He looked at the blade again and ran the tip of his finger across the gleaming edge. He thought about his brother. Remembered how they played together as kids. Remembered his father telling him that nothing in life mattered more than looking out for his kid brother. Remembered watching as the sheriff’s department cut Jake down from the motel ceiling, when they found him blue and lifeless. Remembered Kirsten Keller smiling on the TV in the motel room as she won Wimbledon. The last thing Jake ever saw. She hadn’t even bothered to come home for the funeral.

The man smiled as he realised the blade had scoured his skin, and a thin ribbon of blood was trickling down his finger and across his palm. People say revenge only hollows you out. That’s bullshit. Killing Rosario had given him a buzz, and killing Keller would be a million times better. He might not live beyond tomorrow, but that was okay. Either way, by tomorrow he would be free.

CHAPTER 24

DESPITE ALL THE planning, when Kirsten Keller walked out onto Centre Court for the final, Foster felt on edge. The court was wide open, and she was too far from his reach. He sat two rows back from the turf, close to the chairs where Keller herself would rest between games. He knew he was getting too emotionally attached, and he knew it was a weakness. But this was the end of it. Tomorrow she’d be gone.

He watched the crowd, searching for anything suspicious. There was nothing. He watched excited fans take their seats and adjust their sunglasses and hats, preparing for a couple of hours in the afternoon heat; people smiling as they squeezed uncomfortably close to each other as they passed in the aisles. Foster turned in his seat and made one last sweep across the crowd behind him. As he did so, his eyes settled on a guy in his late twenties coming up late through the nearest olive-green entrance. He looked cagey, his dark eyes taking in the scene carefully. Every other person who had surfaced from the sunken entrance had instantly smiled. It was a natural reaction, Foster figured, when suddenly emerging into one of the world’s most famous sporting arenas. But this guy didn’t smile. He turned towards Foster as if he could sense his stare. For a moment their eyes connected, and time froze. Then, for no apparent reason, the guy turned on his heel and headed swiftly back down the tunnel.

Foster rose on instinct and followed.