He shook his head.

'Immediately afterwards they removed all the lockers in airports and train stations. Then they relaxed a bit and brought them back but most of them are biometric so they work with your fingerprint. The biggest problem is that you can't leave stuff for any length of time. They clear them out after twenty-four hours.'

'I can see how that would give your everyday rip-off artist a problem.'

She ignored the jibe.

'I put the money in a locker at the train station to begin with, but I needed to store it somewhere that would allow me to be away from it for more than twenty-four hours.'

Suddenly Evan realized where this was going, but he didn't want to hear her say it.

'I asked Sarah to keep it for me for a few days.'

Her words hit Evan like a slap around the face. His guts twisted violently. If he hadn't already been sitting on the bed his legs would have crumpled. He felt as if he'd been given something—something that he wanted more than anything else in the world—only to have it snatched away before he could grasp it. If he could believe her—and he knew it was a massive if—he had proof Sarah was alive. And then, a fraction of a nano-second later, came the news that she'd been dragged into Ellie's sordid drug dealer rip-off scam. And he knew as sure as hell that she wasn't about to tell him she picked the money up again two days later, no problem.

'You've gone a funny green color,' she said. There was even a hint of real concern in her voice.

He gave her a what did you expect? look. Like she'd just told him she'd seen Sarah at the mall. No big deal. Not that she'd just given her a few million dollars of stolen drug money to hold onto.

He snorted. 'I feel a lot worse than just turning green.' He stood up. He felt a bit shaky on his legs and he was far too hot. He took off his jacket and threw it on the bed. He crossed the room and stood over her as she sat in the armchair. She shrank backwards into it.

'I didn't have any choice. Honestly . . .' Her voice was whiney now. He wanted to get his hands around her neck and squeeze until the horrible noise stopped. And the breathing too. Seeing her eyeballs pop would be good too.

'Tell me you went back and picked the money up again a few days later, no problem.'

She tried to stand up but he pushed her back down into the chair. She clasped her hands together in her lap. She wouldn't meet his eyes.

'Tell me, Ellie,' he shouted.

He looked down at the top of her head level with his stomach. He didn't even feel like saying: while you're down there. . .

'No,' she said quietly, 'that isn't how it went.'

He spun round and stamped over to the window to stop himself from slapping her.

'What happened?'

'Dixie came after the money.'

'For himself or for the people you ripped off?'

For himself, I think.'

Evan swallowed a lump the size of his fist. He felt sick. He didn't know exactly where this was going, but he knew it wasn't anywhere good. There wasn't going to be a happy ending any time soon.

'Dixie found Sarah,' Ellie said. Her voice wasn't whiney any more, just dead. Resigned. Helpless. Hopeless.

'How?' His voice sounded the same. A please tell me your very worst news voice.

She shook her head, still not looking at him. 'I don't know. Does it matter?'

'Not really—apart from the fact that he manages to do in a couple of days what I couldn't do in five years. But no, it doesn't alter the outcome.'

'He made her tell him where the money was.'

Somehow he managed to not think about the implications of that statement immediately, because what she said didn't make sense.

'What do you mean? You said she had it.'

'She wasn’t happy with it lying around the apartment'—he laughed ironically at that—'so she moved it to a self-storage facility.'

'So why the hell didn't you do that in the first place?'

She shrugged helplessly. 'I don't know. I didn't think about it. Those places are big. Who puts a single bag in one? I was more worried about who might be coming after me.'

He looked at her and felt a rising tide of disgust inside him. He didn't want to hear any more of this. It was only going to get worse. He refused to even think about what the ultimate outcome might be.

'You said he made her tell him where the money was. How?'

She looked at him like he was an idiot. 'How do you think?'

Her strode across the room and stood over her again. He reached down and grabbed hold of her hair at the nape of her neck and pulled her head back until she was staring into his face.

'We don't all live in a world where people routinely torture other people to get what they want. Pardon me if I'm finding it difficult to get my head around it.' He threw her head back against the chair and walked away.

'You want to know what these people are like?' she said. 'Here, look at this.'

She started to unbutton her blouse. Evan stared in astonishment. She got it open all the way down and then took hold of one of her breasts and lifted in up. She got hold of the bottom of the cup of her brassiere and pulled it halfway up over her breast. In the crease of flesh between her breast and ribs he saw a four inch long adhesive bandage taped to her skin. For a split second he wondered if she was going to ask him to rub some ointment in.

'They were going to slice my breast off.' Her voice cracked as she said it.

Now that would be a waste. She had very nice breasts.

'That was after they were going to cut off my nipple'—Evan wondered if she was going to show it to him in case he didn't know what one looked like—'with some gardening secateurs.' She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her other hand.

He shuddered at the thought. Women might have better nipples than men, but men still have them, and he had no problem imagining the horror of having one snipped off.

She pulled her brassiere back into place and buttoned herself up again. He wondered if the demonstration had been strictly necessary. It also made him wonder what had occurred to stop them following through on their threats. They'd released her—there must be conditions attached.

So far he'd managed to hold off thinking about Sarah being tortured. But Ellie's graphic demonstration was too much. He imagined Sarah tied up and helpless, straining against her bonds, screaming and sobbing as some maniac snipped off the end of her nipple. He felt light-headed at the thought of the dark red blood gushing out, her helpless screams music to the ears of her tormentor.

It was suddenly way too hot in the room. His head felt like it was about to explode. His mouth was dry, his throat scratchy. He swallowed the ball bearing caught in his gullet.

'I've got to get a glass of water,' he said.

He took a couple of quick strides across the room to the bathroom and slammed the door after him. He filled the sink with cold water and buried his face in it. If it had been deeper he'd have stuck his whole head under the water. He pulled the plug and watched someone else’s pubic hair swirl round and round until it disappeared down the drain. He poured himself a glass of water and downed it in one swallow, before slumping down on the toilet seat. He rested his head in his hands and forced himself to calm down. When he felt a bit better he poured himself another glass and carried it back into the room.

Chapter 34

'Do you know . . . what happened?' Evan asked, as he came out of the bathroom.

She took a deep breath and nodded, a small smile on her lips. 'She's okay. I've seen her. She's badly shaken up but she's okay.'

Thank God for that. He felt his whole body slump and relax, like a large lump of Jell-O that hadn't quite set. He let out a massive breath and dropped onto the bed. Couldn't she have told him that in the first place, instead of all the warnings about you're not going to like this.