‘Well,’ he said. ‘It’s in the lap of the gods now.’

‘That’s not where I want it,’ Wynne said. ‘I want it in my hands.’

Her phone buzzed. She looked at the number.

‘It’s him,’ she said. ‘PC Travis.’

‘Looks like there might be some news after all,’ Dudek said.

She shushed him and answered the phone. ‘Hello?’

‘We found the car,’ Travis said. ‘It’s parked on a roadside near the cliffs. Two officers are at the scene.’

‘Are you sure it’s his car?’

‘Yes. They ran the licence plates. It’s him.’

‘What are the officers doing?’

‘They’re looking for Sanderson and Annabelle. They haven’t found them yet.’

‘Tell them to look faster,’ Wynne said. ‘And get as many people as you can there, right now.’

‘We are. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something.’

Wynne put the phone down and looked at Dudek.

‘We’ve got him,’ she said, but she did not feel any joy. ‘I just hope that’s good enough. Because this is a race against time, now. They have to get to him before he kills Annabelle Westbrook.’

Here we are.

The ledge is narrower and rougher than I remembered. It is chalky underfoot, of course, and slippery with rain. It is also hidden from view. I had a worry that it was not, but that worry was ill-founded.

I push her to the edge. It is a sheer drop to jagged rocks on which the sea is pounding.

‘Fittingly dramatic,’ I say. ‘This would be a good place for someone in your books to commit suicide. Shame you won’t be writing any more, though, isn’t it?’

She tries to step back from the fall. I hold her in place. I want her to be able to contemplate what is going to happen to her, imagine herself falling, falling, to the hard ground below.

‘Well,’ I say. ‘I must admit to a little disappointment, Annabelle. This is a lot easier than I imagined. It’s such a shame it didn’t work out for us. I mean, if only you had a little more imagination, you could have gone along with my plan. A bit of plastic surgery, a new look, and a life of pleasure. I would have got you whatever you wanted. You can see now that I am good at getting things.’ I sigh. ‘But, you chose this.’

She shakes her head and muffled sounds come out. She is trying to tell me she didn’t choose this, or something equally banal. She thinks she didn’t choose it because she doesn’t want it, but that’s just another example of her lack of vision. She chose it implicitly when she rejected me.

‘This is your doing,’ I say. ‘I want you to know that.’

I push her closer to the edge of the cliff. She resists. She pushes back, hard.