The picture, crudely drawn in felt-tip pen by the hand of a child, depicted stick-figure renditions of Jennifer and Bailey being led on an adventure by Mister Snigiss. Mister Snigiss was little more than a stick figure himself, with two dots for the eyes and a slash for the mouth and he was wearing what looked like a fedora hat. He was, of course, accompanied by his pet snake, Sid, represented by a wiggly line down by his feet. The names of each of the characters in the picture were denoted beneath them in Jennifer’s spidery handwriting.

Seeing the picture once more sent a tiny shiver down Bailey’s spine as she remembered Jennifer’s oft-quoted phrase whenever Bailey had questioned Mister Snigiss’s existence: You can’t see Mister Snigiss but Mister Snigiss can see you.

Bailey sighed as she studied the piece of paper in her hand. It was thin and fragile with age and had been kept folded so long that it fell open and closed along the folds. It saddened her to know her father placed such import on such a flimsy and tenuous item. She took a deep breath and braced herself, for she knew what was coming next.

‘I want you to continue the search for Jennifer,’ he said. ‘After I’m gone.’

As she looked down at him in pity, she saw the desperation in his eyes, the inescapable knowledge that he was going to die soon and that he would never live to see his mission fulfilled.

‘Take that picture to remember her by. Do it for me, Bailey. For your mother. For both of us. Promise me, Bailey.’ He stared at her, the whites of his eyes tinged yellow because of the problems with his liver due to the cancer. There was a pleading tone in his voice and Bailey just didn’t have the heart to argue with him. Not this time.

In light of his condition, the search for Jennifer seemed more fruitless than ever right now, but she knew how important it was to him and how happy it would make him if she just, for once, acquiesced to his wishes.

She carefully folded the piece of paper and put it in her purse.

‘Sure, Dad,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll carry on the search for Jennifer. I promise.’

‘You mean it?’ he whispered. ‘You really mean it?’

She knew deep down it was a pointless waste of time. But as long as he believed she would try, that was all that mattered.

‘I promise I’ll keep looking for Jennifer,’ she said.

And she kissed him on the forehead and stood up and left.

19

It was mid-afternoon by the time Bailey got back to Stratford. Emerging from the lift, still deep in thought about her father, she walked along the corridor to the front door of her apartment. She was about to put her key in the lock when her hackles suddenly went up. It was a kind of sixth sense she’d developed over her years working as an undercover police officer, to be able to smell impending danger. And right now something wasn’t right.