‘Do you need a lift?’ He looked down at my suitcase. ‘We’re headed for the airport too. We could squeeze you in.’ ‘Thanks but I’m waitin... for the shuttle.’ I replied politely. ‘Oh, that thing is always running late because of the road construction. You should come with us.’ I looked over at his jeep. A couple was snuggling up in the backseat and a middle-aged woman was sitting in the passenger seat adjusting her hat in the vanity mirror. ‘Are you sure you have the room?’ ‘We can make room.’ He. Her schoolgirl crush had been long forgotten, but a week after Paris’ murder changed all of that. The night of Paris’ murder, Isla had been the lone witness. She had seen him leaving Paris’ apartment wearing a blood-stained shirt. She knew he had not committed the murder. Michael was not the murdering type. He had always been calm, even when angry. Isla had always figured something in his past had taught him to keep tight control over his emotions. Even when Isla had seen him being escorted to. More

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