Thanks to all the readers who took a chance on Hangman and then, instead of demanding that the author be institutionalised, submitted riddles and volunteered to have characters named after them in the sequel. Sorry I couldn’t use everybody! Apologies to Shannon Luxford, who’s a very nice person in real life.

SNEAK PEEK: HIDEOUT

CHAPTER 1

Eject my skin so it won’t be found. What am I?

‘The other guys?’ I say.

‘Sure.’ Fred smiles. ‘You didn’t think it was just me out here, did you?’

That’s exactly what I thought. The plan was simple: kill Fred, then myself. But my only weapon is the hammer tucked into the back of my pants. If Fred has friends in this house, I’m in a whole world of trouble.

‘Great,’ I say. ‘Can’t wait to meet them.’

Fred is looking at the car I arrived in: a midnight-blue sedan, with supple leather seats and a stereo still playing light jazz, even though the engine is off. Blood on the passenger’s seat, mud on the driver’s. A bullet hole low on one of the doors.

Fred looks at the hole for a strangely long time. A shadow crosses his face.

‘Nice ride, Lux,’ he says finally.

‘Not my car.’ Not my name, either.

He nods, unsurprised. ‘Anyone looking for it?’

‘Maybe. Probably.’

‘I’ll tell Kyle to take care of that.’ He holds out a hand for my keys.

If I give them to him, I’m trapped. If I don’t, he might realise I’m not Lux.

‘You don’t need to do that,’ I say.

Fred waves this off. ‘It’s no trouble.’

Hesitating any longer would look suspicious. I pass him the keys. He slides the car key off the ring and tosses the rest back.

‘It’s fine for tonight, though,’ Fred says. ‘No one will see it. We’re miles from anywhere.’

He’s not wrong. The house is in the middle of the woods, at the end of a long driveway off a dirt road. None of my contacts at the FBI know where I am. I don’t even have a phone. If I die out here, no one will ever know what happened to me. That was the point.

‘Come on,’ Fred says. ‘You must be freezing.’

‘Yeah.’ My tattered white shirt, suit jacket and thin socks offer no protection from the night air, and I’m still getting used to having a shaved head. My ears hurt. Hunger burns in my gut, or maybe it’s fear. I broke my nose in a car crash two days ago—I can still taste blood pooling at the back of my throat.

Fred locks the car with the key remote. The music and the interior lights fade out, like in a cinema when the movie’s about to start. We crunch across the gravel towards the house.