“But just one man?” Constable Price said.

“God in heaven, how many times am I going to have to-”

“One man,” Andy interposed.

Nan pressed her lips into an angry line. Her eyes bored holes into Price's skull. “One man,” she repeated.

“It wasn't you who phoned?” This to Julian.

“I know Julian's voice,” Nan said. “It wasn't Julian.”

“But you have a relationship with the young lady, Mr. Britton?”

“They're engaged to be married,” Nan said.

“Not exactly engaged,” Julian quickly clarified, and he cursed in silence as the damnable heat rose from his collar-bone to suffuse his cheeks yet again.

“Had a bit of a quarrel?” Price asked, voice shrewd. “Another man involved where you didn't like it?”

Jesus, Julian thought. Why did everyone assume they'd rowed? There hadn't been a single harsh word between them. There hadn't been time for that.

They hadn't quarreled, Julian reported steadily. And he knew nothing about another man. Absolutely nothing, he asserted for good measure.

“They had a date to talk about their wedding plans,” Nan said.

“Well, actually-”

“D'you honestly know any woman who'd fail to show up for that?”

“And you are certain she intended to return by this evening?” Constable Price asked Andy He shifted his eyes over his notes, going on to say, “Her gear suggests she might have intended a longer outing.”

“I hadn't thought much about it till Julian stopped by to fetch her to Sheffield,” Andy admitted.

“Ah.” The constable eyed Julian with more suspicion than Julian felt was warranted. Then he flipped his notebook closed. The radio receiver that he wore from his shoulder buzzed with an incomprehensible stream of babble. He reached up and turned down the volume. Easing his notebook into his pocket, he said, “Well. She's done a runner before, and this's no different to that, I expect. We'll have ourselves a wait till-”