“What the fuck?” He checks his fingertips for blood. A tiny stream has opened up, changing the neck of his T-shirt to crimson. He starts to back up, his right arm out front of him like a barrier.

“You think you can come in here and terrify me?” I keep pace with him, the knife high and glistening. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with. You don’t know what I’m capable of.” He’s retreated so far now that he slams into the wall by the front door, his elbow splitting the middle of Chase’s ski canvas, ruining it. “I could cut your throat and watch you drown, and nobody would ever question it.” I push my arm into his chest, pin him there, the blade pressing so hard against his Adam’s apple that the skin bulges around the silver. For so long I’ve wanted to push the lowlifes and the wasters down, and finally I get the chance. Blood rages through my body.

“Get out of my house and stay away from my sister.” His eyes show me nothing but fear. He’s all bravado, a sham, just a weak, beaten dog.

When I release him I keep the knife high like I’ll stab, and he scrambles for an escape, runs for the hallway, clatters down the stairs. I hear the door at the front entrance slam behind him.

As soon as he’s gone, I throw the front door closed and bolt it. It’s silent again, and I stagger toward the kitchen and wash off the knife in the sink, frantically clean the drops of blood on the floor, rinsing it all away in the sink. I look at Chase’s ruined picture. Holy shit. That escalated so quickly. I head for the bed at the far end of the loft and sit down with my palms on my cheeks, legs shaking. Will Eli come back? Should I call Sully? I close my eyes for a minute and try to steady my head. At least it was me who was here when he came. If it was Chase, it would have ended differently. If it were Ruth … The thought makes me feel sick. It’s okay, I tell myself. You did it. You did everything that needed to be done.

Along the skirting board to the left of the bed is a large vent, the screws of which I removed ages ago, although Chase never noticed. I bend low and pry off the front cover at one corner, lay it gently to one side on the floor. In the gap behind the vent is the Folgers coffee tin, round and shiny, the tape wrenched from the lid just like it was when I found it under the bathroom sink. Inside is everything Eli was looking for, everything Ruth thinks she’s lost.