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“I inherited this house. There’s a woman living in it. She won’t let me in. There are people, some of them kids, coming and going at all hours. I know she’s up to something. I thought it was drugs, on account of the fact she’s paying teenage boys with homemade brownies. But it’s not. There’s no evidence for any of this.”

“This woman, she has a record, a worrying personality, what?”

Jack grinned.

“Oh, she’s as nutty as they come. But kind and cute with it. Sexy, but really naive too, if you know what I mean. She’s just nice. Yeah. Nice.”

The little guy gave Jack another superior, knowing smirk.

“So,” he said, “she’s not the criminal type?”

“There isn’t a criminal type,” Jack told the idiot. “But she strikes me as someone who fell into trouble rather than deliberately hunting it down.” He looked around for the right way to explain it. It wasn’t written on the office wall. “She’s kind of hard to figure out. I have no idea what she’s talking about half the time.”

The guy thought about it for a minute. Jack wanted to scream – hurry up, fix me already.

“And you didn’t consider any other scenario?”

“She has the house lit up like a football field. The only time I’ve seen lights like that are in DIY hydroponic set ups.”

“Let’s think for a moment,” the little man said. “What other reasons might she need extra lighting?”

This guy was useless. Jack clenched his fists – he’d known this was a bad idea.

“What does she do for work?”

“She’s a runner at a local TV station and she teaches an evening class.”

“In what?”

Jack didn’t know. It hadn’t seemed important to find out. He shrugged.

“Maybe she needs the extra lighting because she’s decorating and won’t let you in because it isn’t in her agreement?” the doctor suggested.

“No one needs that much light.”

“Why don’t you just ask her about the lights?”

Jack shifted in his chair. It was too low for his long legs; it was built for Shorty the doctor.

“I do ask her about stuff. She’s always cagey. Sometimes she’s downright weird. Like she’s a different person. She’s hiding something. It’s hard to get a straight answer out of her.”

“Ah, you think she’s putting on an act for you.” The tiny doc nodded wisely, impressed with his own insight.

Everything within Jack stilled. Act. He remembered something he’d read in Davina’s file. All those acting jobs. Then there were the lights and a guy from her day job. He could have smacked himself on the head it was so obvious. He wasn’t going insane after all. He shot to his feet.

“Okay, we’re done. I don’t need you anymore. Turns out I’m not losing my mind. It was a false alarm.”

“Wait a minute,” blustered the little man. “We’re not finished here, we have a great deal of work to do and we haven’t even scratched the surface.”

“Nope.” Jack grinned down at him. “We’re done. I know what she’s up to. I’m being played. She is hiding something. It just isn’t what I thought it was.”

He ran for the door.

“Wait,” the guy called. “I’m worried about your mental state.”

“And I’m worried about yours,” Jack told him. “Ditch the brown cord trousers, Doc, and stop smirking when you think your patients aren’t looking. Nobody likes a smart arse.”

He slammed the door behind him and raced down the steps down to the foyer. It took all his self-control not to laugh out loud. The day was looking up. Not only did he know what Davina was hiding, but she wasn’t a criminal anymore – and that made her fair game.