He stood up and stalked over to the wardrobe. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the door open. It contained two suits on hangers and a number of shirts. Using the silencer, he pushed the garments aside to see if she was hiding behind them. But she wasn’t.

He glanced around the rest of the room. There wasn’t anywhere else to hide in here. That meant that she had to be in another room.

His bright blue eyes narrowed in a predatory manner and he ran his tongue over his perfect white teeth. Did she seriously think she was smarter than he was? A five-year-old kid? There was no way he was going to let her give him the slip. No way.

He suddenly became aware of Bailey’s phone vibrating in his pocket. He’d switched it to silent mode after taking it from her handbag, figuring that if it did ring, he might not want it to draw attention to him, like right now for example. But out of curiosity, he pulled it from his pocket. He saw Rick’s name flashing up on the small screen. Why was Rick trying to call Bailey when she was already dead? But then he realised that Rick was probably actually trying to call him because, now he thought about it, Rick did know that he’d taken Bailey’s phone. But if so, why? He saw then that he’d missed several calls from Rick already since leaving the restaurant. Rick clearly had something to tell him.

His finger hovered uncertainly over the ‘answer’ button. He was reluctant to answer the phone right now for fear of giving away his position at this crucial moment. But maybe he should answer it. Maybe Rick had something important to say.

Dale was just about to answer the phone when he heard a faint scuffling noise from outside the room.

His head jerked up sharply and he tightened his grip on the gun.

He put the phone back in his pocket. Rick would have to wait for the time being. Dale had business to attend to and the sooner he got it over with, the better.

With the gun pointed in front of him, he stepped back out into the silent hallway and followed in the direction of the noise.

75

Bailey tiptoed up the stairs, her stockinged feet making next to no noise on the carpeted surface. A stair creaked as she stepped on it. She froze, acutely aware that Dale could pop up at any moment and send a bullet smashing through her head. She contemplated going back down to the kitchen and finding a knife or weapon of some sort but immediately nixed the idea – there was no time for that; she had to find Isabel before Dale did.

Her breathing shallow and ragged, she continued upwards. Reaching the top of the stairs, she paused for a moment on the landing, looking to her left, then to her right. No one on the silent landing. Nothing but a table with a lamp, and a mirror on the wall. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She looked a mess.