If DCI Grace Swan was surprised to find a sobbing, wet Emma Cox at her doorstop, she gave no sign.
‘Emma? Whatever is the matter? Quick! Come on in out of the rain. I’ll put the kettle on and you can tell me all about it. Terry!’ she shouted as she led Emma up the to the first-floor kitchen living space. ‘It’s Emma. She seems to be in some trouble. Come on down!’
Emma sobbed out her story, had a cry on Grace’s willing shoulder, and then said that she would find somewhere to rent in the morning, if Grace would give her the time off.
‘I won’t hear of it. You must stay here, Emma, for as long as you like. I insist.’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘You can and you will. I’ll brook no arguments about it. Isn’t that right, Terry?’
‘Of course, it is, love. I’ll make up the spare bed and it’s yours, as Grace
