The first phone call had come an hour later. The Daily Herald wanted a feature by the end of the day. They wanted to run it under the headline Brave Journalist Risks All for Justice – My Experience with the Crucifix Killer, and they needed it soon.

‘So can you do it?’ Sid Jones – the editor of the Herald – asked.

Sid Jones had emailed, asking for her phone number, then called to pitch the article to her.

Him, pitching to her.

‘I can,’ she said. ‘I’ll send it over later.’

‘Email it to me direct,’ he said. ‘I’ll be waiting for it. This is the perfect story. The killer was at your house. Once they’re caught, there’s a best-selling book in this. I know some agents. I can put you in touch, if you’d like?’

‘That would be amazing.’ She realized she was grinning. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. And send that story asap.’

He ended the call and she got to her feet and walked into the kitchen.

‘Tom,’ she said. ‘That was Sid Jones. The editor of the Daily Herald.’

He was sitting at the table, a jar of baby food in one hand and green spoon in the other. Jo had orange food smeared around her mouth.

‘Really?’ He did not smile. ‘What did he – or she – want?’

‘A story. On the letters.’

He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. ‘I thought we agreed this has to stop.’

‘It’s the Herald,’ Alice said. ‘It’s a national newspaper.’

‘And this is our family.’

‘He said he’ll put me in touch with an agent. About a book.’

‘Hopefully you’re alive to write it.’ He lifted the spoon to Jo’s mouth and she ate some more of the orange food. A small globule rolled down her chin.

‘Tom. We talked about this. We’re not in any danger. I told him no photos of me. Nothing personal at all.’

‘A serial killer puts a letter through your door in the middle of the night, and we’re not in any danger?’ He gave a sardonic laugh. ‘What would be danger, in your world?’

‘It’s not that simple, Tom, and you know it. The letters are a way of getting involved in the investigation. This guy doesn’t want to harm me. Serial killers have a specific way of getting their kicks. We’re safe, Tom.’

‘I don’t agree.’ He fed the last of the jar to Jo, and put the lid back on. ‘But nothing I can say will change your mind. I’m taking Jo for a walk.’

‘I’m taking her to the doctor at ten,’ Alice said. ‘Can you be back by then?’

He nodded.

‘See you later. Good luck writing your story.’

Tom