Michelle could have walked to Rivergate, it wasn’t that far, but it also wasn’t a particularly pleasant walk, and the rain was still pouring down, so she decided to treat herself to a taxi from the station.

The first inkling she got that something was wrong in the flat was when she heard the creaking door of her Mystery screen-saver and saw the lights going on and off in the creepy-looking mansion as the full moon slowly crossed the starlit sky. She knew she had turned her computer off after she’d checked her e-mail that morning. She always did; she was compulsive about it. Also, someone had pulled some of the books out of one of the boxes that she hadn’t got around to unpacking. They weren’t damaged or anything, just piled up on the floor beside the box.

Michelle jogged the mouse and the computer returned to its regular display. Only it was open at Michelle’s file of notes about the Marshall case, and she knew she hadn’t opened that since the previous night. There was nothing secret about her speculations, nothing she had thought would even interest anyone else, so she hadn’t bothered with password protection. In the future, she would know better.

With the hairs prickling at the back of her neck, Michelle stood still and strained her ears for any odd sounds in the flat. Nothing except the clock ticking and the humming of the refrigerator. She took her old side-handled baton from her uniform days out of the closet by the door. Gripping that made her feel a little more courageous as she went to explore the rest of the flat.

The kitchen light was on, and a couple of items that she knew she had put back in the fridge that morning—milk, butter, eggs—lay on the countertop. The butter had melted into a shapeless lump and it oozed over her fingers when she picked it up.

Her bathroom cabinet stood open, and the various pills and potions she kept there were not in their usual order. Her bottle of aspirin sat on the edge of the sink, top off and cotton wool missing. Even as the chills went up her spine, Michelle wondered what the hell all this was about. If someone had searched the place, though she couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to, then why not just leave it in a mess? Clearly, whoever had done this had done it to scare her—and they were succeeding.

She went into the bedroom cautiously, gripping the side-handled baton more tightly, expecting the worst. Nobody jumped out of the wardrobe at her, but what she saw there made her drop her baton and put her hands to her mouth.

There was no mess. Perhaps some of her drawers weren’t completely closed, the way she had left them, but there was no mess. It was much, much worse.

Spread out neatly at the center of the bed lay Melissa’s dress. When Michelle reached out to pick it up, she found it had been cut cleanly into two halves.