Jamie’s expression darkens and he looks away. ‘I thought I was meeting a client.’ He squeezes her hand softly. ‘I’m such a fool.’

‘Did you see him?’

Jamie shakes his head. ‘I woke in that room with the stench of formaldehyde. My hands were tied, I was cold and practically naked. He wore a mask with a bleeding “@” symbol on it. He held a knife to our throats one at a time and made us climb the ladder. He then put the rope around our necks and made us stand on top of the cabinets before he started filming.’

‘When did he leave?’

‘Some time before I saw the camera light come on and it started filming.’

‘How long?’

‘It’s hard to tell. Perhaps thirty or forty minutes.’

‘Did you get a sense of anything about him: how he spoke, his eye colour, his clothes, his build?’

‘It was difficult because he wore a rubber suit and the mask. He was certainly strong, athletic. Around my height. There wasn’t much light but I’m sure through his mask I could see dark hair.’

‘Did you see his face? Would you be able to recognise him?’

‘I’m afraid not but there was something—’

‘Tell me.’

‘I resisted and tried to push him away, but he threatened me.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He said, “Get up the fucking ladder!” I noticed an accent. I’m sure of it.’

‘What sort of accent?’

‘It was hard to tell as his voice was muffled but it could have been Scottish. Or Irish, perhaps.’

Archer is quiet for a moment, lost in her own thoughts.

‘What’s on your mind?’ asks Jamie.

Her brow furrows.

‘You look so cute when you do that.’

Archer doesn’t quite take the compliment in. ‘It’s just odd that he selected you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I know you, this is my investigation and he chooses you for his exhibition.’

‘Could be a coincidence.’

‘Have you ever been to the Lumberyard Café?’

‘In Seven Dials?’

Archer nods.

‘I sometimes meet friends or clients there. Why do you ask?’

‘I think he uses that café as one of the places where he finds his victims. He sees them in the flesh and assesses their suitability. He then checks their Facebook, Instagram or dating accounts and uses their online content to understand them, connect with them and eventually hunt them down.’

Jamie’s blood-red eyes widen. ‘Wow. That’s quite a theory.’

‘Has someone connected with you recently that you don’t know?’ asks Archer.

Before he can answer, a thought occurs to Archer and she tenses.

Jamie can feel her stiffening. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing,’ she replies.

‘Tell me,’ he urges.

‘The killer didn’t succeed in killing you.’

‘Thankfully . . .’

‘His work is incomplete.’

‘You think he’ll come after me again?’

Archer tries to sound reassuring. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. But we can’t discount it.’

‘You’re right.’