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circumstances surrounding Dan Carlton’s disappearance – had been an attempt by Guy Roberts to stir up publicity for his up-coming film, in which Emma had been cast.
    David knew that his behaviour, motivated by the need for money following a downturn in his photography business, had been shameful. But the photographs he had in front of him now had sought to put things right.
    He paused the slide show and focused on one of the images. It had been taken in Windsor, just outside the castle. Emma and Dan were on the left side of the photograph, and there, lurking behind a group of tourists, was the man who had masqueraded as Stephen Myers. Image after image, there he was – close to Emma and Dan, but far enough away to stay out of their immediate sight – Scott Goulding, the actor hired by Sally Thompson to impersonate Emma’s stalker. Sally blamed Emma (unfairly, David thought) for the death of her fiancé. She had used Scott Goulding as a means of taking revenge on Emma.
    David shook his head in sympathy for her, clicking on a different folder to be able to see the photos of the man talking to Guy Roberts on his Notting Hill doorstep. Yes, he was very pleased with these. The images might not have been perfect, they might not have had the visual impact of his portrait shots, but they had been far more valuable and rewarding.
    They had enabled Emma Holden to identify her tormentor, and take action.
    He wondered how Emma was doing. Emma and Dan had actually invited him to the wedding in Cornwall – as a proper guest, not a photographer. Unfortunately, he’d had a prior booking, but it had been nice to be asked, and a huge surprise. It had proved that in their eyes, he had make good his earlier damage.
    He was about to close down the image folder when a thought occurred to him – something that his subconscious had seen in the photographs suddenly rose to the surface. Is my mind playing tricks on me? He reopened the image of Emma and Dan outside the castle.
    ‘Can it be . . . ?’
    He clicked through another half-dozen photographs, his nerves tightening with each confirmatory shot.
    There was no doubt at all about what he was seeing.

Chapter 6
    ‘Feeling better this morning?’ Dan was sitting up in bed as Emma came through from the bathroom, a fluffy white towel wrapped around her. Waking early from her shallow sleep on their final Sunday morning in Mauritius, she’d decided the best thing was to get up and have a shower.
    ‘More positive,’ she said, perching on the edge of the bed. Following the Friday night at the restaurant, they’d spent a lazy Saturday around the hotel, lounging by the pool and beach, after which they’d talked again about their anxieties, trying to put things into perspective. ‘I feel like we can put everything behind us, at last.’ She looked across at Dan, his hair ruffled in the way it always was in the morning, and smiled.
    Dan moved across the bed towards her and placed a kiss gently on her cheek. ‘That’s great,’ he said. ‘Fantastic. We have to move on, Em, we really do. Otherwise, we might as well be the ones in jail, not Peter Myers.’
    Emma nodded, wrapping another towel around her still-damp hair. ‘And I’ve decided, I’m definitely going to meet the counsellor. It can’t do any harm.’
    ‘As I said, you should do whatever you think is best. I’ll support you.’
    ‘And maybe if she’s as good as Miranda says she is, you might be tempted to meet her, too.’
    ‘Maybe,’ Dan said, rising from the bed and stretching luxuriously as he peered out of the glass balcony doors. ‘Just look at the view out there.’ He padded over to the doors, and Emma wondered whether he would ever take up the offer of speaking to someone about what he had gone through. Maybe he didn’t need that kind of support. But his evasive reaction every time Emma mentioned talking to someone, and his continued silence over what had happened, pointed towards the fact that Dan was still