‘Mrs Shepherd just necklaced Thomas Leis. Crazy psycho bitch that she is.’

He put his tea and biscuits down on the bedside cabinet and picked up the book again. ‘It’s all a bit . . . violent, isn’t it? ’

‘Don’t be such a wimp. Read.’

‘One more hour, then that’s it. Some of us have work tomorrow.’

The nurse with the thick eyebrows and tufty black moustache checked Samantha’s chart. ‘I think it’s sweet that you’re reading to her. Wish I could get Benny to read to me. He’s like a slug when he gets home, just slithers up onto the couch and that’s him for the night. One day I’m going to snap and tip a whole carton of salt over him.’

Logan stretched the knots out of his back. ‘Well, she can have another couple of chapters, then I’m off. Crime doesn’t solve itself.’

The nurse smiled, kissed him on the cheek – the fine hairs on her top lip tickled – then left them alone.

Samantha rolled her eyes. ‘I know, I know: you’re a stud-muffin.’

‘Do you want more book or not? It’s twenty to twelve, I can just go home.’

No reply.

‘Thought so.’ He picked the book up again, skim-reading to where they’d stopped. ‘Right:

“His screams echoed around the tiny bathroom, each wave building on the last – deafening and harsh.

Rowan took a handful of his collar and forced his face down beneath the filthy water again. It sloshed over the edge of the bath onto the cracked floor tiles as he bucked and wriggled beneath the surface. Panicking. Hands tied behind his back, ankles tied to the rusty taps. The only way he’d be able to escape was drown. And she was far too professional for that.

She hauled him up again and he coughed, spluttered, then retched, making the water even dirtier than before.

He sagged there, his shoulders jerking as he sobbed. ‘It wasn’t me, I didn’t know. . .’

‘You see, Mr Breull, some people think the trial by water’s the easiest of the three. I mean, what’s a little water compared to trial by blood, or fire? ’

He went under again, and she leaned her full weight between his shoulders, pinning him to the bottom of the bath. Counted to twelve. Then pulled him back up.

More coughing, more retching, filthy liquid streamed from his nose.

‘One more time: what did you do with Helen Fraser? ’

‘Please. . . Please, I didn’t have any choice. . .’

Rowan slammed his head into the bathroom wall, hard enough to crack the tiles and leave a smear of blood. ‘SHE WAS SIX!’

And back under the water he went.”’

Tuesday

Tuesday

Chapter 23

23

‘Ow. . .’ A burning knife sliced its way down his spine, then dug its glowing tip into his hip. Twisting. ‘God. . .’

Silence.

Then the alarm on his phone warbled again.