I wanted to tell her that I’m not guilty. Get her thinking about the things that don’t add up. Things that Thistle might be too enraged to see. But if she really hasn’t heard, I can ask her something else that’s been on my mind. ‘I had a question.’

‘Shoot.’

‘That flap of skin from Gomez’s house. You said it had been preserved somehow.’

‘That’s right. But not with formaldehyde—something odourless.’

‘It got me wondering if the killer might have preserved the rest of the victim, too. Do you know if it’s possible to stuff a human being?’

‘With what?’ I can hear noises in the background. A male voice, maybe her husband. Clattering dishes. She’s having an early dinner. Strange to think of her having a normal life outside that icy room I always see her in.

‘Whatever taxidermists use,’ I say.

‘No,’ she says. ‘Separated from the body, skin eventually shrivels and goes scaly, no matter what you pickle it in. A stuffed person wouldn’t last more than a few weeks.’

‘Why doesn’t that happen with animal skin?’

‘It does, but the fur covers it.’

‘Huh. Thanks, doc. It was just a thought.’

She chuckles. ‘Your thoughts are always amusing, Mr Blake. Is there anything else?’

I feel like I should say goodbye to her. We’ve worked well together. And even if I don’t get shot by police over the next few hours, it’s possible that I’ll be the Crawdad Man’s next victim.

‘No,’ I say. ‘Have a nice night.’

‘You too, Mr Blake.’

The line goes dead.

I dial Thistle. The call goes straight to voicemail.

‘You’ve called Agent Reese Thistle. Leave a message.’

Beep.

‘It’s me,’ I say. ‘I’m using myself as bait. The Crawdad Man is the wigmaker, and she’s about to pick me up. You can follow the signal from this phone. Do me a favour, and catch her before she kills me.’

I pause.

‘Listen, I’m sorry,’ I add. ‘There’s a lot of things I should have done differently. But thank you for … for being who you are, I guess. I gotta go.’

I end the call.

I put the phone on silent. Then I wrap it in two condoms.

A few years ago I tried to swallow a big chunk of meat that turned out to have a shard of bone in it. It got stuck halfway down my throat, and I panicked. I thought I was going to die. I wondered how long it would be before my roommate eventually smelled something from my room. He’d bust down my door to find one and a half corpses. The headline would be: CANNIBAL CONSULTANT CHOKES TO DEATH ON VICTIM.