“Yes, it was all true. I’ve never lied to you about anything. There were just things that…. I couldn’t….”

I trail away…. my supply of words exhausted.

Richard looks at me under lidded eyes. “And in all that time, no-one queried you about the death of this man?”

I almost whisper. “No. And I never dared ask.”

“What was his name?”

“We just knew him as Supervisor Jenkins.”

“And this all happened, when?”

I count backwards. “Er… about nine years ago.”

“And you’ve told no-one about this since then?”

I shake my head.

My Master is staring at me. “Charlotte, why not? Didn’t you feel you could tell me? Didn’t you trust me enough? Or Michael?”

“Oh, I do trust you. I do. Both of you.… but…. but.… I tried, but the words wouldn’t come out. And it was sort of locked away in my head. I never thought about it if I could. Not until I saw that model of the City, and what was happening in my old neighbourhood… then it all started coming back….”

I stand up, gathering my nerves, still trying to control my breathing. Head held high, my chest heaving, I lock eyes with Haswell. “So, what happens now? Have I made myself too much of a nuisance at last? You want me to get my stuff and go?”

He regards me, over steepled fingers.

“No. I want you to call Michael and go with him. I need to talk with James here, make some phone calls.”

He addresses my Master. “You’ve been staying at the beach house?”

“Yes.”

“Get Michael to take her back there. I want to be able to say that I know where she is.”

My Master nods, silently, then calls Michael, talking to him urgently but quietly. Strain as I might, I cannot pick out their words.

Waiting for Michael to arrive, I sit sipping water. Haswell says nothing, simply tapping at his keyboard, reading his screen, occasionally glancing over at me.

My Master paces up and down, not speaking.

I speak quietly, trying to speak only to him. “Master, I’m sorry. I tried to tell you when you asked me at the site, but…. I couldn’t …. I just couldn’t….”

Haswell clearly does hear me, but aside from a quick glance my way, says nothing, I think trying to give us a privacy we cannot have.

My Master’s face twists between compassion, anger, and frustration. “You picked a hell of a way to break your silence, Charlotte.”

I stare at the floor, sipping my water, waiting…

There is a knock, and the door bursts open. It is Michael. He strides straight up to me, scoops me up under the arms, and lifts me into his embrace, rocking me back and forth, face pressed to mine.copy right hot novel pub