'No, I don't think so,' he said eventually. 'You might spook him.'

Ellie shook her head. 'No. I wouldn't. I promise—'

He held up his hands and patted the air to quieten her down.

'I don't mean deliberately. But you've had . . . a rough day'—he gave her a little smile—'and you probably won't sound like yourself. Why not text him instead?'

So, under his guidance, she sent Evan a text: Just seen your calls. Can't talk. Text me.

The reply pinged back almost immediately: Where were you? Where are you now?

She showed Chico the reply and he told her what to say: Long story. I'll explain later. Meet me at hotel tomorrow morning at 9?

Ellie hoped that Evan wouldn't be able to make it, but the reply came back: Okay. See you then.

Her heart sank.

'We'll look forward to it, Mr Buckley,' Chico said with a self-satisfied smile.

Chapter 21

Evan got to Ellie's hotel just before eight in the morning and headed straight up to her room, even though he was an hour early. It wouldn't hurt to catch her off guard. It would give him an advantage if she was still in her nightdress. Everybody felt stupid talking to a fully clothed person when they were dressed for bed. Who knows, it might even be some black, see-through item, not that he'd have schtupped her if she'd begged him after the way she acted in the bar the other night.

But it was Evan who got the surprise when it turned into déjà vu all over again. After he didn't get a reply to his knock on the door he just went ahead and tried the handle. It was unlocked. He stepped into the room and looked around. At first he thought nobody had been back since last night. The mattress was still leaning up against the wall, the drawers from the dresser still lying empty on the floor. But then he noticed her clothes were missing. He couldn't see the suitcase either. She'd obviously been back to the room, seen that it had been trashed and cleared out.

So why arrange to meet him here? Maybe she'd come back after she'd made the arrangement and couldn't be bothered to change it. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his cell phone. That must be her now.

'Where the hell are you?' he snapped, without looking at the display. 'I'm getting pissed off with this—'

'Good morning to you too, Evan,' Guillory said.

Evan's mind went blank for a moment. He recognized the voice but he couldn't place it.

'I take it you were expecting somebody else,' Guillory said and laughed. 'At least I hope you were.'

The sound of his laughter made it click.

'Ed? Yeah, sorry about that.'

In the background Evan could hear what sounded like breakfast cereal being poured into a bowl. It reminded him that he'd skipped breakfast to get here early and now she wasn't even here. There was the sound of milk splashing into the bowl. It sounded fresh and ice cold and made his mouth water.

'What's that? Cheerios?'

'Uh huh,' Guillory said through a mouthful of food. Evan swallowed drily and waited.

'Isn't it a bit early in the day to be getting so pissed?' Guillory said when he'd finished chewing.

Evan rolled his neck in a figure of eight, massaged it with his fingers and let out a sigh.

'Easy for you to say, sitting there having a leisurely breakfast, although normally I'd agree with you, but this one—'

'Don't let the bastards grind you down.'

Evan snorted. 'That's very constructive, thank you—'

'Pleasure.'

'What are doing calling so early anyway? I'm surprised you're out of bed.'

'Who said I'm out of bed?' A long yawn came down the phone line. Evan was glad he wasn't there and didn't have to look at all the little bits of cereal stuck in his teeth, probably little pieces of nuts as well, not to mention his furry, white tongue, because there was no way the guy could hold a bowl, a spoon and his phone and cover his mouth as well. It didn't stop his stomach grumbling though.

'What do you want anyway?'

'Seems to me you're confusing me with that other caller again. Anyway, ignoring your rudeness, I've got the information you wanted.'

'Sorry, you're right. Fire away, you don't have to type it up.'

'Uh uh.'

'What do you mean, uh uh?'

'I was thinking I'd call your bluff on all those drinks you've promised me. What are you doing at lunchtime?'

'Drinking on duty? That's not like you.'

Guillory let out a quick stutter of a laugh. 'I'll explain when I see you. Why don't you pick me up at twelve thirty?'

Evan's phone pinged to let him know he'd received a text. Maybe Ellie had tried to call him while he was wasting time shooting the breeze with Guillory. Probably hadn't noticed he had a call waiting because of the noise of all the crunching and slurping coming from the other end of the line.

'Gotta go,' he said. 'I'll pick you up later.

He ended the call and checked his messages. He was right; Ellie had just texted him.

I'm picking up breakfast. Doughnuts or danish?

That was what you called good timing. Guillory could shove his cheerios where the sun don't shine. Danish, he texted back, his mouth salivating again. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all, for a selfish, manipulative bitch. He sat down in the armchair and crossed one leg over the other, but he couldn't get comfortable. He jumped up again and walked over to the window. He stuffed both hands deep into his front pockets and leaned back on his heels. It was quiet outside, hardly any traffic. He turned to face the room again. The mattress caught his eye. He might as well put it back on the bed. He was surprised the maid hadn't been in. He grabbed hold of the corner and pulled it away from the wall and manhandled it onto the bed frame. It was quite heavy and substantial which surprised him in a cheap place like this.

He took a minute to get the mattress straight on the bed, fixed the covers and looked at his watch. Where the hell was she? How long did it take to pick up breakfast? He started to turn back to where the mattress had been propped against the wall, see if there was anything that had been hidden behind it that he might have missed the night before. A sudden noise behind him made him jump and spin round; somebody was outside the door. Not before time, he was starving. He took a step towards the door and stopped, heard footsteps on the other side, but moving away, and then the sound of a key in a lock further down the hall. Damn.

He turned round and looked where the mattress had been and smiled to himself. Idiot. There was nothing there, of course. Just dull wallpaper and some scuffed paintwork. What had he been expecting? A message for help written in lipstick on the wall? Blood? A dead body? He started to laugh then stopped abruptly as it suddenly struck him.

Doughnuts or danish?

That was it. That was what had been niggling him, making him antsy, stopping him from settling. Listening to Guillory munch his way through breakfast had put him in the wrong frame of mind, made him to listen to his stomach, not his gut, which wasn't the same thing at all.

Doughnuts or danish?

Ellie had celiac disease, he remembered now, how could he forget? She had to eat a one hundred per cent gluten-free diet. One sniff of a doughnut or a danish would set off a whole bunch of unpleasant symptoms from canker sores in her mouth to depression and anxiety, pains in her bones and joints to little green men climbing out of her vag for all he knew, the fuss she made about it. The thought of her stopping to pick up doughnuts or danish for somebody else to enjoy while she watched was laughable.

She hadn't sent the text.

He ran to the window and looked down at the street. Nothing had changed since he looked out five minutes ago, no cars that weren't there before. He moved to the side of the window to get a better view to where his car was parked further down the street. He watched a car back into the space behind it. It looked similar to the one the two Hispanics had been driving but he couldn't be sure. He couldn't see the license plate from this distance or see through the windshield because of the angle.