‘He wanted to know what I did and how much it would cost him.’ He tugged at his earlobe a second, then shook his head. ‘I laid it all out for him and he said he’d have a think about it and call me back. When he didn’t, I assumed it was because he’d changed his mind. Now I know the real reason. Pretty spooky, when you think about it. I’ll swing by the cop shop on my way to work in the morning and straighten it all out – won’t mention that Bobbi gave us that heads up, of course,’ Ray said. ‘Belport is a small place. I’m probably one of a dozen locals he came into contact with.’

Nodding, Abby said, ‘He ordered something from Speedy Pizza.’

‘There you go,’ he said, and tugged at his earlobe again.

If Ray had told her this before she opened the first-aid kit, Abby might have believed him. There would have been no reason not to. But if he could keep a secret like that, how was she supposed to separate the fiction from the nonfiction? Then again, she had to believe him, didn’t she? What was the alternative?

She wanted to ask him about the magazines then but wasn’t sure she wanted to know why he had them. All she could manage to say was, ‘Ray, do I have anything to be worried about?’

He looked at her a moment, then grinned, bound his wrists with invisible handcuffs and offered them to Abby.

‘You got me, copper,’ he said.

Abby didn’t think that was very funny.

15

THE WIDOW

Clank … Clank … CLANK!

The noise was coming from outside. It was the middle of the night, but the noise hadn’t woken Kate. As far as she could remember, she hadn’t slept at all since turning off the bedside lamp.

She listened.

Clank … CLANK!

She climbed quietly out of bed, thudding her knee against a chair in the dark. She reached the window and drew back the curtain, half expecting to see a deranged killer trying to break into the room. Instead, she saw Fisher. He was dressed in a tattered motel robe, empty steel bucket in hand, swaying drunkenly and harassing the ice machine.

He yanked at the machine’s lid. It caught. He set the steel bucket down on the ground, kneeled and tried again. He was apparently too shit-faced to notice the sign, taped not half a metre from his face, declaring in bright red letters: Out of order, sorry 4 inconveniens.

‘Goddamn fucking thing,’ he muttered, giving up. As he climbed to his feet, he knocked the steel bucket and sent it rolling. He watched it roll, then shrugged. Abandoning the bucket, he ambled back to his room, swaying left and right as he walked. Kate watched him struggle with the lock, then finally fall inside.