It’s strange talking about love. I used to hate the word. Hate is too strong. I was sick of reading about it in books, hearing it in songs, watching it in films. It seems a huge burden to place on another person – to love them; to give them something so unbelievably fragile and expect them not to break it or lose it or leave it behind on the No. 96 bus.
DC Alisha Barba of the Metropolitan police, nudging 30 and unmarried - despite the attempts of her Sikh family - receives a text from her best friend at school, Cate Beaumont, to attend the school reunion. The two have not spoken in years following a family scandal, and Alisha is reluctant, turning up to find Cate heavily pregnant, meets her husband Felix and runs into the former school bully Paul Donovan, who was expelled and joined the paras. When the Beaumonts turn to leave they are mowed down by a minicab driver (Earl Blake) who swears he never saw the couple. Felix is killed instantly and Alisha accompanies Cate in the ambulance, only to discover that her friend's pregnancy was faked.
This is a book in several parts, the first in London with both Alisha’s and Cate’s families, where she learns that Cate had undergone IVF treatment at a clinic. The minicab driver was released after his statement and “did a runner” - except the man has been dead for years, and retired DI Vincent Ruiz finds a match for the identity theft in a former IRA killer. Paul Donovan seems a slippery character but provides a vital clue in the photo of a girl named Samira, dropped by Cate at the school. But before Alisha can make headway she is intercepted by detective Forbes who drives her to a “crime scene” at Harwich docks and the bodies of four people locked in a container of a truck, including a youth Hasan who had Alisha’s name sewn into his clothing.
In a story that twists and turns Alisha reveals the past through her thoughts, and in the present is assisted by Ruiz and her boyfriend Dave, converging on Amsterdam, where another retired detective, Nicholaas Hokke. gives day and night tours of the infamous red-light district, seeking out the mysterious Samira, encountering another girl and a sociopath on the way.
I don’t see him until the last moment. He’s almost past me. Gaunt-cheeked, hair teased with fingers and gel, he skips from the pavement to the gutter and back again, dodging people. He’s carrying a canvas bag over his shoulder. A bottle of soft drink protrudes from the top. He looks over his shoulder. He knows he is being followed but he’s not scared...
Another city, another hospital, another detective (Spijker) of the Amsterdam police, chasing down people-smuggling operations. Another dead body and a sinister “Mr Big” who “runs” Amsterdam gives Alisha the heads up that the heavily-pregnant Samira is to be smuggled out of the country on the Night Ferry to the UK.
Yet again Michael Robotham serves up a tense thriller, character-driven and with enough drama to satisfy any adrenaline-junkie. Sad in parts, it works beautifully as Alisha is from a ‘minority’ and tries to relate to the asylum-seeker Samira. The ending was both satisfying and sweet, leaving a few loose ends that took nothing away from the story.