It damn near killed me to leave Rania yesterday evening. I'd wanted to crawl into bed beside her and hold her for the rest of the night. But I'd done the gentlemanly thing, and when her eyes began to close, I'd tucked her in then backed out of the room and waited for Shannon to come back. Lucky the baby didn't cry, because I wouldn't have had the first clue what to do.

"Is Rania in bed already?" Shannon had asked.

"She was tired."

Shannon wrinkled her nose. Cute, but whereas once my type had been warm and female, I'd refined it lately to something more specific.

"I kind of hoped you'd be in there with her."

At least she got that and was on my side. "That makes two of us, but I get the impression Rania's had a difficult past."

"She has. I think her time in Syria must have been awful. I've seen all the pictures on the news."

"Of Rania?"

"No, of Syria. Rania never talks about the specifics."

"What? Never?"

"Nope. She's... Don't get me wrong, I love that girl to death, but she can be a little...different."

"The ghosts thing?"

"She told you about that?" Shannon sounded surprised.

I nodded. "She mentioned it. You sound as if you don't believe her?"

"Well, it's cr— Not an easy thing to believe."

"How do you explain it?"

"I saw one of those myth-busting programmes once, about mediums. How they're perceptive to their surroundings and use careful statements to make you think they're psychic."

Could that be Rania? I'd thought so at first, but she knew too much. Either she was genuine, or she had better connections than I did and rivalled RJ with her computer skills.

I made a non-committal noise. "One thing that struck me as unusual is that she doesn't spend half her life on social media."

Shannon laughed. "I've tried to get her on Facebook, but she refuses. I guess she doesn't know that many people, so it doesn't matter much to her. And she doesn't even own a computer."

So much for that idea.

"Unusual. Did you get your friend sorted?"

Shannon crinkled her nose again. "I talked her out of the vodka, but she still wants to take a baseball bat to his car. The asshole dumped her by WhatsApp, for crying out loud."

"An asshole indeed. Maybe Rania's right to avoid all that stuff."

"No, she's not. Because you'd never be that callous, would you?"

***

Rania at least had a phone, so I sent her a text message when I woke up. Nothing heavy, just a quick line to say good morning.

I got zilch back.

Which left me stewing as I stood over RJ's shoulder, watching while he tried to break into the Lanefield Park Hotel's computer network.

"You're gonna have to give me time, buddy."

"It's a bloody hotel, not NASA. How difficult can it be?"

"Yes, it's a hotel, but I've had years to finesse my way into the good stuff. Back doors, malware, that kind of thing. You're asking me to go in cold here. Reckon I'll try emailing one of my little worms and see if any of the fish bite."

"And if they do?"

"It'll open a door wide enough for the Trojan Horse to ride in. Look, just call her and put us all out of our misery."

"I don't want to scare her off."

RJ glanced sideways at me. "What happened to the old Will? Mr. 'If the blonde doesn't want to have fun, there's always the brunette'?"

"Rania's different."

"As in 'blows your mind as well as your cock' different?"

"The first part, definitely. No idea about the second."

"You mean you haven't...?"

"No."

"But it's past the third date. That's the chick rule, right?"

"Technically, we haven't had the first date yet."

"Then what have you been doing every evening? You said you were having dinner with her. Was that just a ploy to avoid my skills in the kitchen?"

In the kitchen, RJ had a skill, singular. And I'd only witnessed it once, thankfully, when I'd arrived back earlier than planned one evening and found him fucking a redhead over the counter.

"Aw, honey, I'm just not that kind of guy. And it wasn't a proper date—her flatmate invited me in to eat with them when I dropped her home."

"Threesome? Nice."

"Piss off. You've got sex on the brain. Anyone would think you weren't getting any either."

RJ cleared his throat. "Make me a coffee while I send these emails, would you?"

Bullseye.

***

Rania still hadn't replied when I left for Daylesford Hall at eleven for a pre-scheduled catch-up with Lloyd Weston. Except when I arrived, he was nowhere to be seen, and his secretary adopted a look of panic when I walked in.

"Oh, er, Mr. Lawson! I meant to call you, but I...things... I forgot. Mr. Weston's ill today."

"Nothing serious, I hope?"

"His wife said it was a migraine, but I think it's a broken heart. He hasn't been the same since Helene died."

All of which meant I'd trekked out to Weston Corp early for nothing. I could have stayed at home with good coffee and a handy punchbag in the gym if trawling through online records looking for missing members of the finance team got too frustrating.

But since I was here, I might as well make the best of it.

"Do you have a meeting room I can borrow?"

"I'm sure I can find one."

"And I need to track down the current whereabouts of a few ex-employees. Are you able to help?"

Seeing as the boss was out and he didn't pay her to read magazines about fish, she should have plenty of time.

"I-I-I've only been here for two months."

"Then I'm sure you'll know exactly who to ask for assistance. Mr. Weston's keen to get this case cleared up as soon as possible."

She swallowed hard. "Of course. Just tell me what you need."

By mid-afternoon, my new friend Kayleigh had found me Celia's address from her friend who administrated the company pension scheme, but struck out on Davinder and Claire. From what Arthur said, I'd have been surprised if anyone had kept in touch with the dragon lady.

But no matter. I'd got a lead on Davinder myself, from LinkedIn, and I'd find Claire too. Davinder, it seemed, had grown from his experience at Weston Corp and become the financial controller of a small but successful architecture firm. His offices were just down the road, but when I called, his PA informed me he was at a conference in Newcastle and wouldn't be back until Monday. Who went to a conference in Newcastle? My father always attended forums in Paris or Rome, the events chosen more for their locations than their subject matter.

But still, I'd made some progress, and it turned out Kayleigh made a mean cup of coffee, which was an admirable quality in any woman.

I was on my fifth Americano and wired as hell when my bladder made its objections known. Bollocks. I'd been sitting there for five hours, and Rania would have arrived by now. My knees cracked as I got up and headed for the john.

Except before I got there, I heard a raised voice coming from the room next-door-but-one.

"Leave me alone!"

"Miss Algafari, you realise if you don't provide a satisfactory answer, I'll just keep coming back."

Chris Turner, and he had Rania in there. I'd shoved the door open before I stopped to think about what I was doing.

"Sorry, my mistake, Turner. I heard a distressed female and my mind screamed 'sexual assault.' And we both know how difficult those cases are to prosecute without witnesses, don't we?" The bitterness I carried inside leaked out in my voice, and Rania turned to stare at me.

"Well, obviously there's no assault, so you can get...leave us to continue."

"I'm not continuing," Rania said. "Not when you try using threats over my immigration status to get me to give you answers I don't have."

"Miss Algafari—"

"Are you charging her with anything?" I asked.

"No."

"Taking her to the police station? Because you know she's entitled to a lawyer if you do that. You like to do everything by the book, right?"

"Under the Police and Criminal Evidence Act, I'm entitled to question any person from whom I think useful information can be obtained."

"She's already told you she doesn't know anything."

"And you're obstructing a police officer in the course of doing his duty. Police Act 1996, section 89."

Turner folded his arms, and I wanted to wipe the smug grin off his face.

"Bullshit. I'm merely assisting a member of the public."

"Enough!" Rania said. "I've said over and over that I didn't see Helene Weston cavorting with a man in the evenings. Whether you choose to believe that is up to you, but I'm done here."

She walked out, leaving me with Turner, and I forced myself to unclench my fists before I took a swing at him. If his red face was any indication, he felt the same way.

"Some thanks I get for recommending you for this job, Lawson."

"We both know why you did that."

"Maybe I felt sorry for you after what happened with Marco Renton."

"Right."

"And then Susanna dumped you when you lost your job. That couldn't have been easy."

"I don't care about Susanna anymore."

"Really? But you were engaged to her."

"I've moved on to better things."

Turner looked from me to the door Rania had just walked out of, and I could almost see the wheels turning. He might have been a prick of the first order, but he wasn't totally useless as a detective. Only about ninety percent. Shit.

"Ah, I get it. The cleaner. That's why you came steaming in here to defend her."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Really? Deny it, then."

I couldn't. I might have bent the truth on occasions, but I couldn't lie outright.

Turner gave a mocking laugh. "I must admit, I expected better. Oh, how the mighty fall. You've gone from living it up in high society to slumming it with a refugee."

I came so fucking close to knocking his teeth out. The only thing that stopped me was the strangled sob from outside the door, and I realised Rania had heard the entire conversation. Footsteps receded along the corridor, and I took off after her with Turner's sniggers echoing behind.

"Rania, stop!"

She didn't, and then she pulled that favourite chick trick and ran into the women's toilets.

I stood outside the door and sucked in a breath. They had stalls, right? It wasn't like the men's where we let everything hang out at a urinal. And I knew then that I'd chase that girl to the ends of the earth, so barging into a ladies' restroom wasn't a problem.

Sniffing came from the end stall, and I used my penknife to unlock the door from the outside, praying Rania hadn't decided to take a leak as well as cry. No, she was sitting on the closed toilet lid with a wad of tissues in her hand, and at the sight of her so upset I almost went back outside and sent Turner over the balcony to join Arthur.

"You shouldn't be in here," she said.

"I'll leave when you come with me."

"I can't." Another sniffle. "I'm not going outside like this."

I shoved the door closed behind us and leaned on it, hands in pockets, going for relaxed even though I was wound up tighter than a virgin's pussy.

"Don't listen to Chris Turner. He only said what he said to bait me." And it fucking worked.

The outer door opened and heels clicked across the tile. I couldn't say anything more with an audience, so I took a chance and squeezed Rania's hand in mine, relieved beyond words when she didn't snatch it away.

For goodness' sake, hurry up and pee, woman. What had she been drinking? A bloody river? Finally, the toilet flushed, water ran, then the hand dryer blasted and the interloper pissed off.

"I'm so sorry." What else could I say? Because I was. Sorry Rania had been forced to leave her home, sorry she'd got involved in this case, and sorry men like Chris Turner considered her a second-class citizen.

"It's not that I haven't thought those things about myself... I guess it just stung to hear him say them out loud."

"But he's wrong. You're as much of a person as I am, and more of a person than he is. I am not fucking slumming it." Another tear rolled down her cheek, and I wiped it away with my thumb. "Look, come for dinner with me tonight. Not something Shannon cooked. I want to take you to a fancy restaurant where neither of us has a clue which fork to use and try to decipher the menu with you."

Half a minute went by, and it felt like a lifetime.

Then she shook her head, biting her lip in a way that made my cock twitch even as my heart sank. Will, you sick asshole.

"Can I get out? Please?"

What could I do but let her past?

The door slammed behind her, and I locked myself in the stall again, hoping for some insight into the female mind. What made those grey cells tick? Because right now, between Helene and Rania, I was fucked if I could work it out.