He leans across for a closer look at Archer’s phone. The message is from a number that has rung several times without leaving a voicemail.

He opens the message.

Dear DI Archer,

I fear we may have got off to a bad start this morning and for that I send my humblest apologies. But I would like to reiterate my offer of telling your story. Considering what happened to you back then, the public’s interest in this case, and you, of course, will rocket. You’ll be famous and there’ll be money too. Please contact me ASAP.

Yours,

Mike H.

He sits up, not quite believing who the message is from.

Of all people.

Hamilton wants her story. But what is her story? He types a return message.

Which story are you referring to?

Grace

The ellipsis appears as Hamilton types his response.

Bernard Morrice

He blinks and feels a tingling in chest. The Bernard Morrice?

Hamilton is typing another message.

I have information from sources and some photographs I took of you at St Martin’s a few days back. Hope you don’t mind ;-) I’d like to use one or two of them? I can send them to you and you can say yes or no and then I’ll write up the piece and send that on later. Perhaps we can meet up?

He ponders what to say before responding.

Please do that. Let’s keep this quiet. Just me and you. Send me your address, please.

G x

Hamilton replies with a smiley face and an X.

He smiles to himself. The day has ended well.

Chapter 29

29

THE MAN’S WORDS TUMBLE THROUGH Jordan’s mind like a flock of Angry Birds.

‘Where’s my mum?’ Jordan had asked.

‘She is . . . she is . . . somewhere else.’ His voice was deep and not unfriendly, but there was a coldness to it that frightened him.

‘Is she dead?’

‘Yes.’

He didn’t want to believe it, but Jordan knew it was true. Didn’t he witness the man squeeze her neck and stand frozen as she dropped to the ground? He has played that scene over and over in his head. A small part of him couldn’t quite accept it, but when he heard it direct from the killer’s mouth, Jordan crumpled and sobbed, his shattered heart crushing into dust.

The man said nothing. He just watched.

Tears stung Jordan’s eyes and snot ran from his nose. His chest heaved as he wiped his face with his sleeves. ‘W-w-why?’

The man sighed. ‘Don’t be sad, Jordan. She’s in a better place.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means she’ll be preserved in the hearts and minds of generations to come.’

Jordan scratched his temples hard. He was terrified but deep down an anger was racing to the surface. ‘I don’t know what that means. You’re not making sense!’