She could feel her hand shaking, and she shoved it into her handbag. The handbag that had no phone in but was still unbelievably full and heavy in the way of every handbag she’d owned, despite her having cleaned it out and organised it earlier this evening.

‘Louise …’

He said it so quietly. So gently. And Louise felt her body try to sob in fear, but she wouldn’t let it.

Charlie was suddenly there, in front of her, looking at her, but it was somehow better now that he’d found her. This was the worst it could get, and she wasn’t going to die cowering behind a fucking bin.

She stood up straight, and she looked back at him.

‘There you are,’ he said, and his eyes flickered over her and over the bin, and he smiled.

She understood the smile. He was thinking that she’d brought him to the perfect place. Because after he’d killed her, he could simply tip her into the bin and come back for her later.

‘I’m so glad you came,’ he said, with a cheerful little laugh. ‘I can’t believe it’s been quite this perfect, but …’ He glanced over her face. ‘You do remember me now, don’t you?’

Louise nodded, and said, in a voice that wasn’t as steady as she wanted it to be, ‘You’re the one who has to drug girls in order to fuck them.’

His mouth moved. Tightened. His grin went a little awry.

‘Just as much of a bitch as I thought you were,’ he said. ‘You should watch that, Louise. Men don’t like it.’

And here it was. The feeling of strength that Louise had been looking for. She’d pissed him off, and she was going to keep doing it. She was going to make him angry, because she was so very, very done with being afraid.

‘Did you enjoy getting thrown around by him?’ Louise asked. ‘By Alex? He totally owned you.’

Charlie gave a laugh that had no humour in it. ‘Yeah, well. He should have stayed out of it like I told him to. Because I totally killed him.’

She could see in his expression that he was thinking of what he was going to do to her. She watched him, tensely, waiting for his move. Was it going to be a knife this time? Had he brought one?

He looked right and left, up and down the short alleyway, and he seemed satisfied. He stepped towards her, and before she’d had time even to think, his hands were round her throat.

‘Bye-bye, bitch,’ he said, as he lifted her up off the ground with his hands.

It was the worst thing she could remember feeling. It made her want to vomit and kick out at him. And it hurt. Jesus, it hurt.