Dan didn't drive as fast as I would have, but on the plus side, she didn't total my car and traffic was mercifully light, so we still made good time. On the way, I gave Nick a call to see what was happening at his end.

"Have you sorted out the logistics?"

"More or less. We found someone in the investigations division who looks enough like Luke that we could use him as a decoy, but Luke's determined he's doing the drop himself. He says he's not taking any chances with Tia's life."

"So he'd rather risk his own as well?"

After his idiotic trip to the woods, why did that surprise me?

"I can't change his mind, and believe me, I've tried."

More than once, I'd seen Luke's stubborn side. He'd be doing the drop whether we liked it or not.

"Right, we're on damage limitation, now."

"Understood. We also need to come up with £1 million in cash. Again, Luke's insisting. He doesn't want to risk pissing this guy off if anything goes wrong and he gets away with the ransom. He says he'll cover it."

"He's good for the money, but I wasn't planning on letting this arsehole get away for a second time. That cash will be coming back, one way or another."

"Any ideas where we can get £750,000 in used bills without having to bribe a bank manager?"

I gave Nick the code for a safe in the basement that contained enough to make up the million. It was the least I could do after the shit I'd pulled with Luke. My husband had always liked to keep a quantity of cash on hand for emergencies, and I'd say this qualified.

Once Nick had repeated the code back to me, I updated him on our progress, and we both felt it was best not to get Luke involved in my end of things. He had enough on his plate already without having to deal with the havoc I was undoubtedly about to wreak at his old home.

"Oh, and Nick, whatever you do, don't let him answer the phone to his mother if she calls. He doesn't need her hysterics on top of everything else."

"Got it. I'll make sure his phone stays with me."

I received one more call on the way. Jason called to say a speed camera caught the kidnapper's van doing thirty-seven in a thirty limit on the outskirts of Bromley two days ago. South London again, and not too far from where the ransom note was posted. Together with the initial theft of the plates, that made three connections with the area.

We had to be on the right track, didn't we?

As Dan and I neared Lower Foxford, I kept half an eye on the cars she was slicing past and focused the rest of my thoughts on what to say to Luke's mother. How did I get the information I needed without alerting her to the fact Tia had disappeared? I foresaw hysterics if she found out, swiftly followed by a call to the police, and if I gagged her and tossed her in the closet, that might be taking things a step too far. Once again, I decided to lie through my teeth. I already knew I was going to hell—at this point, it was go big or go home.

Dan slewed to a halt in front of the Halston-Cain family residence, covering the front porch in a hail of gravel. I hopped out and rang the bell.

Mrs. Squires answered the door, looking as if she was sucking a lemon. If someone gave her the gin to go with it, she might loosen up a bit. Her expression didn't change as she showed me into the formal sitting room with all the enthusiasm of a stripper in the Arctic.

"Madam will be with you shortly."

Fantastic. I could hardly wait.

Luke's mother swanned in a few minutes later. As usual, she was perfectly attired, and her face screwed up in disgust as she registered me sitting on her Laura Ashley sofa. Guess she didn't appreciate my jogging outfit.

"You're Luke's little friend, aren't you? I'm sorry; I don't remember your name?"

"It's Ash."

"Oh, yes, like the leftovers from a bonfire. How appropriate. What can I do for you?"

Bitch.

"Luke asked me to come. A man claiming to be his brother turned up on the doorstep this morning, and as you can imagine, that was a bit of a shock. Right now, he doesn't know what to believe."

How would she react?

"Well, that's just ridiculous. Luke doesn't have a brother. I hope he sent the man away with a flea in his ear."

I could almost swear she was telling the truth. She didn't hesitate as she answered, and her eyes remained fixed on mine, narrowed slightly because she was pissed off rather than shifty.

"That's what I said at first, but this guy looks so much like Luke he reckons he's telling the truth. He's quite upset."

Quite upset. Got to love the British penchant for understatement.

"For goodness' sake, tell him he's mistaken."

On the way over, I'd had a graphics wizard on the marketing team put together a mock-up of the suspect standing in Luke's living room, and he'd done a remarkably good job. Suspect number one glowered back from among the chintz as I pulled the photo up on my phone screen and handed it over.

Mrs. H-C leaned forward, squinting, then huffed.

"Well, I'll admit there's a similarity, but that's all it is. A similarity. I think I'd remember having a third child, don't you?" She focused back on me, her eyes tiny slits. "Why are you here, anyway? Did you get lost on the way back to your street corner?"

So far, I'd done my best to be semi-polite, what with it being Luke's mother and all. But now the gloves were off.

"Why am I here? Isn't it obvious? Luke reckons you've been hiding things from him, and he's so furious he can't even bring himself to speak to you."

"Nonsense. Luke would never stop speaking to me. I'm his mother."

She fetched her own phone from her handbag, and I suppressed a smile as she dialled Luke. I just about managed to keep a straight face as she got cut off once, twice, three times. Thanks, Nicky.

"I don't understand," she said, glaring at the screen.

Time for some fun.

"So if the kid isn't yours, who else was your husband screwing? Some sweet little piece who gave him what you couldn't? Because having breathed the same air as you for a few minutes, I can see why he'd look elsewhere."

Come on lady, get angry. Let something slip.

"You nasty little trollop! I gave my husband everything he needed. He knew I was the best he'd ever get, and he'd never have swapped someone with my breeding for a slut. Now, get out of my house!"

"Even heifers have a pedigree. That doesn't mean men want to fuck them."

My cheek stung where she slapped me, and I resisted the urge to pound her face into the coffee table.

"Get out! Just get out!" she screeched. "My husband only had eyes for me."

She shoved me towards the hallway, heels clacking on the wooden floor. Dammit! She genuinely seemed to believe what she was saying, which meant we needed to come at this problem from a different angle.

As I neared the door, it opened before me. Mrs. Squires held the handle, a self-satisfied smirk spread across her ferrety face. A smirk mixed with smugness—she'd clearly heard every word.

But something was missing. Surprise.

What had Tia told me about Mrs. Squires a while back? Her voice played over in my head: I'm sure she's only around because she has too much dirt on Mother to fire.

She knew! The old dragon fucking knew.

Instead of walking out the front door, I turned right into another sitting room, this one decorated in muted shades of green and peach. Kind of like the vomit one saw outside a nightclub offering 2-for-1 shots on a Friday evening.

"Where are you going?" dragon-lady asked. "Mrs. Halston-Cain told you to leave."

"I thought we'd have a chat first."

"I have nothing to talk to you about."

Her tone was haughty, but she refused to meet my eyes. Worried about something?

"Yes, you do. All I want are the names, and then I'll leave."

"I'm not telling you anything."

"Fair enough. But if you don't spill, I'll unleash so much shit on you that it'll make your nightmares seem like a happy place. I'll have a team of investigators rake through your entire life, and when they find out who you've been blackmailing, and why, and how much for, I'll tear you apart for it. With tweezers." I said it with a smile, but my tone stayed icy. "And I'll take pleasure in every moment."

Please let my guess be right. From what Tia had said, there must be some blackmail involved somewhere.

But the dragon only laughed. "What makes you think you can do any of that? Mrs. Halston-Cain told me you were just a stable girl."

"Mrs. Halston-Cain has no clue who I am. See the Aston Martin out there?"

I pointed through the window. Dan was sitting on the bonnet, looking bored, her skirt short enough to cause a scandal in Lower Foxford. Mrs. Squires followed my gaze.

"Does that look like the kind of car a stable girl would drive?" I asked. "No? You'd better believe I can make good on that promise."

Ah, a flicker of fear. Now we were getting somewhere.

"Did you know that under the Theft Act 1968, section 21, the maximum sentence for blackmail is fourteen years? Wonder what the food's like in prison?"

She swallowed hard and took a step back.

"If I tell you what I know, you promise you'll leave me alone?"

Wow. That was easier than I thought. Guess it was true that bullies were just cowards in disguise.

"Sure. Brownie's honour." Just in case, I kept my fingers crossed behind my back. I felt no loyalty to the snivelling woman in front of me. "Talk."

"I don't know much. Mr. Halston-Cain had several affairs over the years, but the woman who gave birth to his child was named Fiona. I remember her coming to the house one day while she was pregnant. Mr. H wanted her to have an abortion."

"Nice."

"They had a huge argument, and Mr. Halston-Cain said he wanted nothing more to do with her. He accused her of trying to trap him, and judging by the look of her, he was right. Common as muck, that girl was. He said he'd give her money each month, but if she ever tried to contact him again, the payments would stop. That was more than generous if you ask me."

"What was her last name?"

"I don't know."

I took a step closer, feeling satisfaction as she cowered. "Fucking tell me."

"I don't know, I swear."

"How long ago did it happen?"

She shrunk before my eyes. "Right before Luke's birth. Odd how Mr. H managed to get two women pregnant at the same time."

What a prick. Mrs. Squires glanced towards the door, looking for a way out. Tough shit. She could leave when I'd finished with her.

"Where did Fiona live?"

"Not around here. London, I think."

South London, by any chance? All roads led to the city. I didn't bother bidding the dragon goodbye as I strode out to the car, already planning our next move. Dan had the engine started by the time I pulled the door open.

"Where to, kemosabe?"

"London. We're going back to London."

Four and a half hours until the ransom drop. I'd filled Dan in, and now my stomach grumbled because I'd missed lunch. But I had no time to think about food. I needed Mack instead.

Except Mack didn't answer, and my call got transferred to her assistant.

"Can you put me through to Mack? Where is she?"

"Emmy? I can't believe you're back. We've all missed you."

Guilt. Trip. "I've missed you too. Where's Mack?"

"On a plane. We've got a data issue at the LA office, and she had to fly there pronto. Something about a drive failure."

Bloody marvellous. "How about Nate? Is he there?"

Nate—Mr. Gadget himself—came a close second in the hacking stakes. A few seconds later, he picked up, and I didn't waste time with small talk.

"I've got a lead. I need to find a woman called Fiona with a son born around the same time as Luke."

"Do you have any idea how many women called Fiona there are in England?"

"Narrow it down to South London."

"That doesn't help much, Em. Why couldn't you have a suspect called Esmeralda or Persephone?"

"I'll bear that in mind next time I go after a kidnapper. Could you just start looking?"

Keys clicked in the background. "Already am."

"Thanks, Nate. I'll get back to you when we have something more."

Next, I called the incident room and asked Nye to cross-reference the name Fiona and the approximate age of her son with the records in our database. Could the name have popped up somewhere previously?

As Dan crunched through the gears, I was so deep in thought I barely cringed. How could we find one Fiona in thousands? I began to fear Nate was right and this was a lost cause. Should I change the plan and go to the drop site instead?

Traffic ground to a halt, and I cursed under my breath. Bloody road works. Six men in hi-vis standing around drinking tea, and not a shovel in sight.

The car lurched forward and Dan stomped on the brake, stopping mere inches from the car in front. Why had I let her behind the wheel again?

"Don't kill my car. I love this car."

She jerked her head sideways. "At least we're in the right place for a funeral."

I stared past her at the old church, complete with grimacing gargoyles glowering down from its grey stone walls. Such a contrast in London beside the glass-fronted office buildings and blocks of flats. The graveyard formed a tiny green oasis in the sea of concrete, and for a brief moment, I envied the dead their tranquillity.

Then it hit me.

The dead.

I called Nate again, drumming my fingers on the dash as the phone rang on speaker. Pick up.

"Missing me already?"

"Nate, try dead Fionas."

"What? Start from the beginning."

"I reckon Fiona might be dead."

"What? How'd you work that one out?"

Beside me, Dan let out a whoop. "Of course! The son's got to be Luke's age, and why start this campaign when he's in his thirties? Why not five years ago? Ten, even. Something triggered it."

I gave Dan a high-five. "And that something might have been the death of his mother. They had to have been close for her to tell him who his real father was."

Nate gave a low whistle. "You know, you could be right. I'm on it."

The second I got back into the office, I began putting a team of my own together. If we found an address, the best time to pay a visit would be this evening when we knew the kidnapper would be out leading Nick, Luke, and the rest of their gang on a merry dance.

I chose Dan, of course, plus another four men from the UK office to assist. Six would be enough to search a building. Now all we needed to do was locate the damn property.

Nick called at five. "We're leaving for the drop point."

Luke had three tracking devices sewn into his clothes and another two in the bag with the ransom. We'd given him an earpiece to keep in contact with the team, and he took his phone as backup. The kidnapper's message had told him to go to a shopping centre in Sydenham, South London and await further instructions.

Half an hour later, my phone rang as I paced the control room.

"Nate, tell me you've got good news."

"Three possibilities for the woman. I'm looking for pictures of the sons."

It wasn't long before he started firing emails at me. The first photo was a bust—the guy was too chubby, grinning into the camera with a big dimple in his chin. Nothing like Luke, and another fifteen minutes wasted.

But we struck gold with son number two.

"That's him," I told Nate. "Simon Howard."

I scanned through the background information as Nate plucked it out of cyberspace. Simon had been born to Fiona Howard just eight days before Luke came into the world.

Which made a certain amount of sense.

"First-born son," Nate muttered.

"No wonder he's got a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas."

Simon's life had not been one of privilege. He'd grown up in a ground-floor maisonette not too far from JJ's, an area I knew all too well and not one conducive to an idyllic childhood. In his teens, he'd attended the local state school, where he'd passed his exams despite a poor attendance record, excelling in computer studies and electronics before going on to study computer science at university. Had he been aware of his father's identity at that point? Was he trying to emulate him? Or seek his approval? If that had been his plan, it hadn't worked, because Luke still ended up as the golden boy. That must have stung.

"Address, Nate?"

"Flat 403, Shelton House, which looks like a block of flats in Bromley. On a side road just off the high street."

Nate pulled up the satellite photo onto the screen. Simon lived in the middle of a heavily built-up estate, his block one of four that surrounded a patch of scrubby grass. What were there plenty of in that area? Pedestrians. And what was missing? Car parking spaces. Flat 403 would be on the fourth floor—how would Howard have got Tia up there? Wheeled her through the streets in a shopping trolley then shoved her into the lift?

"No good. Try the mother?"

It was six thirty by the time Nate came back with the news that Fiona Howard had lived in a small, detached house in a quiet cul-de-sac in Lewisham.

"I can't find a record of it being sold since her death."

I couldn't help smiling. "Fifty bucks says that's where Tia is."

"No way I'm taking that bet."

My team was already packed and ready to go, so within two minutes, we were in the back of a specially modified van, ready for our eight-mile trip from the office to Lewisham.

As we sped through darkened streets, a surge of adrenaline rushed through me. I'd tried to convince myself I could live a normal life, but the truth was, I'd felt dead inside. Now I was ready to face the darkness again.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends. Once more.

Because this was who I was.