He scrutinised her apprehensively and rubbed his chin. ‘Hmm. I don’t know. Maybe we should pull you out. This job seems to be getting quite hazardous.’

She knew his concern for her was rooted in a deep-seated guilt he’d held ever since the fiasco with the car theft gang. Operational security was something he prided himself on, and on that occasion it had been breached catastrophically. It had been his operation and he felt responsible. She knew he’d made it his mission ever since to get to the bottom of how her cover had got blown on that job, although as far as she was aware he hadn’t come up with any tangible leads.

‘Every undercover job is hazardous,’ she replied. ‘That’s the nature of what I do. You should know that.’

‘There’s no guarantee they don’t think you’re a cop,’ he said. ‘They could just be waiting for a more opportune moment to kill you.’

‘I’ll take that risk. I want to stay. I feel like I’m close to nailing them.’

Frank sighed. ‘If you say so. But I also have a feeling you’re sticking this out for personal reasons. Because of your sister.’

‘You’re not wrong. I do have a personal stake in this and that’s one thing I’m not willing to give up on either.’

‘Just don’t let it cloud your judgement,’ he said, standing up to leave.

She sat there on the sofa pondering his words as he walked over to the door.

‘Frank,’ she said, looking up.

He stopped in the hallway, turning around. ‘Yeah?’

‘Thanks for saving my bacon.’

He smiled at the police-related pun. ‘Glad to see you haven’t lost your sense of humour, Bailey.’ He paused. ‘Anyhow, I know you’d do the same for me.’

45

Dennis Morgan lay asleep in his bed in the hospice while Bailey sat by his side watching him and thinking about how he seemed to be sleeping a hell of a lot these days. She guessed it must partially be due to all the drugs he was on. All those painkillers. As she recalled, he’d said the doctors would progressively increase the dosages as his condition got more serious.

It concerned her to see how much he had deteriorated since her last visit. He was substantially paler, thinner and more deeply lined than before, and she knew it would only get worse. It broke her heart to see him looking so frail, remembering how active he’d been not so long ago, going on hikes in the countryside with her mother and playing tennis with his friends.

She knew he would be dead soon. Gone forever. Everybody died sooner or later, but you never got used to it when it was someone close to you, especially when it felt so out of the blue – after all, it was only two months ago that they’d been sitting together having Christmas dinner.

She opened her purse and took out the picture of Mister Snigiss he’d given her. Once again she examined the crude felt-tip drawing, tracing her finger over the depiction of Mister Snigiss leading her and Jennifer on one of their imaginary adventures. Mister Snigiss was where her family life and work life now converged. Mister Snigiss was where the past met the present. Mister Snigiss wouldn’t bring her father back from the brink. No, her father would die anyway. But she couldn’t let him die without finding out who Mister Snigiss was first. She had to find out the truth about Jennifer before her father was lost to her forever.