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“You didn’t happen to have any ground-breaking revelations while you slept, did you?” Adam asked, pushing the laptop aside as he took in Murray’s unkempt appearance.

Isabel made a disbelieving sound in the back of her throat. “Cole has a notion that – well, you go ahead.”

Murray didn’t look at Isabel but focused his gaze on Tom, who shifted under its intensity.

“My point still stands about the scent. Fresh-turned soil or dirt, which points to somethin’ outdoors. But what’s more interestin’ is the iron. No just any metal – old, rusted iron. Thatwas the most strikin’ thing,” he paused, thinking. “There was a smudge to the ink too, tells me the writer was left-handed – ye can see it in how the letters slant. And the oil left on the paper from their fingers has a faint smell of some plant or flower. I ken I’ve caught that scent before, but I cannae recall the name.”

Adam twitched, frowning.

“I can smell only the dirt and metal – I couldn’t even identify it as iron specifically,” Isabel added.

“Do you think they have her underground?” Tom asked. “That would explain part of it.”

“The metallic scent would be too dispersed in an open space,” Isabel leaned on the desk by Tom and folded her arms. “Even for Nicholas to track. Underground, the air is trapped, stale – scents build up and linger.”

“A storage unit maybe? Or a garage?” Tom suggested.

“It’s a possibility,” Isabel nodded. “Unfortunately, the two scents seem to contradict one another.”

Adam set the laptop aside and caught Tom’s eye. “As it happens, we have a theory too.”

Isabel and Murray regarded him expectantly, but he shook his head.

Adam pocketed the diary and led them from the library. They crossed the hall and climbed the spiralling staircase, emerging through heavy double doors into a bedroom. The faint scent of vanilla and woodsmoke had followed them up from Adam’s kitchen below. Tom glanced at the sewn-shut curtains that blocked what must have been a view of the manor grounds, wondering who slept here.

“Why are we—” Nicholas broke off with a dismissive gesture and dropped into a desk chair.

Adam was already rummaging in a box at the bottom of the oak wardrobe that filled the left wall. He emerged a moment later with a fabric-bound notebook about the size of his hand.

“How did you ken that was there?” Nicholas frowned at him.

“There are no secrets in my house, Nick.” He lay the book on the desk, letting it fall open naturally to the centre page, where the spine had worn through. Pressed into the paper was a stalk of once-purple flowers Tom didn’t recognise. The faded brown ink of the handwriting beneath was too pale to make out, but the distinctive leftward slant matched the note perfectly. He could still smell the faint perfume of the blossom as Adam placed Murray’s diary beside it.

“Who did this book belong to?” Adam asked curtly. “And the flower?”

Murray stared at the book without speaking, his face unyielding.

“Nick?” Isabel asked.

“A comrade,” he answered finally. “But I dinnae see what this has to do with Erin.”

“I think you do. To whom does this belong?” Adam repeated.

“Someone I served with. Another man I couldnae save.”

“Do you keep stuff from all the people you kill, Murray?” Tom asked, inspecting the book.

“I didnae say I killed him,” He shot him a bitter look. “Though I may as well have.”

Tom snorted but seated himself on the steamer chest at the end of the bed. If Murray was about to start on a long, woeful tale, he may as well be comfortable for it.

“Did you meet him in Paris?” Adam asked quietly.

“On the outskirts, so no really. I spent time with him there, but as I said, he’s dead. He’s been dead since the war, and therefore he’s no relevant.” A shadow crossed his face.

Isabel gave Adam a questioning glance. He gave her a dark smile in return.

“Let me fill you in, Izzie. Nick and I had a bit of a falling out in Paris – perhaps you remember that part? Nick found himself a replacement wingman, if you will, since he needed a lodger. Eventually he… presumably kicked him out of the apartment? Or did he walk out on you, as I did?” He looked to Murray for confirmation, who nodded.