The perplexed look on his face suddenly seems hilarious. I can’t stop a mad grin from twisting my bleeding lips.

‘You’re way out of your depth, Shannon,’ I say. ‘You have no clue what’s going on.’

He laughs uneasily and turns his eyes back to the road. ‘You’re a funny one,’ he says. ‘Maybe Fred will like you after all.’

We’re approaching a bend. I reach for the handbrake. But Shannon slows down. I retract my hand before he notices it.

‘First stop,’ Shannon says.

A young woman is waiting out front of an apartment block, walking back and forth, stomping her feet in the cold. She’s small, with dark hair and a fur-lined hoodie. As the car gets closer, I think I recognise her from one of the naked photos in Luxford’s desk.

He rolls down his window. ‘Hi, Macy.’

Macy digs something out of her pocket and thrusts it through the window. A driver’s licence.

‘I did it,’ she says. ‘But I need it back by tomorrow morning, okay? Before he notices that it’s missing.’

Shannon studies the licence. ‘Yeah, sure. No problem.’

Macy can tell he’s lying. ‘I’m serious,’ she insists. ‘I’ve done everything you ever asked, okay? If you don’t get it back on time, he’ll know I took it.’

She’s scared, but not enough to have seen the news. She doesn’t know that Shannon kidnapped a woman and kept her imprisoned for months. She certainly doesn’t know he’s a suspect in the Crawdad Man killings.

‘Relax,’ Shannon says. ‘You’ll get it back.’

Macy’s eyes settle on me. ‘Who’s this?’

‘He’s no one.’

I could try to tell her what’s going on. There’s a chance that she could help me. But Luxford might kill her.

‘I’m no one,’ I repeat.

Shannon smirks. ‘Good boy. See you around, Macy.’

He rolls up the window and drives off. In the side mirror I can see Macy pacing again, worried that he won’t come back.

If he doesn’t, she might tell the cops everything. She might mention me. Maybe they’ll find us before Fred kills me.

‘Who was she?’ I ask, although I already know.

‘Just a girl who owes me a favour,’ Shannon says.

‘Because you have naked pictures of her?’

‘Right. I forgot that you’d seen those. She’s nice, right?’

He doesn’t mean her personality. ‘How many girls owe you a favour?’ I ask.

‘Enough to get me this car, a fake ID and a few thousand dollars,’ Shannon says. ‘And a gift for Fred.’

‘You mean me.’

‘Not just you.’ He slaps my knee. ‘This is cool, right? Getting to talk man to man. No more pretending.’