The sun had long set, and Evan was grateful for the lights that shone out of the cottage windows through the mist. It was a good feeling to know that this place was home, that Bronwen was there, and that supper would be waiting for him. He reached the front door, wiped the worst of the mud from his shoes, and brushed the rain from his jacket before he entered.

"About time." Bronwen rose from the sofa in front of the fire. "I'd just about given up on you. I thought it was supposed to be more meetings today. Don't tell me they kept you at a meeting this late?"

"The day started off in a meeting and ended in a murder investigation," Evan said. "I've been put on a new Major Crimes Team out of HQ, and we were sent out right away to cover the murder."

Bronwen had come to meet him and threw her arms around his neck. "Evan, that's wonderful. I'm so proud of you." She kissed him firmly on the lips.

"I'm not so sure how wonderful it will be," he said. "The DI is going to be an absolute bugger to work with, but if I get that kind of reception every time you're proud of me-" He drew her to him and started to kiss her hungrily.

"Evan!" She pulled away from him. "Hold on a minute before you get carried away. We've got a visitor."

"What?" Evan looked around the room for the first time. Jamila rose from the low chair on the far side of the fire where she had been sitting.

Jamila attempted a smile. "Not so good, Mr. Evans."

"Jamila's had some startling news, to say the least," Bronwen said. "She came straight up here to tell us."

"Bad news, Jamila?"

"Terrible, Mr. Evans. Absolutely terrible." He could see now that she had been crying. "I've just found out something really awful is going to happen to me."

"What is it?"

Jamila gave a hopeless glance to Bronwen.

"Jamila's family plans to take her to Pakistan to marry her off to a man more than twice her age," Bronwen said. "A man she's never even met."

"Surely not?" Evan shook his head in disbelief. "I could believe that your brother might want to do something like that, but your father seems like a sensible man, perfectly westernized in his ways."

"You'd have thought so, wouldn't you?" Jamila pressed her lips together to prevent herself from crying again before she went on. "But now he's turned into the worst kind of old-fashioned Muslim father, practically overnight. Rashid was spying on me, you see. I stayed at my friend Rhian's house to work on a school project, and some boys from our class stopped by to say hello. There was nothing wrong with it. They're nice boys. We just had some soft drinks and chatted. But Rashid made it sound as if I'd tricked our parents and gone there deliberately to drink with boys. So now I overheard Daddy and Mummy talking, and they have been in touch with relatives in Pakistan and these relatives have found a suitable man for me."

"But they can't marry you off against your will," Evan said. "You're underage to get married anyway."

"Not in Pakistan," Jamila said. "They force girls to get married when they are eleven or twelve there."

"But surely your parents can't think that you'd go to Pakistan to get married. If you refuse to go, they can't drag you there, kicking and screaming, can they?" Evan asked, glancing at Bronwen.

"They were going to trick her, Evan. That's what's so horrible," Bronwen said. "They were going to make it seem like a family holiday over Christmas. And then, when Jamila was there, it would be too late and she'd be helpless."

"And are they planning to just leave you in Pakistan with this man?"

Jamila spread her hands in a hopeless gesture. "I don't know. I don't know any details or what they're planning to do. I just heard Daddy say, 'Don't tell her anything, just that it's going to be a lovely family holiday.'

"And Mummy said, 'But the poor child. It's not fair to her.'

"And Daddy said, 'You and I had an arranged marriage, didn't we, and I'd say it turned out well enough for both of us. He's a good man and he's rich. She'll have plenty of clothes and a chauffeur to drive her around. What more should she want?'

" 'But she's so keen on her education,' Mummy said. 'Shouldn't she be allowed to finish that, at least?'

" 'And wind up running with a bad crowd or pregnant or on drugs? Is that what you want for her?' Daddy shouted. I crept away. I didn't want to hear anymore."

Bronwen put a comforting arm around the girl. "I'm sure they're just upset at the moment, and they're overreacting, Jamila. If you like I'll go and talk to them tomorrow. I'll tell them that you've found out what they have planned for you, that you are extremely upset, and absolutely refuse to go. I'll make them see that this is blighting your future, and that they are not behaving in a reasonable manner."

Jamila's face lit up. "Oh, would you do that for me? That would be so wonderful. I can't thank you enough."

Bronwen squeezed her shoulder. "Who else would I have to help me carry my shopping up the hill?"

Later that night, after Jamila had gone home and the meal had been cleared away, Evan sat with his arm around Bronwen on the sofa in front of the fire. Fierce rain peppered the windows, and wind moaned in the chimney. Bronwen gave a sigh of content and rested her head against Evan's shoulder.

"This is the first time I've really appreciated our little cottage," she said. "A haven of peace, shutting out the horrible world."

"Is the world so horrible?" Evan asked. "I thought you were the one who always saw the glass half full."

"I did. It just seems that everything is difficult at the moment. Poor little Jamila. I feel so angry when I think of those stupid people, that I'll have to be careful I don't let them have it."

"I think you need to be very tactful when you talk to her parents," Evan said. "If they feel too threatened, they'll just send her away from here out of our reach. On second thought, it might be best if you spoke to someone at her school. They might be able to intervene for her legally and declare her a ward of the court if necessary."

"But that would mean taking her away from her family, which I'm not sure is the best idea," Bronwen said. "Making the parents see reason is obviously what I want to achieve. I think it's the brother who is the big problem in the family. He's probably putting a lot of pressure on the father to act like a Muslim patriarch, and the father doesn't want to lose face by having his daughter defy him."

Evan stroked Bronwen's hair. "I'm glad we don't go in for arranged marriages in Wales," he said, "or your parents would have had you hitched to some gentleman farmer or boring solicitor."

"And yours would have married you off to a policewoman." Bronwen laughed.

"Oh no. My mother would have never come up with anyone good enough for me. She'd have kept me at home."

"She thought that Maggie girl was pretty special," Bronwen reminded him of an old flame in Swansea.

"Only when it was clear I was already interested in you. When I was dating Maggie, Ma never had a good word to say for her. I don't suppose either set of parents is too happy about us right now."

"Don't say that, Evan. Mummy really likes you, and Daddy had to be impressed after you rescued me. Of course, when it comes to your mother . . . I've come to realize I'll never be good enough. But luckily, Swansea is a long way away." She turned and brushed his cheek with a kiss. "Look at the time," she said. "There were so many things I wanted to talk to you about this evening, and now it's bedtime already."

"What did you want to talk about?" Evan asked. "I'm not sleepy yet."

"Well, for one thing, you've got a new murder investigation, and you never got a chance to tell me about it."

"I suspect the actual investigation will be fairly straightforward," Evan said, and gave her basic details. "It's going to boil down to someone who had a grudge against Professor Rogers."

"One of his colleagues, do you think?"

"I can't say yet. We only just spoke to them for a few minutes today. They all seemed normal enough people. If they killed Rogers, then they all came straight in to work as usual and put in a full day with students. That would take a cool head, wouldn't it? Tomorrow I hope Bragg will listen to my suggestion and start interviewing some of the students. We can find out from them if any of their professors seemed particularly stressed or distracted that day. Also, Sergeant Bill Jones in Caernarfon suggested it might be a disgruntled student who took a potshot."

Bronwen looked up and nodded. "Quite possible. They do seem to take grades as a matter of life or death these days, and so many of them can get their hands on guns too." She paused, thinking, and sat up. "You said you hoped Bragg might take your suggestion? Why don't you go and interview the students yourself?"

"Oh dear me, no," Evan said. "I've come up against the ultimate dictator. I've been told I'm the junior officer, and my job is to run errands. I've been with him to interview people all day long, and if I open my mouth I get frowned at. It's not easy, I can tell you, especially since he has this unfortunate, pushy manner. He flings out one question after another and doesn't wait for the full answer to come out or to watch the reaction."

"Evan, that's terrible. Doesn't he know how successful you've been? Didn't you tell him that you've solved cases on your own before now?"

"I rather think he's heard rumors about that and is determined I'm not going to step into his limelight. After all, there must be a reason I was selected for the first team in this new Major Crimes Unit. It must have been a recommendation rather than a punishment, although it feels like the latter."

"Poor Evan." She swiveled around to him and stroked back his unruly dark hair. "We all have our crosses to bear, don't we?"

"I haven't even asked you about school recently, have I? Is that a cross to bear?"

She sighed. "I'll get used to it, I expect. It's just that after twenty students in my own little village school, it's quite a shock to be in a great big, modern classroom. And everything regulated by the bell, and town kids are certainly different from village kids. We've got a mixture of races. Most of the teaching is in English not Welsh, and some of those kids are hopelessly behind in their reading and writing. I seem to spend all my time helping the stragglers and dealing with the problem kids, and the bright, well-behaved kids are left to fend for themselves. It doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"You'll learn how to handle it. You're a brilliant teacher, Bron. I've watched you."

"And you're a brilliant detective. We both need to assert ourselves before we're walked over." She yawned. "I don't know about you, but that extra hour on the bus just about does me in. I'm going to have to go to bed if I'm to catch that bus in the morning." She stood up, then took Evan's hand. "You're not going to let me get into that cold bed all alone, are you?"

Evan needed no second urging.