Page 67 of Carbon

“Why our custody and not the cops?” Dev asked.

“Personal reasons.”

“Who’s the client?”

Black appeared to mull that over for a few seconds. “I’ll keep that to myself for now.”

“W-w-what did Beau do?” I asked. I hated to draw attention to myself, but at the same time, I needed to know.

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

A non-answer that only made me worry more.

“So, what’s the plan, boss?” Emmy asked.

“At the moment, Davies holds all the cards. We don’t have a photo of him, and we don’t know anything about his background, only that he took off on a cherry-red motorcycle, which might be a Kawasaki or a Honda.”

“Or a Suzuki,” Nye put in.

“Or a Suzuki. But this case has been all over the TV, so he’s got limited places to hide.”

I’d carefully avoided all media coverage. Dorothy had told me the literary world was devastated by the loss of Sapphire Duvall, so much that they’d even opened an online book of condolence that had collected over thirty thousand names. And Father kept mentioning the news, even when I asked him not to. Apparently, the police were asking anyone with suspicions about a recently arrived stranger to call a special hotline.

“Even without his face being broadcast, there’s a good description, and any man travelling alone is going to raise suspicions,” Black continued. “In a way, the cops have been victims of their own success—over fifteen thousand people have called their tip line, and they don’t have the manpower to follow up all the leads properly.”

“Have we got access to their results?” the stranger without the beard asked. His accent was odd, and I couldn’t place it.

Luke spoke from behind his laptop. “Right here. They’re up to fifteen and a half thousand now, and it’s increasing by a hundred every hour.”

“We need to think smarter,” Nye said. “If you were on the run, where would you head?”

“From the UK? Egypt,” Emmy said, at the same time as the dark-haired girl piped up with, “Venezuela.”

“I’m already cross-referencing flight manifests from the UK to all non-extradition countries,” Luke announced.

“And if you stayed in the UK? City or country?” Nye asked.

“The city,” Emmy said.

“Why? When youwereon the run, didn’t you pick the countryside?”

My ears pricked up. Emmy had been on the run?

“Yes, because I had agencies from the CIA to Interpol hunting for me, and I knew they’d tap into the CCTV networks. Facial recognition software is both a blessing and a curse. But Davies doesn’t have that problem because we don’t have a picture of him, and village communities are too close-knit. If he turned up alone, four hundred little old ladies would be gossiping within the hour. Trust me on that.”

Luke chuckled. “Yeah, I still remember the rumours circulating in Lower Foxford about you running over your ex’s new girlfriend.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk. Didn’t they reckon you got a swimwear model pregnant?”

Black glowered at both of them. “Do you think we could avoid a rehash of your past dalliances?”

“Whatever.” Emmy rolled her eyes at him, but he’d turned to the screen where a large-scale map of the British Isles had appeared.

“What about Davies’s friends?” Dev asked.

Nye shook his head. “The staff at Shotley Manor said he never had visitors and rarely left the estate.”

“How about that girl in the village?” Dev glanced at his notes. “Jade Bosley claims he assaulted her.”

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