36
FORD
“There’s a problem.”
“Who is this?”
The question was more or less redundant. How many straight-talking Englishwomen did Ford know? But the call had come from an unknown number, and he didn’t want to hear about a problem, especially when the caller was Emmy and he’d already been getting twitchy because Hallie hadn’t answered his last text. He’d sent it an hour ago, asking whether it was his place or hers tonight, and she usually replied fast.
Ford stepped out into the hallway because this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have at his desk. Luckily, Tass had gone to find coffee.
“It’s your friendly neighbourhood piñata slayer.”
“And what’s the problem?”
“Hallie didn’t check in this afternoon, and we don’t know where she is. Has she been in contact?”
Ford’s heart seized. Emm
