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Portsmouth, the sister on the slopes of Portsdown Hill.’
    That was to the north of the city, where Kempton Marine was based: Luke Felton’s employer, and Catherine’s. Would she be there now, Horton wondered with a quickening heartbeat? Would he get the chance to talk to her? Perhaps even persuade her to let him see Emma, this weekend or next?
    ‘Let’s check what time Luke Felton left work first,’ he said, stretching the seatbelt across him. ‘Someone at Kempton’s might be able to tell us more about Felton’s movements.’ He caught Cantelli’s wary glance. ‘It’s OK,’ he added. ‘I promise to be on my best behaviour.’
    Clearly Cantelli didn’t believe that, and as they headed out of the city towards Kempton Marine, Horton wondered if it was a promise he’d be able to keep himself.

FOUR
    N either Catherine’s car nor that of her fat lover, Edward Shawford, were in the car park. Horton wasn’t sure whether to feel disappointed or relieved. His father-in-law’s Mercedes was in its customary managing director’s space, but Horton decided not to announce himself to Toby Kempton; he didn’t think he’d be greeted as the all-conquering hero, more like someone who had escaped from a leper colony.
    It had been a year since he’d been inside the building and then it had been under very different circumstances. He’d stormed in here angry and hurt that Catherine had thrown him out after she’d chosen to believe an accusation of rape by a girl he’d been detailed to get close to while working undercover on a special investigation. He’d started drinking heavily and in April, Catherine had refused to let him see his daughter. In July the case against him had been dropped, and slowly, with Cantelli’s help, he’d started to put his life back together again. In August, when he’d returned to work after his suspension, he’d cleared his name, but by then the damage had been done both to his promotion chances and his marriage. His life, and Catherine’s, had been changed, but here nothing had, except the receptionist – Cantelli threw him a concerned glance, sensing his tension, as he asked for the personnel officer, Kelly Masters.
    Four minutes later they stepped into her small, modern office and Horton was once again facing the large dark-haired woman in her late twenties who he’d tried many times to avoid kissing at the office Christmas parties.
    ‘Andy, how lovely to see you,’ she said with a smile, leaning forward to embrace him.
    ‘We’re here about Luke Felton,’ he said abruptly, stalling her. He didn’t want her false sympathy, which he knew of old would be tinged with a kind of malicious glee at another person’s misfortune. And neither did he wish to encourage her sexual advances. On the way here he’d warned Cantelli about Kelly Masters’ reputation as a man-eater. Not that he had any concerns about Cantelli falling into her clutches. He was strictly a one-woman man, and who wouldn’t be, thought Horton, considering Charlotte Cantelli.
    Kelly’s dark brown eyes flickered with anger at the rebuff and her mouth tightened, but she forced a smile from her lips and managed a concerned frown before switching her charms on Cantelli, who gave her his bewildered idiot look.
    Getting the message, with an irritable scowl she waved them into seats across a low table, letting her short skirt ride up her pale tree-trunk legs. Horton wondered what Luke Felton had made of her, or rather what Kelly had made of him. Luke wouldn’t have been much of a challenge though. Deprived of sex for ten years, he would have shagged any female in sight, though Horton didn’t know the latter was Felton’s sexual preference. But he did know Kelly Masters, and as long as it was male and breathing it could have been any colour of the rainbow, size, shape or age, married or not. She didn’t discriminate.
    Curtly, he said, ‘What kind of work did Luke Felton do here?’
    ‘Why do you want to know that?’