“Help how?”
“Help by getting through to Pete.”
“And doyouthink you can help?”
I look at my hands. “I think Pete needs help more than her.”
“And what’s she like?”
“Emma. She’s… interesting.”
“Define ‘interesting.’”
“Like someone who keeps emergency mascara in the glove compartment and also believes she could hot-wire a helicopter.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Great.” He grabs a notepad from the side and flips it open. “Look, I’ve been doing a little digging myself. This stays within the room,” he says sternly. “Here’s what I’ve found.”
I sit up.
“James Whitlow,” Craig begins, and the surname feels expensive. “Forty-five. Property, private equity, some tech business too. A few shell companies. A very good accountant. The sort of chap who appears on charity boards in photos where everyone is wearing navy.”
“Of course he does,” I mutter.
Craig continues. “He’s beenlooked atbefore. Nothing that stuck. Two separate allegations of assault — one from a former employee, one from a… former partner, I think — charged initially then dropped. Witnesses went quiet. Money has a way of muffling noise.”
My stomach drops like a lift. “Jesus.”
“Intimidation complaints around a planning dispute. Again: charged but withdrawn.”
“So, violent, connected, and rich,” I say. “Great. My favourite flavour of villain.”
Craig gives me the Don’t-Be-Flippant-With-Crime glare. “I’m serious, Tom. This man doesn’t need to break the law to get what he wants. People do it for him.”
I feel the fizz of panic bubble under my ribs. “What do I do?”
“Stay away.”
I make the kind of face small children make when told broccoli counts as a treat.
Craig points at me. “No, I mean it. I know that look. It’s the look you get before you adopt a problematic cactus. You arenotequipped to take on a man whose lawyers have lawyers.”
“I know,” I say, lying so hard the sofa should eject me. “I will. I’ll stay away.”
He narrows his eyes. “Say it again but try it without the subtext.”
“I’ll…” I twirl a coaster. “…take a measured approach.”
He groans into his hands. “Tom.”
“Okay,okay.” I hold up palms. “I will. But I can’t just leave Pete.”
Craig’s voice softens. “I know. But you can’t save someone who doesn’t want saving.”
“There was a time when I would say I didn’t need saving.”
Craig frowns. “This is different.”
“Is it?” I ask.
