Heart failure. The number-one cause of death in the USA. I still don’t know how Biggs ended up naked in the woods, or why his car and phone ended up at the dump. But it’s possible that he died of a heart attack while fleeing from his abductor. If that’s the case, the person who took him—the one who sealed him in that shipping container, who presumably also abducted Ruthven—might not even realise he’s dead.

•

I’m getting into my car when Shawn opens his front door. Probably not coincidence. More likely he’s been waiting for me to leave.

Sure enough, he waves to get my attention as he jogs over. He’s holding an empty plastic tray. The dog is watching from the window, paws against the glass.

I wind down the window, teeth chattering in the cold.

Shawn twists his face into a grimace and puts on a funny voice as he approaches. ‘Hey, buddy. You got a dead cat in there, or what?’

‘Excuse me?’

He drops the voice, looks disappointed. ‘It’s from Terminator. You haven’t seen it?’

‘No.’

He shrugs. ‘So anyway, I smelled something funny near your place. Caitlin smelled it first, led me right to your doorstep. Thought I’d let you know. You used rat poison lately?’ ‘Nah,’ I say. ‘Gives me hives.’

He hesitates for a moment before laughing. ‘Okay. Well, maybe you got a dead rat under your fridge, or a racoon died in your trash can or something. Or there’s a dead body under your floorboards.’

He laughs again. I laugh too, thinking about the off smell from Elliott’s body.

‘Thought I should tell you,’ he says. ‘You know how you can’t smell your own house? You wouldn’t want your new lady friend smelling it like that.’

Thistle would certainly recognise the smell of death. ‘No, sir, I would not,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’

‘No problemo.’ He sees me looking at the plastic tray. ‘Oh, I gotta take this with me whenever I leave the house. So Caitlin thinks I’m taking the recycling out, and not going for a walk without her.’

The dog starts barking at the window. Maybe she heard her name through the glass.

‘Gotta go,’ Shawn says. ‘Hasta la vista, baby.’

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 14

I am fatally wounded with a blade before I am given away as a gift. The receiver keeps me alive as long as possible, but I always die. What am I?

Francis isn’t due to deliver the next body until one am. It’s ten pm now—I have some time to kill.

I park further off the road than usual, bumping down the grassy slope and waiting until the hood is nudging the shrubbery before I kill the engine. I don’t want everyone who drives past getting a good look at my car.