Page 93 of Glasshouses

He nodded. “I think it’s three separate people.”

Jenna stood up, her glass empty. “I think I’ll have another drink. What about you, Mia?”

I followed her. “I’ve still got this one. I need to see Vinny though. See you later, Ste. I hope you carry on liking Manchester.” We meandered through the crowds, slowed down by people we knew. I didn’t need to see Vinny at all, in fact, I was hoping to avoid him. “Jenna,” I put my hand on her arm. “What’s Ste’s last name?”

“Taylor,” she said. “He’s Stefan Taylor.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

I’d intended to spend at least an hour finding out about our friendly fire investigator, but after showering and washing my hair, admiring the plaster that was adorning the walls of my hall, stairs and landing as well as the amount of dust, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I fell asleep on the sofa, under blankets that Taz had last used, and slept better than I usually did in my own bed.

For once I didn’t dream, or at least I didn’t remember them. Sleep was peaceful; the awakening less so.

I’d put my phone on charge next to me, my alarm set for five-thirty, enough time to get a run in before work. I hadn’t been to the boxing gym for over a week and my muscles were starting to feel sloppy and loose; I wanted to train but was scared of the fallout.

It would have to wait until this case was over.

I woke with a feeling of trepidation, like something was hiding behind a door waiting to jump out at me, and that was exactly what happened.

Somehow, probably because Jenna knew how to adult better than I did, milk was being delivered to my door along with bread and yoghurts. Today was one of the delivery days, which meant I could at least eat cereal or toast.

I didn’t just find milk waiting for me. There was a car on the drive, black, with tinted windows. I didn’t recognise it, but I did recognise the man who got out of the driver’s seat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I was wearing Christmas pyjamas from four years ago, and I was pretty sure my hair was stuck up in more directions than a porcupine’s spines.

“You look cute.”

I was feeling poisonous. “It’s not even half five. Why are you stalking me?”

Taz had the courtesy to look a little deflated. “I escaped my mother’s before she woke up and figured you’d be going for a run. I didn’t want to just let myself in.”

I looked over at the car. “Where’s that from?”

“I’m returning it later. Long story; won’t bore you.” He was already wearing running gear. “Can I get a coffee?”

I opened the door wider and scowled at him. He grabbed the milk and the bread off the step, which watered down my scowl.

“Where were you?”

“Did you miss me?”

I looked away, focusing on stropping down the hallway to the kitchen. “My house did.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. What’s happened with the case?” He went straight to the coffee machine. I sat down at the table and stretched my legs out onto the opposite chair. I had no issue being waited on in my own house.

“It’s getting weirder.”

“Tell me how.” The machine started to grind. Taz found a milk jug, added milk and warmed it in the microwave. We were being posh today.

“How much do you remember?”

“More than you told me.”

I was suddenly awake. “What?”

“I know Lily’s still missing. I know Andrew Smith’s death is being treated as murder. I know there are concerns about how he got the kernmantle rope and who he might work for.” He put a mug of coffee in front of me. “I know I can’t take you seriously when you look like that.”

“Why are you here?”