Hannah nodded. “I do. And I’m sorry, but there’s not a chance in hell that I’m going to let you see them.”

“It’s possible that the person who killed Damon made an appointment to see you at some point. He or she might even be a regular client.”

Hannah frowned. “That’s a strange assumption to make, isn’t it? What makes you think that?”

Simon wasn’t prepared to tell her the truth, so he said nothing. He was certain he was right.

“Sorry,” said Hannah. “Confidential. My work is pretty much all I’ve got now, so my professional integrity’s not up for grabs.”

Simon struggled to suppress his mounting frustration. Somewhere in this room was the information he wanted . . . In that filing cabinet, probably. “Got any clients called Nicki?” he asked.

“No.”

Would she use her own name, though? “How about Melissa Redgate?”

Hannah flinched. Her hand flew to her neck and started to make grasping motions, as if she were reaching for a necklace that wasn’t there. “Melissa,” she whispered. “Did she kill Damon? Oh my God. Oh my God!” Her eyes widened. “Those words, ‘He is no less dead’ . . .”

“What? What, Hannah? You’ve thought of something—what is it?”

She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

“Hannah? You’ve got to tell me what you’ve—”

“The filing cabinet.” She leaped to her feet, her face a mess of pink and white blotches. “Third drawer down. I’ve got to . . . I’m sorry, I need some air.”

Simon didn’t follow her. He listened to her footsteps on the stairs. A few seconds later, he heard a door slam. Was he in the building alone? “Filing cabinet, third drawer down,” he repeated to himself.

He is no less dead. Than what? A “less” implies a “than.” Was Simon about to find out the answer, from one of Hannah’s patient’s files?

He opened the drawer and saw that it contained surnames “P to S.” He found the file with the name “Melissa Redgate” on it and pulled it out. Heart racing, he started to flick through it. When he got to the fourth page, he stopped and read more carefully.

He swore under his breath. This was it. Here it was, all neatly written down.

It made sense. Hannah’s shocked reaction, though . . . She hadn’t known, hadn’t made the connection, not until Simon had nudged her into thinking of her patient “Melissa Redgate” as a possible murderer.

Simon read and reread the words. The identity of Damon Blundy’s killer was still a mystery to him, but he was getting closer. An important part of the solution to the overall puzzle had fallen into place. Simon now knew what Hannah knew, and what the woman whose file he was holding in his hands knew. He knew why Damon Blundy had been killed in the way that he had.