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“Th-th-thanks.” The idea I could have been an unwitting participant in framing Beau left me shaking, but not as much as the fear that somebody had watched our most intimate moments.

“I did warn you.”

“I know, but I just didn’t expect...”

“You really cared about him, didn’t you?”

“I l-l-loved him. I still do. Whoever killed Angie didn’t just steal my sister; he stole the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with as well.”

“Why all the secrecy?”

“Mother.”

“Ah.”

I didn’t need to say any more. I could tell by Emmy’s eyes that she understood.

“She’d have cut me off the instant she found out I chose Beau over Gregory, and I needed to buy some time for us to make plans.”

“I get it; I really do, and Blackwood’s goals are the same as yours. Every single one of us wants to see this bastard burn. Is there anything you can tell us, anything else at all that would help? Even if you don’t think it’s important, it might turn out to be.”

At her kind words, the dam holding back my tears burst and I dissolved in her arms. No matter what I did, I couldn’t stop crying.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

If I told her Ben’s true identity, would Blackwood tell the police? They said they wouldn’t, but so many people had lied, I didn’t know who to believe anymore. I had visions of Ben being hunted with dogs through the streets of London, then thrown in a jail cell.

“Shhh, it’s okay. There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“Look, you’ve had enough upset today. Let’s get the funeral over with tomorrow and then we can talk, okay? That’ll give you time to consider things.”

“Really?”

“I realise how important Beau is to you.”

“I’ll do anything to help the man I love.”

“That’s something I can understand.”

23

The day of the funeral dawned dark and grey, and the thought of Angie’s last day being filled with drizzle rather than the sunshine she’d brought into my life made me cry again in the shower as I washed away yesterday’s tears.

When I got into the living room wearing a black dress and ballet pumps, I found Emmy already dressed in a charcoal trouser suit, expensive from the cut of it, but her choice of footwear made me do a double take.

“They’re in case I have to run,” she explained when she caught me looking at the black trainers. “But I’m really hoping I don’t have to do that.”

“Has that ever happened before? At a funeral, I mean?”

“Only once.”

“Oh my goodness. Who? Why?”

“A father showed up at his daughter’s funeral, only he’d violated his bail bond. I ended up chasing him across the cemetery until he tripped and fell into a freshly dug grave.”

“A grieving father? You arrested a grieving father?”

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