“I have already told you everything I know,” Ansel said. He was growing tired of repeating himself.

“You realize how bad this looks for you, I assume,” George, his barrister, sighed. “I am fighting extradition, but it looks like you fled the country immediately following the murder of Ms. Halpstern.”

“Fled the country?” Ansel choked. “I had the flight booked for weeks! What the hell kind of barrister are you if you can’t even prove that?”

George ignored the slight and focussed on the notes before him, adjusting his spectacles. “The fact that you left directly after the murder is more inflammatory than the date when your tickets were booked.”

“How many other people left Vegas or even the Bellagio that day?” Ansel demanded. “What a crock of bollocks!”

George grunted in agreement and rubbed his forehead. “Let’s go through the day in question again. Where were you before you visited Ms. Halpstern’s hotel room?”

Ansel’s mind instantly went to Tony Valducci’s fire-eaten home in Surprise.

“I went out for a stroll,” he answered evenly, pushing his true crime from his head.

“Can anyone verify that?”

Ansel swallowed a smirk as he envisioned Valducci’s bodyguard, Luca, and the dog.

“I’m certain many people saw me, but I did not take any names,” he grunted. “If I had known I needed an alibi, I would have worked it out. Anyway, what difference does it make what I did before I went to see her?”

“Your demeanor beforehand can be relevant,” George said. “If you seemed nervous or irate, for example.”

“I was neither nervous nor irate,” Ansel assured him. “If I had been, I would not have visited Miss Halpstern for an afternoon treat. I don’t perform well under stress.”

George’s green eyes narrowed. “I would suggest you do not use language like that when speaking to the prosecutor or jury.”

“Jury?” Ansel coughed. “It can’t go that far! I have done nothing wrong! I don’t even own a gun!”

George scoffed lightly. “You were in America, Ansel. You belong to an elite world where money is no object. If you wanted a gun, I should not have to spell out for you how easy it would be for you to acquire one and then get rid of it.”

“Their case is weak,” Ansel snapped, but George shook his balding head.

“I have seen men convicted for much less than this, Ansel,” he began, “and I am sure you have, too. I believe that, in America, they talk of the ability to indict a ham sandwich, as if the justice system is a comedy club to be mocked and trivialized.”

Ansel gritted his teeth. Truly, he had no fear. After all, there was not a cage in the world that could hold him. Then again, he did not want to spend his life running, nor did he want a criminal conviction. He finally had a chance to be with Nora again, away from his father’s clutches, wealthy in his own right. He didn’t wish to start anew, much less on the run. It wasn’t fair to him, and it wouldn’t be fair to Nora, either. He had to solve this.

“What happened when you arrived at her room?” George urged. “What did she say to you and vice versa?”

Ansel lowered his eyes slightly.

“There was very little talking,” he confessed. “I believe she said, ‘you came.’”

George waited. “And what did you say?”

“I said she was going to do the same,” Ansel said. “It wasn’t my finest work, I admit,” he rushed on, humiliation at having to relive his intimate moments with the girl more devastating than he had anticipated.

“And then what did you do?”

“Oh, come on, mate, do I have to spell it out? We shagged, all right?”

“Did you use anything else? Was there any bondage or—?”

“No! Nothing like that!” Ansel groaned. “It was simply a fun romp in the hay, and then I was on my way.”

George studied him for a long moment. “How long were you there?”

Ansel shrugged. “Forty-five minutes, maybe?”

“How was her mood when you left? Was she upset?”

“Of course not!” Ansel snapped, annoyed. “She was grinning, and she said she hoped to see me again before I left, but I knew it was impossible because I was leaving in the morning.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“No. I said, ‘you never know.’ There is no motive for me to have killed her,” Ansel insisted. “They need a better theory than this.”

“I am trying to give them one, Ansel, but you must work with me here,” George explained. “Let me earn my wage, will you?”

“I wish you would!” Ansel snapped. “I have other things to do.”

“Was she expecting anyone after you?” George continued, and Ansel felt like pounding his fists against the table in frustration.

“If she was, I am sure she wouldn’t have told me about it,” he said. “What are the chances they will extradite me?”

“I don’t know. That depends on what kind of evidence they have.”

Ansel felt like they were getting nowhere, and he rose from the sterile chair to pace around the interrogation room.

“I am a world-renowned boxer,” he grumbled. “I shouldn’t be like treated like a common criminal.”

“We will get you out of here,” George assured him, but Ansel wasn’t sure how much faith he had in his words. Maybe it would be better if he was extradited. He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Tony Valducci—he was sure that the man had planned this, and he was probably sitting with Luca right now, toasting his incarceration.

Ansel didn’t want to admit he may have underestimated the greedy gangster, but he didn’t want to give him too much credit, either.

There was a knock on the door, and Detective Carlsberg appeared, a smirk on his face.

“Good news, Mr. Williams,” he announced happily. Ansel had a feeling that it would not be good news for him. “Your extradition papers have come through. You are flying out on the red eye.”

Ansel glared at his attorney.

“I thought you were fighting this!” he exploded, slapping his palm against the table.

“Is that what happened with Carrie Halpstern?” the detective asked, cuffing Ansel’s hands behind his back. “You lost your temper and killed her?”

“You don’t have jurisdiction here, Detective,” George said coldly. “Kindly step away from my client unless you would like me to file a formal complaint with your CO. From what I’ve read, you don’t have the most stellar track record on the force. I would hate to see what another mark against you might do.”

Detective Carlsberg tensed, but he stepped back as instructed, glowering.

“It’s just going to be someone else slapping the cuffs on him,” he retorted. “I just thought I would help.”

“Your giving nature is duly noted,” George remarked dryly. “But in Britain, we treat our national treasures with respect, not disdain.”

“Maybe that’s why your national treasures think they can get away with murder,” Carlsberg replied.

“Uncuff him at once!” George snapped. “And do not come back until you are accompanied by an adult.”

Carlsberg scowled furiously. Against Ansel’s expectations, he did as he was told before storming from the room.

Ansel turned his anger back toward his lawyer, rubbing his wrists. “You have to stop this. I am not going back to Las Vegas to stand trial for this.”

“You will likely be granted bail—”

“No!” Ansel snarled. “I am not going! Find a way out of this or suffer the consequences.”

“You need to control your temper,” George growled, narrowing his eyes. “If you are threatening your own attorney, no one is going to believe you didn’t kill that girl.”

Ansel snorted derisively. “I am not threatening you. I am telling you that you are going to deal with the aftermath of a disaster if you don’t stop this from happening.”

“I suggest you return with Detective Carlsberg to America, and we will work on our end to bring you home.”

Ansel laughed mirthlessly.

“Forgive me if I no longer have any faith in your ability to do that,” he snapped. He banged on the door, and a constable appeared. “I need to use the toilet,” he announced.

The young officer only stared at him, but Ansel held his gaze.

“Ansel!” George called out. “Do not do anything stupid!” What was that, the mantra of Scotland Yard? They were the only ones who seemed to be basking in stupidity.

“Toilet?” Ansel demanded again. “Where is it?”

Sighing, the constable led him from the room, and Ansel’s mind began to work furiously. He had one opportunity to leave the stationhouse, but at what cost would it be? He couldn’t return to the States—who knew how long it would take to get this mess sorted out? His attorney was completely useless.

Ansel went into the washroom, slamming the door behind him.

“Hurry up in there! People are going to be looking for you!” the copper yelled. Ansel ignored him, even though he heeded the warning. He had a very small window of opportunity to get out of the police station; both literally and figuratively.

If he slipped from the high window, he could leave for Switzerland and forsake the entire ordeal in minutes. But what would he return to?

I can worry about that after I find Nora, he thought. And together, we can sort this mess out.

Something held him back. If he fled, it would only ensure that he was guilty, and he would commit Nora to an uncertain future. What was the point of finding her if they wouldn’t be able to relax and just live their lives together? They had already been running for years, and they finally had a chance to do it right.

Consternation and fury filled Ansel, and he butted his head against the door of the bathroom stall.

Think, he willed himself. What is the right thing to do?

His instinct told him to fly away, but his sense of righteousness kept him rooted in place. If he wanted to find Nora, he had to clear his name first. He had already caused her enough heartache for a hundred lifetimes. Besides, if Nora desperately needed his help—if she was in some kind of danger she couldn’t get out of on her own—she would have called out to him again, and yet she hadn’t.

“What are you doing in there?” the constable demanded, throwing open the bathroom door. “Did you fall in?”

Make your decision, he urged himself. Do it now.

“Williams? Are you still in there?”

Ansel cleared his throat and unlocked the door, stifling the desire to shift with stunning force.

“I’m here, mate,” he replied shortly. “Where else would I be?”

Relief colored the young cop’s face, as if he had been worried that he had lost the prized inmate. To be fair, he almost had.

“I have to take you to holding before your flight. Your barrister says he’ll be in touch, but I think he was in a big rush to get out of here,” he explained almost confidentially, and Ansel nodded at him.

“Fine,” he said, washing his hands. As they walked back toward the elevators, the officer leaned forward to press the button.

“I’m your biggest fan,” he whispered. “If you need anything while you’re in here, mate, let me know. I’m Andy.”

Ansel glanced at him through his peripheral vision and nodded slowly.

“Thanks, mate,” he replied slowly. “I may just take you up on that.”

I may have bought myself a few hours to reach out to Nora, he thought.

He just hoped he could reach her.