‘Hardly felt it,’ he said. ‘Maybe you’re not so bad at this.’

Paula had always allowed herself a bit of vanity about her needle technique—she could give injections with minimal pain and take blood skilfully from even the most decrepit elderly patient with crumbly veins.

While Paula drew up blood into the vials, Ferguson kept rabbiting on. ‘Yeah, I’ll award you points for being good at that bit,’ he said. ‘I’m the kind of guy who respects someone who can do their job properly. I’m always having to remind clients how good I am at my job. You get some people—they go, “There’s no way you can pull off X result or fix Y problem or find Z person.” And I say, “Mate, watch and learn.” Fact is, I can track down any-fucking-body any-fucking-where they’re hiding. That’s why my business is successful.’

He was boasting now, keen for Paula to be impressed by him.

‘People don’t realise how doable it is to track people. With the right know-how, that is,’ he crowed. ‘I employ a couple of scrawny kids who are across the digital stuff, backed up by the old-fashioned legwork involved in tracing an individual. I will find that individual eventually, even if they try very hard not to be found.’

He grunted a laugh and Paula heard Rochelle’s voice in her head. He can find people—that’s what he does for a living, okay? He said he’d find me, then kill Brody in front of me.

Paula gave in to the urge to dig a little. ‘Rochelle mentioned you have your own business, but I don’t think I really understood—’

‘Pfft, don’t waste brain cells listening to her blab on too much. She’s a fucking whiner, my wife. You’ve probably seen her fussing over that boy like—oh … And then, Jesus H. Christ, she whines at me!’

‘Oh well, I’m sure Rochelle has her own point of view about—’

Even that tiny amount of pushback from Paula ignited Ferguson into more open belligerence.

He shook his head. ‘She talks a lot of bullshit. Mind you, she understands she’s on a good wicket. She tried leaving me once, but I found her. We laid down a few ground rules after that.’

‘Ground rules? What sort of ground rules?’

‘Point is, I’m very clear with her. And if Rochelle ever tries to take my kid, I’ll find her, sort her out.’

Paula knew she should leave him to keep talking, keep revealing himself, but she couldn’t bear to let that go unchallenged. ‘Sort her out? What do you mean?’

Ferguson responded with a few breathy laughs, realising he’d revealed more aggression than he’d intended. ‘I’m joking.’