better hurry or there’ll be riots below decks.”
He watched Kit and the dogs out the door, then went back into the kitchen, trying to remember where he’d seen an onion and some garlic for the spaghetti sauce. He would get the hang of this, he thought, with a little practice.
“The yellow bowl to the right of the sink,” said Gemma, and grinned at him.
“How did you—”
But before he got any further, her phone rang. He knew, even before she answered, what the call was.
While she retrieved the mobile from beneath Kit’s schoolwork, Kincaid shooed Toby from the room. “Go put your jammies out on the bed,” he said. “You can have the skull ones, for Halloween.”
Then he detached Charlotte from Gemma’s leg, hefting her onto his hip. “If you’re really, really good,” he whispered in her ear, “we’ll play airplane after dinner. Or maybe before,” he amended, thinking perhaps that flying a child upside down after spag bol was not the best idea.
“Before,” said Charlotte firmly, for entirely different reasons.
“Oh, hi, Mark, how are you?” Gemma was saying. She sounded pleased but a little uncertain.
Mark Lamb, Kincaid thought. Gemma’s boss, and his old police-college mate. They’d made Lamb emissary.
Gemma was listening, nodding, but her face had gone very still.
“I’ll read you a story after dinner, then,” Kincaid murmured to Charlotte.
“Alice?”
“Alice always.” He wondered how soon he would know the entire book by heart. “Always Alice.”
Charlotte giggled and buried her face against his shoulder.
“Right,” said Gemma into the phone. She was looking at him now, her brows lifted in surprise. “That’s too bad,” she responded to the faint voice issuing from the mobile’s speaker. “But of course I’ll be glad to help out. Right. Lambeth. Tomorrow morning. First thing. Thanks, sir. I’ll see you, then.”
Gemma clicked off, then stood with the phone still in her hand, staring at it with a stunned expression.
Then she looked up at Kincaid, and the smile lit her face like a sunrise.
“I’ve got a new job,” she said.
Acknowledgments
Books are a little like children—it takes a village to make one, and my village spans the Atlantic.
Many thanks to all who have provided help, support, and encouragement on both sides of the Pond, but especially to:
The staff, crew, and members of Leander Club, Henley-on-Thames, particularly Kerry Smith, Mariam Lewis, Nick Aitchinson, Paul Budd, and Graham Hall, all of whom were unfailingly generous with their time, hospitality, and advice.
A very special thanks to Steve Williams, OBE, two-time Olympic gold medalist and former captain of Leander, who not only gave me insight into the life and mind of an elite rower but risked life and limb by taking me out on the Thames in a rowing shell. It was an experience I will never forget, and the book is much the better for it.
Ian Richardson is responsible for introducing me to Leander; Rosalie Stevens, for touring me around Barnes —a huge thanks to you both.
For assistance with K9 Search and Rescue, I owe much to Susannah Charleson for her patience in answering my questions in the early stages of the book. Daryl and Niki Toogood of Berkshire Search and Rescue (with treats and wags to Guinness and Scrumpy) gave invaluable help and advice—as well as letting me practice being a victim and handling a search dog. Hugs to you both.
And then there are the first-line readers and brainstorming crew, all deserving of medals: Kate Charles, Marcia Talley, Julie Gerber, Diane Hale, Tracy Ricketts, Barb Jungr, Steve Ullathorne, and especially Gigi Norwood, who should get a gold medal for her patience, support, and encouragement. You all made the book possible.
Laura Maestro’s map has brought Henley charmingly to life and added a special dimension to the book.
And I am, as always, grateful for the support and encouragement of my agent, Nancy Yost; my editor, Carrie Feron; and all the team at HarperCollins who continue to do such a wonderful job on the books.
And last but not least, love and thanks to my husband, Rick, and my daughter, Kayti, for being there.
All the characters and events portrayed in this book are entirely fictional, and any mistakes are entirely my own.
About the Author
A native Texan who has lived in both England and Scotland, DEBORAH CROMBIE is a three-time Macavity Award winner, an Edgar Award nominee, and a
Books by Deborah Crombie
