Princess: A Private Novel(17)

The redhead smiled. “I have.”

“And?”

“Hold on to something, mate, because this one’s gonna blow your socks off.”





Chapter 27


JACK MORGAN WAS at the kitchen table with Lewis, looking over potential sites to lure out and trap his would-be assassins, when Peter Knight’s call came in. The American stepped outside to take it.

Across the room, Jane Cook looked up from her laptop, her eyes following Morgan’s every step until he was out of sight.

Sharon Lewis snorted.

Cook, frustrated by the case, couldn’t ignore it. “What’s your problem?”

“Women like you. You lot make it more difficult for those of us who aren’t willing to sleep our way around the office to further our career.”

Cook couldn’t care less about Lewis’s opinion, but the respect of her colleagues at Private mattered to her, and Lewis had touched a nerve, giving voice to what she feared others were thinking.

To avoid those thoughts she turned her attention back to the laptop in front of her, continuing her trawl through Sophie Edwards’ social media. In particular, her Facebook photo albums. Most of the photos were of hedonistic parties where Sophie seemed to be the life and soul. Men came and went, but none appeared regularly enough to suggest a boyfriend. It all painted a picture of a party life that rarely left London.

With one exception.

Between the photos of popping champagne bottles and rooftop bars, one location continued to show up throughout the years since Sophie had left Brecon—a beautiful waterfall surrounded by forest. Sophie was posed in front of the cascading white water in several pictures, each one chronicling the effect that drugs and alcohol were taking on her body, her ageing accelerated by her damaging lifestyle.

“She went downhill fast,” Lewis commented, looking over Cook’s shoulder.

“Do you know this location?” Cook asked, pointing to the waterfall. “It could be somewhere around here that she knew from her childhood.”

Lewis shook her head. “I don’t. But print me a copy and I’ll pass it around the team. A lot of the guys are into distance running and mountain bikes. Maybe they know it. If not, we can ask the farmers. You expect to find her there?”

Cook shook her head. “I doubt she’s gone missing because of a hiking accident, but what else do we have? If it’s close, it’s worth investigating.”

“You’re right. I’ll go get the printouts from the office.”

Lewis had only been gone a moment when Morgan re-entered the room. Cook was about to tell him of her small lead, but something on the American’s face told her that he had bigger news.

She wasn’t wrong.

“Peter and Hooligan found the origin of the blackmail note: Eliza Lightwood’s penthouse.”





Chapter 28


PETER KNIGHT NEEDED to clear his thoughts. His mind was in the trees, and he needed to pull back to see the forest. If there was one thing that helped him see clearly, it was the faces of his children.

Knight’s ten-year-old daughter accepted his video call. As always, the joy of seeing her was mixed with a pang of sadness and loss—she looked so like her mother.

“Hi, Isabel. Is your brother with you?”

Isabel called out for Luke, and her slightly younger sibling pushed his way onto the screen.

“Hi, Dad!” he bellowed.

“Hi, Luke. What have you guys been doing today? Did you have a good time at football?”

“No. We lost,” Luke replied.

“Winning isn’t everything,” Knight told his son. “It’s how hard you tried that counts.”

“Is that what it’s like in your job, Daddy?” Isabel asked.

Knight forced a smile, pretending he wasn’t involved in a career where losing often meant someone’s life. “I try my best, Isabel.”

And that was the truth—how could he do less? He loved his children with every ounce of his heart. They were growing fast—too fast—and soon they would be adults, unleashed into the big bad world. Peter Knight knew just how bad it could be, and he would do his utmost to make it safe for his own kids, and those of every other parent—no one should have to witness or suffer the kind of loss that he had seen.

“Are you OK, Dad?” Luke asked.

Knight smiled at his son’s perceptiveness. “You’d make a great policeman.”

“I want to be a stuntman!” Luke said instead.

“What happened to being a pilot?”

Luke thought on that. “A stunt pilot!” he declared.

I should just keep quiet, Knight said to himself. “I love you both,” he told his children, signing off.

With their goodbyes in his ears, Knight walked from his office to Hooligan’s lab. He saw Perkins, the royal liaison, napping on a couch in the shadows. Hooligan was, as usual, enraptured by the data on his screens.

“You look happy,” Hooligan said, turning to Knight. “Call with the kids?” he guessed, knowing the man well.

Knight nodded, then got to business. “Find anything on Eliza?”

The East Ender shook his head. “Not a banana. The only link between her and the blackmail is that it was sent from her home.”