He looked down. The edges of the book were clearly aged, the inner pages yellowed. The book was old, and well-thumbed. Grant thought it looked like the one Jessica Bradford had shown him the other week. Frowning, he opened the cover, to take a look at the title page. It wasn’t there. Torn out.

‘Got it from a charity shop,’ Francis said. ‘Twenty pence. Can you believe it? Looks like it’s been read a hundred times over, but still, can’t argue with that price.’

‘No, absolutely not.’

Francis moved forwards and took the book out of Grant’s hands. He placed it on a side table then turned back to Grant.

‘I really do need to get back to what I was doing,’ Francis said.

‘Of course. Thanks for the bulbs.’

‘Anything to help a neighbour and friend.’

Francis showed Grant out and he made his way back across the street. What he’d seen, and the words Francis had spoken, swam in his head.

Friend? Grant wouldn’t call Francis a friend. Not at all. Quite what his neighbour was though, Grant really couldn’t be sure.

Chapter Fifty-Two

She wasn’t sure if she’d been asleep or not when she heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. She was drowsy, groggy, but she didn’t think it was from lack of rest; she must have been drugged.

The footsteps got louder, closer. Her heart drummed in her chest, the tempo upping with each beat and with each tap of the feet on the solid floor.

How long had she been here now? With the sack over her head most of the time, and no evidence of any natural light coming into the room, it was virtually impossible to know.

Memories of the night in the bar, last Friday, flashed in her mind as she listened to the footsteps coming down. The last thing she could remember was walking for a taxi, on her own, but that memory was foggy and patchy. Had she already been drugged by that point? She certainly hadn’t hooked up with anyone in that bar, but could only assume that was how she’d come to be in this ghastly place.

She held her breath when she realised the footsteps had stopped, right by her. When the sack was removed from her head she thought her heart had burst right out of her chest and for a few moments she could do nothing but try to get her breathing under control. As ever, she could see little of the room beyond because of a bright white light blaring into her eyes. The place smelled dank and was echoey. All she could make out other than the light was the shadowy outline of shelving filled with nondescript items. It wasn’t a big place. A store room? A cellar?

‘Good evening, Jessica,’