I stare at the papers Richard pushes at me: old headlines. “By the time they’d pulled out what was left of him,” he says, “a stab wound inflicted by a fourteen-year-old girl would have been the least of his injuries. Certainly, it didn’t show up in the autopsy report.”

I digest that. He continues, “Witnesses at the time reported him, apparently giving chase to a young girl, a redhead. There was a search for you.” He holds up another sheet. I stare out at myself from a much younger face, ginger, freckled and gawky.

He looks at the photo. “I have to say, Charlotte, that you have bloomed since then...” Then he looks at me over his glasses, critically, “Although you need to eat. You’ve lost weight in the last couple of days…. What happened to the knife?”

“I threw it over the bridge into the river.”

“Mmm.... Anyone’s guess then, where it is now. We’ve dredged that section since then. Could even be part of the pilings for the new bridge.

He picks more papers out of the flurry still issuing from the printer, again pushing them towards me.

“This report, which, by the way, you have not seen, is from the police files. Although Jenkins died at the time, when the story broke about the home, some months later, it was found that he had been one of the leaders of a group trafficking in youngsters for purposes of prostitution….”

He pauses. “Do you want to see anymore?”

“Um, no, not right now. Don’t think I could handle it just yet. Later perhaps.”

“I’ll have all the information I have sent to you, and James of course.” He glances over at my Master, who is browsing his way through the assorted papers, reading, his expression impassive.

Realisation washes over me. My breath shuddering with relief, “Oh, God. It’s over. It’s over.”

“Yes, it’s over. The police may want to interview you, but they are not interested in giving you a hard time. It’s perfectly clear that you were a victim, not a perpetrator.”

Shaking, my breath is short. My head won’t take it in. Michael tries to hold me, but I twist free. “Mr Haswell, how can I ever thank you enough?”

Jabbing a finger towards my Master. “You can make sure I get my money’s worth out of him, for a start.” But he is smiling, and my Master nods a brief smile in return.

Then he turns back to me. “Take a few days off. Get yourself together again. Then I want you back in my office, Monday morning, ten am. Yes?”

I nod. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have enough words to thank you.copy right hot novel pub