Page 71 of Break My Rules

“You drove,” I inform him. “Along with a couple of Russian girls. Or maybe they were from Belarus? Anyway, we left you all to it. Looks like they called a car and left before I woke up.”

I feel a shot of guilt at the lies, more bracing than the triple espresso, but what can I do? Better that Max think he spent the night having a crazy, drug-fueled threesome than tied to a chair in the wine cellar, spilling his secrets on truth serum.

“Now that you mention it, I do remember something like that…” Max smirks, as Tessa enters the kitchen. She’s wet-haired from the shower, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe. When she sees Max, she freezes, looking to me anxiously.

“I was just telling Max about his partying, last night. With the two Russian girls?” I add, giving her a look.

“Right!” she blurts, still on edge. “We couldn’t keep up.”

“Hey, like I told your man here, you’ve got to leave it to the experts,” Max crows, looking smug now.

“Don’t you mean, professionals?” I banter back, relaxing now. He clearly doesn’t remember a thing and is buying our story. “Better go check your wallet, mate. Wouldn’t be the first time you got a nasty shock come morning.”

“Shit, you’re right.” Max bolts from the room. A moment later, he calls down to us. “All good! My performance must have been reward enough for them.”

Tessa hurries closer. “He really doesn’t remember?” she asks me quietly.

I shake my head. “Not a thing.”

“Thank God,” she sighs with clear relief.

“You believe him now, that it wasn’t him?” I check. She nods.

“But Saint…” Tessa swallows, meeting my eyes. “He was our last suspect. The last of your friends with that tattoo. If he didn’t do it, then what happens now?”

I don’t have an answer for her. But before I can try and reassure her that we’ll figure it out—together—my phone buzzes with a text. And another. And then a call, too.

Tessa frowns, as I scoop it up. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. It’s from my brother.”

I scan the message. For a terrible moment, I wonder if my father has had another heart attack, but then I see, it’s something else entirely.

“Dr. Valerie DeJonge…” I say slowly, staring at the screen.

“What about her?” Tessa asks.

I look up, shaken. “She’s dead.”

We catch the next available flight back to England, arriving at Heathrow in the early afternoon.

“Do you have any more details?” Tessa asks, as I check my phone again.

I shake my head. “Robert says it was a car accident. That’s all he knows.”

“It’s all so sudden,” she says. “We saw her just a couple of days ago at the Ashford event.”

I squeeze her hand. “Are you sure you have to be getting back to Oxford?” I ask, still concerned about how she’ll handle the new dead-end in our investigation.

But Tessa doesn’t mention it. She just sighs, listless. “I can’t keep missing tutorials and lectures,” she says. “I’ll be surprised if my library pass even works anymore, or if they’ve already revoked my access.”

“I can call the Master of the College, just say the word. He’s a fan,” I add.

Which is why I’m still on unofficial leave from my teaching duties, to help out with my family.

Tessa gives a pale smile. “I’ll let you know how much trouble I’m in. I might have to take you up on that.”

I put her in a car, and then head straight to my parents’ London house in Hampstead to find out more. It’s a large property near the Heath, with gardens that are my mother’s pride and joy. She shows me in, kissing me faintly on the cheek. “It’s such a tragedy,” she says, outfitted in her usual crisp button-down shirt and wide-legged pants. “And when we’re so close to launching the new drug.”

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