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of affection.’
    Burns updated me as we walked to the interview room.Tania’s team had been busy checking the records of Clare Riordan’s patients to see if any had complained about malpractice, but nothing had emerged yet. The IT boys were still checking her phone and email records, and Angie had been sifting her professional and social contacts for likely suspects. She had also tracked down the six staff Clare had sacked at the Royal Free, but they had scattered across the country looking for work. All except one had firm alibis. Angie had made an appointment for us to interview the only one still living in London at the end of the week.
    I shifted my attention back to Eleanor Riordan’s fact sheet while I waited in the corridor. She was thirty-nine, a freelance sales consultant living in south London, a stone’s throw from where I’d grown up; she owned a flat in the Paragon, an elegant sweep of Georgian houses on the edge of Blackheath. The file shed little light on her conflict with Clare, sparking my curiosity when the door finally opened.
    Eleanor Riordan looked so eerily like her sister that I did a double take. She had the same sleek brown hair drawn into a ponytail, oval bone structure, and amber eyes that reflected the light. It looked as if she’d been at a business meeting; a well-tailored suit hung from her slim frame. Despite their difficulties, Clare’s abduction seemed to have ruined her peace of mind. Everything about her looked brittle, facial muscles stretched tight over high cheekbones.
    â€˜Thanks for coming, Ms Riordan.’
    â€˜I don’t know why I’m here.’ She shot me a hard stare. ‘They’ve questioned me already. I’ve got nothing more to say.’
    â€˜Mikey’s very upset at the moment; I’m keen to talk to people close to him. Perhaps you could tell me about his relationship with Clare?’
    â€˜How would I know? She stopped me seeing him last year.’
    â€˜Can you explain why?’
    â€˜She told the police I was bothering her, but I just wanted a rational conversation.’ Her arms folded tight across her chest. ‘After our mother died, Clare took over her house – lock, stock and barrel. She said it had been promised to her.’ The anger in her voice rose with each statement. ‘That’s an outright lie. I think she destroyed Mum’s will.’
    â€˜But you own a flat in Blackheath now, don’t you?’
    â€˜That’s irrelevant.’
    â€˜The case has been running for two years?’
    â€˜I don’t even know if Michael got my birthday cards. My boyfriend thinks I should let it go, but blood’s thicker than water, isn’t it?’
    Her reference to blood pulled me up short. So far Burns had kept the abductor’s grisly calling card out of the news, by issuing the finders with a gagging order. ‘Can you explain why the property means so much to you, Ms Riordan?’
    She stared back at me. ‘My sister was always my parents’ blue-eyed girl – smarter and more confident. But I loved it there, playing on Clapham Common with friends after school, even though Clare acted like I didn’t exist. She did everything in her power to prove she was better than me.’ Riordan’s nonverbal communication continued in the silence that followed. Her jaw had locked so tight it looked as though she might never speak again.
    â€˜Did things improve as you got older?’
    â€˜Mikey brought us together for a while. I loved babysitting for him, but Clare was already angling for the house, putting pressure on Mum.’
    â€˜That sounds painful.’ Her face was tense with anger. ‘Could you tell me about your job, Eleanor?’
    â€˜I advise international pharmaceutical companies on sales strategies.’
    â€˜I bet that keeps you busy.’
    â€˜It does.’ She almost managed a smile. ‘My job involves quite a lot of