‘Pass me the mint sauce?’

‘It’s beef, not lamb.’

‘I know but I like mint sauce on any roast. Gives it a kick.’

He took the glass jar from the cupboard and passed it to her. ‘Glass of wine?’

‘Maybe later, thanks. I think I’ll fall asleep halfway through my tea if I do. I’m so tired. I must have been dreaming last night but I can’t remember what about. Was I tossing and turning much?’

‘Only the usual. Your night-time exercise keeps me warm. You get so hot I can feel the heat radiating off you in waves. It saves us a fortune not having to put the central heating on.’

They both began to eat, Annie trying her best not to think about Martha Beckett and Will trying to block out the image of Beth O’Connor’s severed head all alone in the fridge bank at the morgue.

***

Megan was tired and grumpy and she felt bad for upsetting Henry. She knew that she had, but she’d been on her feet all day in that coffee shop while he’d been able to potter around here doing nothing more strenuous than driving to pick her up. She wasn’t really mad at him, more irritated by their financial situation. She knew that he couldn’t go and get a job and had to keep a very low profile, but she would like it if she didn’t have to go to work as well.

Her eyes became heavier and she turned on her side with her back to her window, the smallest window on earth. Even the inmates at the hospital had bigger rooms, with large windows that looked out onto the landscaped gardens – even if they did have metal bars across them. They even had an en suite, which was a laugh considering what sick bastards most of them were. Most average hard-working families didn’t have such luxuries.

She didn’t regret her decision to help Henry escape but she was bored of it now, not totally bored but she was an all-or-nothing kind of girl. She wanted to kill again and read all about it in the papers, hear people discussing it in the café. Listen to them speculate about what monster could commit such crimes when the monster had just served them with a vanilla latte and a slice of lemon cake.

She was almost asleep when a loud scratching noise from under the caravan made her eyes open wide. She listened again but it was silent. She shuddered at the thought of some animal underneath there trying to get in; she hated rats or badgers, anything that wasn’t cute and fluffy. It happened again and this time she threw her covers back and sat up. It sounded as if it was directly below her bed. She lifted her duvet up to check there wasn’t a big rat under there and sighed with relief that there wasn’t. Pressing her face against the window she peered into the blackness and waited for her eyes to adjust. She couldn’t see anything. A loud thud against the metal side of the caravan shook the glass and she pulled her face back, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. Megan backed away from the window and got back on her bed. Maybe it was some stupid bird or a deer. In fact, it probably was. She turned on her side, facing away from the window, and closed her eyes.

There was no more noise and she began to drift off once more. She was almost asleep when she heard a sharp scratching noise. This time it was against the glass of her window. She turned over and screamed. There was a face peering through the glass. At least, it looked like a face, but then again it didn’t. It had the greyest skin and the sharpest teeth that were huge. It must have been tall because she couldn’t reach her window and neither could Henry – the caravan was on bricks to keep it off the ground. The thing lifted its arms to bang on the glass and Megan screamed even louder because at the end of them were razor-sharp, black claws. Henry came barging through the door in only his boxers to see what was wrong. She ran to him and threw her arms around him.

‘Jesus Christ, Megan, I thought you were being murdered.’

The irony didn’t go amiss on Henry and if it hadn’t been for the fact that she was so white and shaking he would have started to laugh.

‘There’s someone outside…not someone, something.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like a man that looks like a scary dead man but he doesn’t have any hands and he was scratching at the window.’

‘A man that didn’t look like a man with no hands was scratching on the glass? How the fuck did he manage that with no hands? You must have been dreaming.’

‘I wasn’t. It’s outside. First of all it was scratching under the caravan and then it was banging against the side. Did you not hear it?’

‘No, I was asleep. All I heard was you.’

‘I looked out but couldn’t see anything so I got back in bed and it began to scratch at the window with these horrible, sharp, black claws.’

Henry scratched at his head. She was out of her tiny mind. He didn’t think she’d been drinking. He’d never seen her take drugs. Maybe the stress was all getting too much for her and she was losing it.

‘Look, we are in a caravan park in England and as far as I know there are no men with claws for hands that live around here.’ He squeezed her tight and stroked her head.

‘You’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. We’ve done some things that would freak out most normal people and you haven’t had time to adjust. It’s probably a combination of everything and the fact that you’re tired. I swear you must have been dozing off and dreamt it. Sometimes dreams can be so realistic you don’t know that it was a dream.’

‘Will you go and check outside, please? Make sure the door is locked when you come back in, but I don’t want to stay in here on my own.’

He nodded. Barefoot and in only his underwear he went to the caravan door. It was completely dark now. He could hear the water from the lake lapping at the edge of the shore and from somewhere in the distance laughter echoed through the trees. He stood on the top step and looked around. He couldn’t see anything. He didn’t actually believe that he would. The air was a lot cooler tonight than it had been the last few days and he shivered. He stepped back inside and locked the door behind him. Megan was waiting in the kitchen clutching a frying pan in her hands. If she hadn’t looked so scared and vulnerable he would have laughed, but he didn’t.

‘There’s nothing. Honestly, you dreamt it.’

She breathed out and put the pan on the worktop, nodding her head.

‘Come on, why don’t you sleep with me tonight? We can keep each other warm and I’ll protect you.’

She followed him into the bedroom and he wondered if pretty little Megan was not as tough as she’d made out. She insisted on sleeping next to the wall, as far away from his window as possible. and she told him to draw the curtains, so nothing could look in. Henry did as she asked then climbed under the covers next to her. She was so cold she was shaking. He wrapped his arms around her and began to tell her about his plans for tomorrow.

Chapter Nine

Annie parked outside the police station and wondered who the battered, rusty Ford Transit van belonged to. Her three days off had gone so fast she couldn’t believe she was back on shift once more. She walked into the station and could hear raised voices in the front office. Heading that way to see what was going on she was surprised to see two men arguing with Cathy.

‘Look, gents, I’ve told you we are doing everything we can. I have officers and staff out now door knocking in the area you last saw him. Are you sure he hasn’t just buggered off somewhere else?’

The older of the two placed a hand on the other’s arm, trying to placate him.

‘Look, if we thought he’d pissed off back home or on to somewhere else do you think we’d be here bothering you? I’d rather cut my own throat than ask you lot for help. It’s a last resort that we’re here darkening your doorstep. We’ve checked with family, friends and anyone else we can think of. He hasn’t been seen since Thursday afternoon when we dropped him off near the caravan park and no one has heard from him. His phone was going to voicemail but now it’s dead. So you tell me, where the bloody hell is he?’