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W hen he arrived home, the flat was dark and quiet.

It was only a short walk from the Docks, but he’d taken a detour to the 24-hour gym in the Gloucester Quay’s, for a quick shower. Free membership was one perk of working for Holmes he couldn’t even remember when he’d last charged the phone. God only knew when the thing had died on him.

Had something happened to her? What if she or little Alex had had to be rushed to hospital? What if...

What if something hadn’t happened...

What if she’d got worried because he was so late and tried to call him? What if, when he hadn’t answered, she’d decided to check on him?

Just the prospect sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Had she seen them in the window? He’d been half expecting to get his collar felt the moment he’d left the building. Anyone could have seen and reported them to the police. Or perhaps he just missed her when he left the building and she’d run into Scarlet.

He had to know. He needed to speak to her. Maybe there was still time to – what the fuck!

He flipped on the living room light, about to plug the phone into the charging outlet there, when he heard it. A moan. Low and husky and very familiar.

Then the sound of wood creaking.

Bed springs squeaking

Someone calling.

Calling her name.

Then he was running through the room and down the hall to their bedroom door. A hard kick sent it swinging inward, and he stopped dead, his eyes widening at the sight of the bodies tangled together on the bed.

Alice… and Rebecca!