‘Come on, then,’ she said. ‘Let’s have a look at this Facebook account.’

Patrick went behind her desk and brought up the Facebook site, typing in the email and password Winkler had given him. He found himself on Helen’s wall. He quickly scrolled up and down but couldn’t see anything interesting. As Winkler had said, she had done nothing but like and share posts about Frankie in the past few days.

Then he went to her inbox and read her most recent messages, Suzanne reading over his shoulder.

‘Oh my god,’ she breathed in his ear.

They stared at each other and Suzanne said, ‘Go. Now.’

Chapter 43

Chapter 43
Jerome – Day 7

Jerome had the new Chase and Status album turned down low on the car stereo, not wanting to draw attention to himself, not wanting to hurt Rihanna’s sensitive ears either. He turned and looked at the dog, sleeping like a baby on the backseat. She’d been all sensitive and twitchy since yesterday, after ripping that little bitch’s face off. If Georgia survived – and Jerome needed to keep an eye on that situation, though he was pretty damn sure she wouldn’t dare rat on him – she had better get used to doing it doggy style, because no guy was going to want to look at that wreckage of a face while he was banging her.

Last night, soon as he’d got home, he’d called up his boy Snowglobe – named because he had the worst case of dandruff in TW11 – and instructed him to put the word out that he was looking for a VW Camper Van with the registration number that could clearly be seen in the photo Georgia had taken.

‘A VW Camper?’ Snowglobe said. ‘That’s like that fucking thing that Benny had on the front of his T-shirt?’

‘That’s the one.’

‘Nice. What, is it like a mobile meth lab or something?’

‘Just put the word out to everybody. This is priority one, you get me? Five hundred to the person who spots it and reports back. But I don’t want no one going near it, alright?’

He thought it might take days for someone to spot the van, but he got lucky. This morning he’d got the call. Some muppet mate of Snowglobe’s called Niall had spent the night in Richmond Park with some piece of ass who was well into outdoor sex. As Niall had staggered off into the morning light at the crack of dawn he’d spotted the camper. It took the twat three hours to get round to reporting back, which meant his reward was going to be halved, but what the fuck. Jerome had a sighting – it was outside the Grant’s Hotel by the park gates – and he was on his way to check it out.