To ram home the point to her, he took out his phone and took half a dozen photos from various angles. He thumbed through them, making sure they left no room for doubt. Then he left, turning off all the lights behind him. Nothing suspicious to alert friends or neighbours.

When he arrived home, he poured himself a Jack Daniel’s and Coke and sat down at the breakfast bar, scrolling through the pictures of Marco Mather. He slowly savoured both his drink and the photographs, deciding how best to play the upcoming scene. He uploaded the photographs to his tablet. ‘All the better to see you with,’ he said.

At last, he rinsed his glass, dried it and put it away. Then he went through to the garage, snapping on the harsh white fluorescent tubes that bled life and colour from the scene. He unlocked the lid of the chest freezer and threw it open with a flourish.

The woman’s face was a caricature of surprise and terror. Her hands jerked up to cover her eyes from the shock of the light. He could see her eyelids fluttering through the lattice of her fingers. Normally he liked to go on the attack right away, to catch them on the back foot. But for once, he was happy to wait, to enjoy the anticipation of her reaction.

Gradually, she grew accustomed to the light. One hand slipped down from her face to conceal her breasts. She peeked fearfully at him through the fingers of her other hand. ‘You?’ Incredulity made her voice tiny and tremulous.

‘Here’s the deal. If you scream, I hurt you. And I tape your mouth up so you can never scream again. Is that clear?’

Eyes wide, she bit her lip and nodded.

‘I am the husband. And you are the wife.’

Tears brimmed and spilled from her eyes. ‘I have a husband.’ It was barely a whisper.

He shook his head, smiling indulgently. ‘You used to have a different husband. Now you have me. There’s no going back.’

53