tom, dated. Very eighties—or is it even seventies? I mean, just look at the wallpaper and all this furniture. Dark wood, sturdy and very ancient.”

“It suits me. Moments ago you said you liked it. You’ve become a very hard woman to please, Lydia Holden. Time away has done you no good at all.”

“I never saw your place the last time, did I? A girl doesn’t like to be rude, but perhaps you could do with a makeover? I could help.”

“Perhaps—but not yet. We’ve both got too much on.”

“Case giving you trouble?”

“Yep, and a number of other things too. You for instance.” He turned so that he was looking at her full in the face. “I want you to leave the Fallon thing alone. It’s good advice, and for your own safety you should heed it.”

“That is the problem, Tom. I find that people are always giving me advice, mostly what suits them. So I don’t take too much notice. I’m too single-minded, I thought you realised that.”

“Leave Fallon alone, Lydia. He’s a ruthless bastard and he’s going to get what he deserves very soon. I don’t want you being any part of it.”

“So you do know something! Go on, tell me. I won’t write anything—well not yet—but one way or another I intend to find out what I need.”

“Not from me you won’t. This is no joke, Lydia. Fallon’s a killer.

Get in his way and he’ll think nothing of getting rid of you.”

“It’s no use going on at me, Tom. We’re going around in circles.

It’s just so much white noise in my head. All I’m working on is a human interest story, nothing heavy.”

“Nothing to do with Ray Fallon can possibly be described as

‘human interest.’”

“You’re not listening, are you? I need this. I need something big to kick start this new career of mine. After the Handy Man case and what I earned out of the story, I had a sort of epiphany—I realised where the big money is. And more than that, I discovered that I’ve a real talent, Tom. I also have a shrewd idea how much the editors of the bigger papers will pay for an exclusive on Fallon.”

He wasn’t going to win this one. He could only hope that the forensic boys would get the evidence they needed to drag Fallon in and lock him up before Lydia did something stupid.

“Isn’t all this just wasting time, Detective? I’m lying here, naked in your bed, and all you can do is talk work. Not very flattering, Tom Calladine. I want you to make love to me, not talk me to sleep.”

No answer to that. He flicked the switch on the bedside lamp and took her in his arms.

Chapter 20

Day Seven

Calladine left Lydia sleeping. He’d phone her from work and arrange something for later. Spending the night with her had done him the world of good. He was revitalised—the blood was coursing around his veins and he was raring to go. He made himself a couple of sandwiches for lunch and grabbed the envelope from his mother—a quick goodbye to Lydia, and he was gone.

Imogen called to him as he came in, “We’ve had an odd one this morning, sir. Jane Rigby rang—she has our office number from when Cassie was missing. She says her husband didn’t go home last night. What do you make of that?”

Calladine recalled the rather odd couple, and the way they behaved towards each other. Perhaps not getting Cassie back had been the final straw, and he’d left her.

“File the paperwork and pass it on to uniform. They can keep their eyes peeled. Circulate details of his car.”

He nodded to Ruth to follow him into his office.

“I’ve got the information from Devon. Six of them haven’t returned to their homes in the States, so we need to do some digging. Is Alice here yet?”