Page 45 of Joker in the Pack

Judging by Graham’s reaction, he couldn’t either. At least the forensics team had seemed competent when they dusted for prints this morning. They’d certainly used enough fingerprint powder.

“I understand, and I’m sorry for cancelling at such short notice, but the place is a mess and I’m at my wit’s end cleaning it up.”

“I’ll come and give you a hand.”

“No, really, there’s no need for you to do that.”

“It’s the least I can do. I don’t want you getting the wrong impression of the area. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

Tate surprised me by knocking on what remained of the door twenty-five minutes later. Surprised me because I’d been used to Edward’s timekeeping, and when he said half an hour, I was lucky if he turned up in double that. Emails and phone calls always took precedence.

Tate’s eyes widened as he stepped inside. “I know you said it was a mess, but this… I wasn’t expecting this. It’s outrageous.”

I’d held it together up until then, but when he voiced the indignation I felt, I began shaking. Visions of a black-clad figure prowling through my home took root in my mind, and a tear leaked out and rolled down my cheek.Hold it together, Olivia. I didn’t want to lose it in front of Tate, of all people.

But his expression softened as he picked his way through the debris. “You look like you could use a hug.”

Despair trumped awkwardness as I nodded, and as I stepped forward, I tripped over a stray box and landed right in his open arms.

He held me while I sobbed, and when his jumper became damp from my tears, he handed me a monogrammed handkerchief:TP.

This was ridiculous, crying all over a man when I didn’t even know his surname. I made an effort to pull myself together and levered myself backwards out of his grip, swaying slightly on unsteady feet as I tried to regain my composure.

Tate took me by the elbow. “You need to sit down.”

“I don’t have anything left to sit on.” Both of my kitchen chairs had been left splintered.

“Have you eaten?”

I shook my head.

“In that case, I’m taking you out for a late lunch before we do anything else.”

I tried to protest, but he pressed a finger against my lips.

“You can’t tackle this…” He waved an arm at the hallway. “If your body’s running on empty. You might not feel like eating, but even a little food will help.”

My head knew he was right, even if my body tried to rule it with strong feelings of nausea. Tate half carried me across the hallway then set me on my feet next to the door. Only when I caught a glimpse of myself in the jagged shards of the hall mirror did I come to my senses.

“I can’t go out like this! Look at the state of me.”

His sweet smile would have given me butterflies if my stomach hadn’t been replaced by a cement mixer.

“You look beautiful.”

My cheeks heated. “I don’t want everyone to start gossiping.”

“We’ll go to Middleton Foxford. Nobody knows you there. To them, you’ll just be the pretty girl eating lunch with Fenton Palmer’s son.”

He certainly was charming. “All right. But I can’t stay out for long. I need to sort out the bedroom so I can sleep in it tonight.”

“We’ll have something light, and the service is excellent in Basilico. You do like Italian food?”

“I love it.” I went to pull the door closed and the handle, which had been hanging on by a single screw, fell off in my hand. The tears threatened again. “But I can’t even lock the door. What if someone comes back while we’re out?”

“I’ll call a locksmith. He can fix things up while we have lunch.”

Visions of twenty-pound notes floated before my eyes at the thought of Sunday call-out charges. “I can wait until tomorrow. I’ll drag something up against it tonight.”

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