‘Hello, Sullivan Knight Solicitors. How can I help?’

‘It’s Bailey Pike speaking. I’d like to talk to Mr Knight please.’

‘Just putting you through.’

Several seconds of Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata’, then Frank.

‘Hello?’ he said, a cautious tone in his voice.

‘It’s okay, Frank,’ she said. ‘No one’s listening in this time.’

‘Good. What happened? Is everything okay?’

She heard the worry in his voice, and it reassured her that he still cared for her as her boss.

‘Yeah. Just a little hiccup with my cover. I think I managed to straighten it out though.’

She glanced over her shoulder. She couldn’t spot any of the gang in the vicinity. Even so, she tucked herself further into the phone booth.

‘I want you to check something out for me. A name. A person.’

‘Who?’

‘Felicia Lee.’

‘Who’s that?’

She outlined the meagre amount of information she knew.

‘I thought you said Sharon was just in the wrong place at the wrong time,’ he said.

‘She wrote that name for a reason.’

‘Why would she write the name of her former cellmate in her own blood?’

‘Beats me. That’s why I want you to try and track her down.’

‘You said she escaped two years ago. That’s a long time. She could be anywhere by now.’

‘We’ve got four days until the next murder.’

‘I’ll do what I can but don’t get your hopes up.’

‘Felicia Lee is the key to this whole thing. I’m sure of it.’

Chapter 92

The razor blade lay on the table between the stack of coloured paper and the ashtray. On the edge of the ashtray balanced a half-smoked joint waiting to be relit.

Long brown bony fingers skittered like two spiders mating as they expertly folded a red piece of paper. Mountain fold… valley fold… reverse fold… pivot fold… sink fold…

The fingers manipulated the paper with expert dexterity, twisting and creasing it into the desired shape. Gradually it took form…

Chapter 93

Bailey sat outside in the yard on one of the concrete benches, her eyes closed, her face to the sky, savouring the sensation of the warm July sun on her skin on this bright fresh morning, taking the opportunity to absorb a bit of vitamin D before she was locked up back indoors again.

With her eyes closed, she could almost pretend that she wasn’t in prison but on some beach somewhere, tanning herself. She certainly didn’t need to be looking at the prison. Even nice summer weather like this couldn’t do much to soften its oppressiveness.

As she sat there, she became aware, all of a sudden, that something was blocking out the warm light of the sun. She opened her eyes and blinked.

A figure stood over her, silhouetted against the sun, the features not immediately visible. But that distinctive frayed afro was enough to tell her who it was.

A brown hand placed something on the table in front of her.

It was a small red origami creature.