I spent three terrifying minutes punching myself in the solar plexus, and eventually managed to hack the chunk back up. I knew it had been a narrow escape, so I taught myself some tricks to suppress my gag reflex.

I take a few deep breaths, and then I put Charlie Warner’s phone in my mouth. It’s a small phone, but it still seems way too big once it’s actually in my mouth. But I just picture the ocean, the grey water lapping at the shore in Galveston, and push. As the phone goes further and further down my oesophagus, I clench my left hand into a fist. I’m not sure why that helps, but it always does. Before I know it, the phone is gone, and I’m gasping for air. Then I wipe the drool off my chin, grab five hundred dollars from Shannon’s stack, and get out of the car.

I don’t want Sleeping Beauty to know which car is mine. She’ll see it parked in a visitor space and get suspicious, realising that I don’t live here. I walk a few feet away, rubbing my palms together in the cold.

A song is stuck in my head.

Standing on the corner with a dollar in my hand, honey

Standing on the corner with a dollar in my hand, babe

Standing on the corner with a dollar in my hand

Standing here waiting for the Crawdad Man …

Headlights on the horizon. She’s here.

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 44

What eight-letter word contains every letter?

Gomez wasn’t wrong—she is beautiful. Long eyelashes, long neck, full lips with a faint gloss. As she rolls down the car window, she flashes me a perfect smile, like a movie star meeting a fan.

‘Hey, handsome,’ she says, like she means it. ‘Come on in out of the cold.’

She’s not wearing her blonde wig, and I realise that I’ve seen her before. Not just in the corridor outside Biggs’s office. I saw her at the cabin in the woods, flirting with the nervous black man.

The hair threw me, so I didn’t recognise her at the time. Hopefully my lack of hair throws her, too. I should have figured all this out way earlier.

I hurry over to the car and get in. The seats are supple leather. The radio plays Norah Jones, soft enough that I can only just hear the upright bass under her smoky voice.

‘Nice to meet you, Hank,’ the woman says. Her eyes are wide and sky blue.

I shake her hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Sleeping Beauty.’

She laughs. ‘Oh, no. I’m Cindy. Sleeping Beauty is waiting for you. You’ll meet her soon enough.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

I look out the window. No flashing lights, no sirens. Thistle must not have heard my message yet.

Cindy reaches over, and touches my cheek with her knuckles. She has a French manicure.