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together.
    Huh! What’s a girl supposed to do to entertain herself when she’s so far from home? She was bored, and Aiden was available.
    The company, keen to impress the clients, provided them with a penthouse suite in the heart of the city. It served as an office as well as somewhere to conduct important conferences. It also had two separate bedrooms, one of which was abandoned a few times when her strategy to seduce him succeeded. His initial protests about his silly little wife in Ten Cent Dump had been easily brushed aside.
    It was all temporary, anyway. Martha didn’t want to stay in the UK, she missed the razzle-dazzle and energy of New York City.
    It had taken a year of hard work, but they’d won the contract which had earned them both a great deal of money in bonuses. If only she hadn’t made that one stupid mistake…
    But even that had turned out hunky-dory in the end.
    Hadn’t it?
    Better than okay. Gee, Aiden had handed her even more dollars to keep her quiet. She smiled as she thought of her extremely healthy bank balance.
    Yep, she’d done the right thing accepting it.
    Hadn’t she?
    aaaaa
    Tufty, the Cooper’s scruffy brown and white dog, jumped up excitedly and wagged his stumpy tail in welcome.
    “Ah, you’re back, good timing,” said Sally Cooper to her husband.
    She opened the oven door and slid the piping hot shepherd’s pie out. It was golden brown and slightly crispy on the top. Perfect.
    “Dinner’s ready. Did you enjoy yourself? Relax a bit?”
    “Thanks, yes,” said Stan as he washed his hands and splashed water on Sally’s clean floor. “I had a good chat with Angus behind the bar, but unfortunately, he hasn’t heard anything. My, that pie smells good.”
    Before he had the chance to sit down, the phone rang. Stan and Sally looked at each other. Phone calls at that time of night were not good news. It usually meant that the call had been diverted from the police station next door, and something needed urgent attention.
    “I’ll get it,” said Stan heavily, and lifted the receiver. “PC Cooper here, how can I help you?”
    “Ah, Stan, it’s Aiden Martin here, Abigail Martin’s husband.”
    “Good evening, sir.”
    He waited. Often people needed a moment to collect themselves before speaking to the police.
    “Stan, I’ve just got back from London expecting Abigail to be here, but there’s no sign of her. The house is empty, except for baby stuff. I phoned Daisy Grainger and she doesn’t know where my wife is, and she wouldn’t tell me anything. She told me to get the story from you.”
    “Right, sir.”
    Stan looked at the shepherd’s pie waiting for him, then at Sally poised with the serving spoon.
    “Do you think you could wait half an hour? The thing is, I haven’t eaten yet. I’ll just have a quick bite then I’ll cycle up to you. If Mrs Martin turns up in the next half hour, give me a call.”
    He nodded at Sally, and the serving spoon descended, digging into the pie. Stan’s mouth watered.
    “Yes, that’s fine,” said Aiden trying hard not to sound worried. “Thank you. I’ll leave the lights on in the drive and I’ll see you soon.”
    From the dark of the guest cottage in the back garden, Abigail could clearly see Aiden in the lit kitchen of the house. She saw him talking on the phone. Then she saw him put his head in his hands again.
    For a moment she was tempted to go to him. She pictured herself entering the kitchen and putting her arms round him, telling him not to worry. But one glance at the sleeping baby in the basket stopped her. Aiden wouldn’t understand.
    At the first opportunity, she’d get to her car and escape.
    She hummed tunelessly under her breath and waited.
    aaaaa
    In the Cooper household, Stan was mopping his plate clean with a slice of bread.
    “Delicious,” he said. “The last thing I feel like doing is cycling up to the Martin’s house now, but I think I must. Strange that Mrs Martin is missing. I imagine there’s a