I felt rather than saw Will Lawson, his eyes burning into my back as I dusted the light fittings in the biggest conference room. I turned slowly, and sure enough, there he was, leaning against the doorjamb.

"Nothing wrong with your intuition," he said.

I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't even want to think about him, so I swivelled back around and resumed my dusting. He had nothing on me. Nothing. My alibi would check out, and all he could accuse me of was an overactive imagination and a slip of the tongue.

"You're just going to ignore me?"

I nodded. "That was my plan."

"We need to have another chat."

Wonderful. I could hardly refuse, but what should I say? The rules were so difficult to understand here in England. Back in Syria, it was simple. You got captured, you got tortured, and you kept your mouth shut until you escaped or died.

"You want to talk tonight?" I asked.

Will yawned, covering his mouth with his hand, and shook his head. "Tomorrow. I need some sleep, so you get a temporary reprieve."

Was I supposed to thank him? He was waiting for me to speak. "What time?"

"Six?"

"Same place?"

"Unless you feel like talking over dinner."

He was joking, right? But his face stayed impassive, and I struggled to get a read on him. Will Lawson, the newest star of my nightmares, and the man who'd given me many sleepless nights since our paths first crossed. Why couldn't he just crawl back under his rock and leave me alone?

"I don't have much of an appetite when you're around. I'll meet you upstairs."

I breathed a sigh of relief, an exorcism of my anxiety, as he backed out of the door and closed it behind him with a click. Gone, but not for long. I took a moment to look around as I willed my heart to stop racing. Despite its deceased inhabitants, I loved this old building with its juxtaposition of modern furnishings and period features. High ceilings with fancy mouldings offset by modern lights hanging down—a collection of lime-green spheres for this room. Soft music in the waiting area, comfy sofas I wished I could curl up on. The rich aroma of coffee drifting from the kitchen no matter what time of day it was.

Daylesford Hall had its own soul, a kind one, unlike the stark office buildings I'd worked in when I first arrived in England. In some ways, it reminded me of the traditional Arabic house I'd grown up in on the outskirts of Aleppo's old city, a series of interconnected rooms set around a sheltered stone courtyard. My bedroom had shared the same high ceilings, edged with intricately carved stones I imagined a wizened old craftsman chiselling by hand hundreds of years before. Summer evenings were spent under the delicately fragranced jasmine tree in the courtyard, reading, eating, and listening to the calls to prayer, while in winter, I'd loved to play chess with my father.

Until he died. I lost my innocence then. The first black soul I banished was the man who took my father's life, and I hadn't even reached my thirteenth birthday.

A tear rolled down my cheek, and I swiped it away. If I started crying, if I dwelled on the life I'd once had in Syria and what it turned into, I'd never stop.

"Don't think about it, Rania," I whispered to myself.

I forced myself to finish cleaning the room, making sure to dust thoroughly so I could skip that tomorrow. By the time I finished with Will, all I'd want to do would be to crawl home and weep. Or stick pins in the Voodoo-Will doll I'd go out and buy if he didn't leave me alone after that.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked as I strode past him on my way to get the vacuum cleaner.

"Nothing. Can't you leave me in peace for one night?"

He held up his hands. "Sorry I asked."

And of course, Helene heard me coming. The perfect end to a perfect evening.

"What's happening?" she asked. "Has the private investigator found anything?"

"How should I know?"

"By asking? I heard Daddy say to Derek that the man's been questioning people."

"He has. And you've already got me into trouble with him."

"How?"

"Because..." Of my own stupidity, and I didn't want to admit that. "Because he thinks I know more about what happened to you than I do."

"Why?"

"I may have let slip about your eyes."

Her hands came to her face involuntarily, and her breath hitched. I waited a second for her to pull herself together. Please, no more sobbing.

Luckily, she opted for insolence. "So?"

"Nobody apart from the police is supposed to know what happened to them, and now I have to keep avoiding his questions. It's awkward."

"Well, just answer them."

"So easy for you to say, Miss—"

"Who are you talking to?" Will asked from behind me.

I turned slowly, one painful degree at a time. Oh, how I wished I'd been blessed with the power of teleportation rather than the ability to see dead people. I could transport myself to an uninhabited desert island and spend the rest of my life alone, living off mangos and coconuts while practising my palm frond-weaving skills.

"Uh, myself? I get lonely sometimes."

Now I'd crossed the line from slightly kooky to borderline insane. Welcome to the asylum, Will.

"Why don't I believe you?"

"Look around. There's nobody here."

Will walked towards me, but he didn't stop when he got close. No, he kept coming, forcing me to back into the wall, where he caged me in with his arms.

"Get off!"

The bastard smirked. "I'm not touching you."

Helene started laughing, which wasn't funny.

"And you can be quiet," I snapped.

"Still talking to yourself?" Will asked.

Helene laughed louder.

I put my hands on my hips, which might have looked intimidating if Will hadn't been totally focused on my face.

"Fine. I'm talking to Helene. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

He dropped his arms, and while I could have taken the chance to escape, my legs had other ideas, and I slithered down the wall to the floor. And worse, Will dropped to one knee in front of me, the hard lines of his face softened by concern.

"The worrying thing is, I think you actually believe that."

"Think what you like. It's true."

"It's crazy."

"For you, maybe. For me, it's normal. I just wish it wasn't."

Helene had stopped laughing now, and her expression turned smug. "Finally, we're getting somewhere."

"Enough!"

Will reached out and squeezed my hand, and while I'd normally have snatched mine away, I knew he wouldn't hurt me. Not physically, anyway.

"Do you want me to call someone? That friend you live with? Shannon?"

"Is any part of my life still private?"

"I'm only doing my job."

"And I'm only trying to do mine. It's not my fault I got stuck between you and a brat who thinks everyone should jump when she snaps her fingers."

Helene glowered to the best of her ability with her face the way it was. "I earned my place at Weston Corp, I'll have you know. Just because my daddy owned the company didn't mean I filed my nails all day like that receptionist. What's her name? Martha? Did you know she was sleeping with the finance director? Talk about punching above her weight. I'm only surprised his wife didn't find out. They weren't very discreet."

I squashed my hands over my ears. "Please. Stop with the gossip."

Will peeled my hands away. "I thought women liked to gossip?"

"Not this one. I like to come to work, do my job in peace, then go to bed alone."

"Normally, I'd find that refreshing." He moved his gaze lazily down my body. "But what a waste."

"I think he likes you," Helene said. "Goodness only knows why."

I finally came to my senses. "I'm done here. You..." I pointed at Helene, then remembered she couldn't see me. "Helene. Stop asking me to sort all your problems out. And you..." Will rocked back as I poked him in the chest. "Leave me alone. Unless you can come up with any evidence that I've committed a crime, which you can't because I haven't..." Not in this country, at least. "Stay out of my life."

He offered a hand to help me up, but I ignored it and clambered to my feet.

"I'm finishing the cleaning, and then I'm going home. You two can chat amongst yourselves."

***

I thought Will really had left, at least until I walked of out the front door at Daylesford Hall with the burglar alarm chirping behind me and tripped over him. He was sitting on the wall next to the car park, legs outstretched as a persistent drizzle fell from the cloudy sky.

"You need to be more aware of your surroundings," he said. "When you get angry, you miss things."

"Which part of 'stay out of my life' did you not understand?"

I'd got two steps past him when he stopped me with three words, softly spoken.

"I believe you."

My world ceased spinning as I came to a dead halt. "What did you just say?" I whispered.

I heard him get up, then felt him close the distance between us. His warm breath puffed on my ear.

"I believe you."

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I. But I can't work out how else you would have known about Helene's eyes. I know you weren't there, and everything I've found out about you says you're a loner who lives hand to mouth with no ambition to change that, but you've got an altruistic streak that makes you care for others. Your roommate, her kid, and the old lady who lives downstairs, for example. And if you weren't involved as an accomplice, that only leaves one explanation..." He gave me a lopsided smile, shadows playing across his lips in the gloom. "Reckon I've gone crazy now too."

"Are you playing with me?"

"Not in the way I'd like to be." His smile flattened. "Shit. I shouldn't have said that. You bring out the worst in me."

Ignoring that last comment, now I didn't know what to think. But two things were certain: there was a murderer on the loose, and Will Lawson wouldn't leave me alone until I'd given in and talked to him properly.

"Fine. You ask your questions, and I'll answer them truthfully. But I can't help it if you don't get the answers you're hoping for."

"Fair enough. I can't ask for more than that. Dinner?"

I stared at him.

"Drinks?"

I kept staring.

"Can I at least give you a ride home?"

That seemed to be the least painful of his suggestions, and at least I wouldn't need to walk to the bus stop in the rain.

"You can drive me home, but no detours."

His grin came back, and I bit my lips to stop myself from returning it. He may have been annoying as hell, but he was still frustratingly attractive too.

"Deal," he said.