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  She had also been invited to a couple of parties, but since she was still getting teary over Sam and her ankle hurt, she wasn’t exactly in the mood to party. She decided that a quiet evening with friends was just what she needed.

  Chanel and Craig were still looking after Alfie. Hannah was sure she didn’t want him back and the couple was about to contact Social Services. “I’m not sure ’ow the law works in these cases,” Craig said to Ruby while Chanel was in the kitchen making coffee. “It’s possible we may not ’ave this little fella much longer. If Chanel is forced to give ’im up, ’er whole world’s gonna come tumbling down…not to mention mine.”

  After they’d had coffee, Chanel asked Ruby if she’d like to come upstairs and see Alfie.

  “I’d love to.”

  The nursery was perfect. Of course it hadn’t been created for Alfie. Craig had decorated the room during Chanel’s only—and very brief—pregnancy. “We never ’ad the ’eart to change it.”

  Ruby looked up. Minuscule electronic stars twinkled in the dark blue ceiling. There was just enough light to make out the Winnie the Pooh mural Craig had painted. In his crib, Alfie had kicked off his duvet and was lying on his back in a white sleep suit covered in rabbits. He was making tiny snoring sounds.

  “I keep trying to prepare myself for losing him, but it’s so ’ard.”

  Ruby put her arms round Chanel and hugged her. “Oh, sweetie…I hope you get to keep him, but there’s so much to sort out. You can’t rely on it. You have to be prepared for Claudia to want him back.”

  “I know, and I’m trying to be realistic, but Claudia ’asn’t been in touch with ’annah. She ’asn’t seen ’er or spoken to ’er since she refused to take Alfie ’ome from the ’ospital. If she took ’im now, what sort of a life would ’e ’ave with ’er? You’ve seen what she’s like with Avocado. She’s a dreadful mother.”

  “Yes, but she still has rights.”

  “Rights she bloody gave up months ago when she rejected ’im for ’aving ginger hair.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not how the law sees it.”

  “Well, the law needs bloody changing.”

  Ruby gave her another squeeze. “Come on. Let’s go downstairs and have some more coffee.”

  Chapter 19

  Ruby spent the next couple of days resting her ankle, which had started to swell up again because she’d been putting too much weight on it too soon. She passed the time reading and watching trashy TV. Every so often she would get up off the sofa and hobble to the loo or the fridge.

  By lunchtime on the second day, she decided that if she watched another Will and Grace rerun, or based-on-a-true-story made-for-TV movie, she might be forced to eat her head.

  She picked up the latest David Baldacci, which Aunty Sylvia had got her for Christmas, but she couldn’t settle. She began flicking through Hello! and put it down. Then she phoned Ivan to wish him a Happy New Year. He sounded full of beans and was talking about being back at work by March. “Doctors ver’ pl’zed with me. I phone you soon. You hef more jobs maybe? I could build bookshelves in lounge, yes?”

  Much as she liked him, the last thing she needed was Ivan farting around for another three months trying to do a job that should take three days. But she felt sorry for him. Even though he sounded pretty upbeat, his heart attack must have shattered his self-confidence, and the last thing she wanted was to make him feel useless and unwanted. “Good idea,” she heard herself say. “Bookshelves would be great. Why don’t you give me a ring when you’re ready to start?”

  She said good-bye to Ivan and went into the kitchen to make yet another cup of coffee. When she came back she sat with the mug in one hand and the TV remote in the other. For a full five minutes she channel-surfed. When nothing took her fancy, she lay back on the cushions and closed her eyes. Eventually she dozed off with CNN still on in the background. She could only have been half asleep because all the time, she was vaguely aware of a voice talking about some court case or other. A name kept being repeated over again. Even in her semi-asleep state, she was aware that the name meant something to her. Suddenly her eyes were wide open.

  “…and that was Dan Rozenberg reporting from New York on the Josh Epstien retrial, which begins Tuesday.”

  Ruby sat up too fast, causing her head to swim. She blinked at the screen, but the report had finished. The anchorman had moved on to an item on oil prices. “Hang on,” she said out loud, “did he say Josh Epstien?” Was it possible he was referring to Josh Epstien as in Sam’s brother, Josh? Surely not. She knew Sam’s brother was a drug addict, but Sam had said nothing about him being a criminal. Then again, there were quite a few things Sam hadn’t told her about his life. All she could think was that if Josh Epstien’s trial was being reported on CNN, he must be one hell of a villain.

  She hobbled into the bedroom and sat down at the computer. Then she Googled Josh Epstien, clicking on “images.” Before she went any further she wanted to see if the face that came up looked anything like Sam. She needed to be certain this was the same Josh Epstien.

  The first photograph showed a twenty-something man and woman on their wedding day. The dark, good-looking man in his late twenties was the image of Sam. Her eyes went to the woman standing next to him. The joy on her face left Ruby in no doubt that this was the happiest day of her life.

  Long blonde curls lapped at her bare shoulders. Of course she’d cut her hair since then and had it dyed. She was also a lot plumper now. Even so, Ruby recognized her at once. Underneath the picture, the caption read “Josh and Kimberley Epstien on their wedding day in 1999.” So, that explained Sam’s link to Kimberley. She was married to his brother. What it didn’t explain was why Sam had kept this fact a secret.

  She clicked out of images and into text. There were hundreds of references to Josh Epstien, but the first told Ruby all she needed to know.

  Two years ago Josh had been tried and sentenced to life imprisonment for murdering a New York mafia boss in some kind of drug turf war. At the time he had pleaded guilty. Now he was claiming that he had been arrested simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time and that the real killer—a billionaire New York businessman named Herbert Garcia with gangland connections—had threatened to kill Kimberley and the children if he didn’t take the murder rap.

  For the last few months, Josh’s lawyers had been fighting to get the case reopened. During this time, Kimberley had been receiving death threats. Eventually she and the children had fled abroad. Very recently, DNA evidence linking the businessman to the killing had been discovered. He had since disappeared.

  Ruby sat back in her chair. Now she understood. Kimberley had come to London because she thought she would be safe. On top of that, Sam was there to look out for her and offer what protection he could.

  It was then that Ruby remembered the black Porsche Cayenne that had tried to run them off the road in Richmond Park. Was it possible the gang had followed Kimberley here and that they knew Sam was helping her? Were they trying to threaten him in the same way they had been threatening her? It was dawning on her that the reason Sam went back to New York was connected to Kimberley and Josh and the new murder trial. But why had he lied? Why hadn’t he trusted her with the truth? He must have assumed she wouldn’t stay with him if she knew his brother was a convicted murderer.

  She needed to speak to Sam. It was only just dawning on her that all the time they were going out, he must have been under the most unbearable pressure and stress. He must have been so frightened—not only for Kimberley, but for himself as well.

  Ruby needed to make him understand that whatever Josh had or hadn’t done, she still loved him. She picked up the phone and dialed Sam’s mobile, only to be told the number was no longer valid. She tried his flat. The phone had been shut off. Finally she called the hospital. “I’m sorry,” said the woman on the switchboard, “but Dr. Epstien no longer works here.”

  Ruby could only assume that with the new trial coming up, Sam wanted to be near
his brother and had decided to go back to New York. Since he’d left his job, he clearly wasn’t planning to come back.

  Moments later she was on the phone to Fi. “Have you got a number for Buddy and Irene?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “I’m trying to find Sam. I think he might be on his way back to New York.”

  “Ruby, why on earth would you want to speak to Sam?” She sounded really concerned. “You have to let him go. The man is bad news. He’s done you nothing but harm.”

  “But I’m not convinced he has. At least not intentionally. Please, Fi, could you just let me have the number?”

  Fi went off to find it.

  “Thanks,” Ruby said after she had read it over. “I’ll phone you when I know more.”

  “What more? What is it you’re trying to find out?”

  “I’ll explain later. Promise. Bye.”

  Buddy picked up the phone on the first ring. Before he said anything Ruby heard him muttering to Irene about who could be phoning so early.

  “Buddy, it’s Ruby Silverman. You remember we met in London, after Connor’s circumcision?”

  “Ruby, hello. Great to hear from you.” She thought she detected a slight edge to his bonhomie—as if he didn’t quite know what was coming next. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

  “I know all about Josh, the murder, everything,” she said.

  “I see.” His voice was grave suddenly. “How did you find out?”

  She explained.

  “I’m sorry we lied to you, Ruby, but we both thought it was for the best. Sam thought that by telling you the truth he would lose you. The reason he left London was to bring Kimberley and the children home. Those sons of bitches had followed her to London and were threatening her. They kept saying that if she didn’t get Josh to change his story, they would kill her and the children. We had to fight to get it, but in the end she was offered round-the-clock police protection in New York, so she decided to fly back. Sam came with her and stayed on for a few weeks to keep an eye on her.”

  “But if he’d told me the truth, I would have understood.”

  “Maybe. He wasn’t prepared to take that risk.”

  “Do you know where he is now?”

  “Isn’t he at his flat?”

  “No, I’ve tried him there and at the hospital. He seems to have changed his cell number as well.”

  “Then I have no idea where he could be. He’s due back here for the retrial, but we’re not expecting him for a few days.”

  Ruby was starting to feel sick with dread. “Buddy, do you think these people could have hurt Sam in order to stop Josh testifying?”

  “My God,” Buddy muttered. She imagined him collapsing into a chair, fearing the worst. “Find him, Ruby. Please, please find him.”

  “OK. I’ll start with his flat. I still have a key.”

  “And Ruby.”

  “Yes?”

  “Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  HER FIRST INSTINCT was to phone the police, but it would take too long to explain everything and lose her precious time. She needed to get to Sam’s flat now. She still had the set of keys he had given her. She grabbed her coat and bag and made her way gingerly and frustratingly slowly down the stairs. She was just about to hail a cab when she saw her mother coming toward her. She was holding a large dish covered in silver foil. Whatever was inside was enough to feed ten people.

  “Mum! What are you doing here?”

  “I knew you couldn’t get to the supermarket and I was worried you might not have much in, so I brought you a lasagne. It just needs heating up.”

  “That’s really kind of you, but I’m kind of in a hurry.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Sam’s.”

  “What on earth for?”

  “He’s changed his mobile and he’s left his job. I think he might be in danger.”

  “What do you mean, ‘danger’? What possible danger could Sam be in?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “It’s something to do with this surrogacy thing, isn’t it?”

  “No. It’s nothing to do with that.”

  “OK, but if he’s in danger we have to call the police.”

  “There isn’t time. I have to get to his flat now.”

  “God, I wish you’d tell me what’s going on. Look, if you have to go to his flat, at least let me take you.”

  “No chance. You’re almost nine months pregnant. I don’t know what I’m going to find there.”

  Ronnie’s face was full of concern. She put her hand on Ruby’s arm. “Darling, are you really suggesting somebody might be out to hurt Sam?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Right, pregnant or not, I’m coming with you.”

  “Mum, please…”

  “If you get a cab, I’m only going to follow you. So make up your mind.”

  “God, you’re an obstinate woman when you choose to be.”

  Ronnie smiled. “I’m parked at the end of the road.”

  The two women, one heavily pregnant and carrying a giant lasagne, the other half walking, half hopping, made their way to Ronnie’s car. They put the lasagne on the backseat and headed for Kensington. Since it was only two days into the New Year and people were still off from work, the roads were practically empty.

  “Mum, I don’t suppose you could put your foot down a bit, could you?”

  “God, who are we? Cagney and Lacey?” She hit the accelerator. “So come on, tell me what’s going on.”

  Ruby told her what she had found out. “I don’t care what you say,” Ronnie said. “We have to tell the police. We don’t know what we’re going to find at Sam’s flat. What if he’s being held hostage? Or worse?”

  Ruby was adamant that there was no time. “Tell you what, you wait outside. If I’m not out in ten minutes, then you call them, OK?”

  “OK.”

  They practically screeched to a halt outside Sam’s flat. Ruby let herself into the building and began the slow, painful climb to the second floor. Over the years she must have sneered at hundreds of TV cops and movie heroes for doing what nobody would think of doing in real life—going into a life-threatening situation alone. Now, here she was doing precisely that. Only this wasn’t TV. It was real life.

  Ruby put her ear to the door and listened. There were no sounds coming from inside. She rang the bell and waited. Nothing. Heart racing, hand trembling, she tried to slide the key into the lock. She was in such a state that it took three attempts. She turned the key. Slowly, she opened the door. The first thing she saw was the junk mail scattered over the mat. She left the front door open in case she needed to make a quick getaway. Then she took a few steps down the hallway. There were no signs of a disturbance or a struggle. There was no upturned furniture. More to the point, there were no blood-spattered walls or carpet. She poked her head round the living room door. It was perfectly neat and tidy. Ditto the bedroom. Even though she still had no idea where Sam was, for the moment at least, she started to relax.

  Then, as she turned to go back into the hall, she collided with a granite-hard, T-shirt-clad chest. For a beat, maybe two, she stood staring at the faces of Wallace and Gromit. Frozen with fear, her eyes moved upward. The giant, unshaven man had his arm raised above his head. His hand was wielding a hammer. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t scream. She was quite literally paralyzed. So this was it. This was what it felt like in that moment before death. Before the lights went out. She closed her eyes and waited for the hammer blows to rain down on her head.

  “Blimey, you gave me a bleedin’ fright. Who are you? What do you want?”

  Ruby opened one eye and then another. The hammer was now down by the man’s side.

  “I might ask you the same question,” she said.

  “I’m the electrician. Bloke who owns this place got me in to fix some dodgy wiring before the new tenant comes in.” She was pretty sure he was telling the truth because he had one of those t
ool belts round his waist.

  “Sorry,” she said, voice trembling. “I did ring the bell before I let myself in. Didn’t you hear me?”

  He pointed to his iPod headphones, which were draped round his neck.

  “My boyfriend…” she began, “well, ex-boyfriend, actually used to live here. I…er, I left some of my stuff here and I wanted to see if it was still here. Mind if I take a look round?”

  “’Elp yourself,” he shrugged.

  The electrician wandered off into the kitchen. A few moments later she heard him banging away with his hammer.

  Ruby stood thinking. If Kristian, who owned the flat, had called in the electrician because he was about to relet it, then it probably meant that Sam had told him he was moving out. This was a good sign.

  She went into the living room. The bust of Stalin and the jukebox were gone. She assumed he had either sold them or shipped them back to the States. In the bedroom, all his clothes were gone from the wardrobe. The idea of Sam having been attacked or kidnapped now seemed highly unlikely. Unless, of course, the gang had got to him while he was on his way somewhere.

  She looked around the bedroom. The carpets needed a vacuum. There were cup rings on the bedside table. It was obvious that the cleaners hadn’t been in yet. Suddenly she noticed the wastepaper bin. It was full. She ran over and tipped the contents onto the carpet. In movies the detectives always found out where somebody was from evidence left in the waste bin. Usually it was a crumpled piece of paper with an address on it. Or an old notepad with the imprint of an address. She sifted through the rubbish. There was an empty toothpaste tube, a pair of socks with holes in, a few chewing gum wrappers and an old newspaper. Nothing of any consequence.

  She began putting everything back. Then, as she was about to ram the newspaper into the bin, she noticed a large advertisement. One of the airlines had a deal on New Year’s flights to New York. Sam had circled it. Beside it he had written today’s date. Ruby took her mobile from her bag and phoned the contact number at the bottom of the ad. “Excuse me, I saw your ad in the Evening Standard. Could you tell me what time your New York flight leaves today?…No, no, it doesn’t matter that it’s fully booked, I was just curious, that’s all. Yes, I know it’s a strange thing to be curious about if I’m not planning to travel, but could you tell me anyway?”