They passed Peterborough, Newark, Grantham, Doncaster. Zelda thought and thought about what she had done and whether she would ever have to pay the price. She was certain that Goran’s gang would make sure any evidence of his murder was swept under the carpet, and that there would be no police involvement. But what then? Would they just let it go or carry out their own investigation? And if that led to her, would they carry out their own form of vengeance? She shivered. It didn’t bear thinking about.

But what if his pals didn’t find him first? What if a hotel worker had become suspicious of the DO NOT DISTURB sign for some reason and opened the room and called the police? If the police got to the scene before Petar Tadić, Keane and the others could dispose of Goran’s body, they would start to ask questions. Would the trail lead to her? She had cleaned up, but had she done it well enough? Would they find the waitress from the restaurant and Faye Butler? The young jogger who had approached her as she was dumping the knife in the river? Would they be able to find the knife? Would the water have washed away all her fingerprints and any remaining traces of Tadić’s blood?

Even if there was no forensic evidence, they could probably trace her movements. Someone would remember the attractive woman in the hotel bar, would remember that she had let the victim pick her up and take her to his room. Forensic officers would go over the room carefully. They would find traces of her. A hair here, a fingerprint there. DNA. The staff at the hotel reception desk must have seen them walking toward the lifts. Maybe someone had even seen her hurrying out alone after the murder. The concierge? The taxi driver? They would tell their stories. Describe her in detail. And what about the security cameras? An identikit image would be published in all the papers and shown on television.