Chapter One

JULY 2018

Groggy with sleep, Rachel peered at the screen of her phone. A French number. The phone slipped from her hand onto the floor and she grabbed it up again, staring at the number with wide eyes, adrenaline charging through her even though it was barely seven in the morning.

Finally she pressed reply. She drew in her breath. “Hello?”

“Bonjour, good morning. This is Detective Avril Loubet from the Police Municipale in Nice. Is this Mrs. Rachel Rimmer?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Speaking.”

“Mrs. Rimmer. I am afraid I am calling you with some very distressing news. Please, tell me. Are you alone?”

“Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Is there anyone you can ask to be with you now?”

“My father. He lives close. But please. Just tell me.”

“Well, I am afraid to say that this morning the body of your husband, Michael Rimmer, was discovered by his housekeeper in the basement of his house in Antibes.”

Rachel made a sound, a hard intake of breath with a whoosh, like a steam train. “Oh,” she said. “No!”

“I’m so sorry. But yes. And he appears to have been murdered, with a stab wound, several days ago. He has been dead at least since the weekend.”

Rachel sat up straight and moved the phone to her other ear. “Is it—Do you know why? Or who?”

“The crime scene officers are in attendance. We will uncover every piece of evidence we can. But it seems that Mr. Rimmer had not been operating his security cameras and his back door was unlocked. I am very sorry, I don’t have anything more definite to share with you at this point, Mrs. Rimmer. Very sorry indeed.”

Rachel turned off her phone and let it drop onto her lap.

She stared blankly for a moment toward the window, where the summer sun was leaking through the edges of the blind. She sighed heavily. Then she pulled her sleep mask down, turned onto her side, and went back to sleep.