‘Anything you want. It’s your choice.’

The word rings through Pace’s ears as he tries to focus on his therapist’s eyes. Behind the older man, on the walls, Pace sees black flames creeping in from the sides. He doesn’t want to but instinctively looks over his shoulder. He can’t tell Artaud about what he sees. He can’t say that he thinks he is being followed. He can’t share his darker thoughts that bad things happen around him. And it’s not just his job, he knows that. Dr Artaud would incinerate his report and rubber-stamp a new one with the words delusional paranoia or something.

‘This is still a safe place, Detective. There’s no fear of judgement in here. Less so, today.’

No fear.

Pace closes his eyes for a moment and breathes, just as Artaud taught him in week two. When he opens his eyes, the flames have disappeared.

The detective shuts his eyes once more and exhales, ready to talk. His choice. He does not fear. The report is written. What he says today is not important. He opens his eyes again and Artaud is scribbling on his yellow legal pad. He doesn’t look at the time on his phone but several minutes have passed that he cannot account for. He worries.

‘Breathe, detective. This is not the end. Not yet.’

Pace does as he is told.

‘What were we talking about?’

‘You said you had visited both bridges even though it is not your case.’

‘I did?’

‘Yes. Would you like some water?’ The doctor moves over to a jug of water on a side cabinet and pours his patient a glass before walking it around to him. ‘What is it that so interests you in the case?’ He sits back behind his desk and takes the lid off his pen.

‘Who isn’t interested? The guys running the case are in the middle of a real shitstorm, I tell you. They’ve got nothing. And bodies are showing up everywhere. Membership has gone global and nobody knows where to look.’

‘But you do?’

‘Not really. I’ll probably just show up at the next bridge, scratching my head like the rest of them.’ He takes a sip of water. He has forgotten about the shadows and the flames.

‘Another bridge?’

‘Come on, Doctor, there’s going to be another bridge. And another one after that. Until the person behind this is caught.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘This is how it works. It builds up. More people. More risk. Until somebody fucks up and blows the case wide open. Maybe they taunt the police or they go along to watch somebody die. Eventually, these psychos want to get caught. It’s the only way they can stop.’

Artaud makes a note on his pad.

‘Wait. What are you writing down there? I thought we were just talking.’ Pace is agitated.

‘Detective, you will get a chance to read my report.’