Sam washed the blood off her knives and disinfected them, saw that the autopsy suite had been cleaned to her satisfaction, everything gleaming and sparkling, then headed to her office to do some paperwork.

She woke her computer and checked her email, was happy to see a note from Taylor. That girl. Foolhardy and headstrong, running off to Scotland without a thought to Memphis Highsmythe’s “estate.” Sam knew it was more than that; she’d Googled the man months ago, when he popped onto the scene and made a play for Taylor’s affections. There was tons of information about Memphis online. About his family, and his wife’s sad death. The castle itself had its own web page.

She knew Taylor would have never bothered to look that deeply into Memphis. It would have felt like a betrayal to her. She was committed to Baldwin, wouldn’t waste time wondering what might have been with another man. Like looking up an old boyfriend on Facebook, just to see what he was up to. That wasn’t the kind of thing Taylor did. She lived in the now, not in the past.

Sam knew her girl might walk a thin line with Memphis, but she’d never cross over. Whether Memphis could be trusted not to try and force her into it was another matter.

She clicked the email open.

Dear Sam,

I’ve landed safely. Memphis met me at the airport and spirited me away early, so I’m writing you from Dulsie Castle. I guess I never really thought about what Memphis’s life might be like over here, but trust me, this place is unbelievable. It’s huge. All stone and fireplaces and gorgeous furniture. And the food, Lord, the food. Cook did a seven-course meal for us tonight, with ridiculously expensive wine. I know, I know, I’m not supposed to be drinking, but a little bit of wine won’t hurt.

Memphis has been very kind, and very good. No hanky-panky. Which is nice. I was a little worried he’d be pushy, and he’s not. We talked after dinner, and he told me some of the castle’s history, including this gruesome ghost story about the Lady in Red. I promptly fell asleep and had a terrible nightmare. Which is why I’m awake and writing you.

I still can’t speak more than a couple of words at a time, but I’m meeting with Memphis’s therapist friend in the morning. We’ll see how that goes.

Any word on our hit-and-run?

Love you, so much.

Taylor

Sam shook her head. Taylor was a bright woman, but sometimes she could be so hopelessly obtuse. Of course Memphis was behaving himself. Like the spider to the fly. Make the web look safe, attack when weakness appears.

She didn’t know why she disliked him so much. Outside of the fact that Taylor was finally, after all these years, settled and happy, and the first thing that happened was this interloper.

Oh, well. Taylor was a big girl. She’d have to make her own mistakes.

Sam typed quickly. She wanted to go home, see the twins. See Simon. She’d make a nice dinner, open a bottle of wine. She’d been married long enough to recognize that she was being too concerned with Taylor’s relationship, and not enough with her own.

Hi, Taylor,

Glad to hear that you’re in safe. Everything is fine here. We’re getting more snow tonight—can you imagine? So much for global warming.

Remember when we were girls, and it used to snow all winter long? We’d go sledding on the big hill in Percy Warner Park, or ice-skate on the pond behind my folks’ place. We’d come in frozen to the bone, our hands so cold we could barely move our fingers, and your mom used to have Mrs. Mize make us hot chocolate. She’d pretend not to listen to us giggle. I don’t know if you ever noticed her, standing at the edge of the kitchen, watching us have fun. Kitty always seemed so sad, even back then. Before she grew bitter.

Wow, that was a step into the way-back machine.

I’m hoping to have some time to take the twins sledding tomorrow.

Our hit-and-run got more interesting today. Her name is Marias González. She had a marked bill in her pocket. Blue dye. Your brilliant young detective Marcus thinks she’s involved in the Regretful Robber case somehow. It’s a good thought. He’s really coming along.

I’ll let you know more when I find it out.

In the meantime, young lady, you continue to behave yourself. Beware of Viscounts bearing gifts, and all that. Or is that Greeks?

Love you too,

Sam