‘Good. Keep it that way. She’s been much better since you came out and said what you said. She’s happier, she’s different. I haven’t seen her like this in nearly thirty years. She’s a completely different woman.’

‘She’s still got you cleaning and fixing things for her, though.’

‘She’s still got me cleaning and fixing things for her, yes. But, trust me, it’s the happiest she’s ever been. And I don’t want anything to change that right now. So… so keep it from your mother, okay? Don’t say anything to her, and neither will I. Our little secret.’

There was nothing little about this. Not when it came to Michał. Not when it involved Nathan Burrows.

‘I knew you were hiding something from us that night,’ Perry continued. The sound of movement and metal clanging into metal returned. ‘I could see it in your face that you still believed it. And I just want you to know that I believe you too. I knew it wasn’t in your nature to let this thing go so easily. You’ve been fighting it for the last thirty years, and I know you’ll keep hunting the bastard down for the next thirty, right to the end. I know you’ll do what’s right for our family, son. I know you’ll find him, because he’s out there somewhere. I can feel it. I know it, you know it. And I know you’ve got it in you to find him. Keep fighting, kiddo.’

A lump swelled in Tomek’s throat. A pat on the back, vindication, a nod well done. The first time his father had told him he was proud, that he believed in him. Thirty years too late, but it was there, nonetheless. And as Tomek pondered it for a moment, he realised what that little speech was: his father, begging for help, begging for Tomek to find Michał’s second killer, because he too had carried the same burden all these years, just in a different way, hidden from the rest of the family. And now he was making it abundantly clear to Tomek what needed to be done, and that he would be by his side every step of the way.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Finding Shawn Wilkins, the man who’d been convicted of stalking Angelica Whitaker, should have been a quick search, a quick look on the register. But it had been anything but. His registered address had been at his parents’ house, but when Oscar and Rachel had turned up to bring him in for questioning, they’d learnt that he’d moved out. The only problem was his parents were talkers, and had kept them both occupied for two hours before eventually giving them the information they needed.

While he was waiting, Chey had spent the last twenty minutes listing all the evidence they had against Wilkins to him. Several counts of standing outside Angelica Whitaker’s house in the middle of the night, sometimes sitting in his car, watching her through the window with the lights on, following her in the middle of the street at night and in broad daylight, turning up at Whitaker’s, the jewellery store unannounced, pretending to buy something (and even doing so on one occasion, then giving it to her as a gift), messaging her repeatedly on social media and via text message, frequently using fake accounts and new mobile numbers to reach out to her, and constantly commenting on every one of her social media posts with the phrases, ‘My gorgeous angel’ and ‘My angel’s got her wings back’, as though they were boyfriend and girlfriend. The only problem was, Tomek wasn’t listening to any of it. His thoughts were hundreds of miles away in Wakefield, loitering outside the prison, looking up at the iron bars outside the grey and murky windows of the building. Then his thoughts cut to the field of the playground where his brother had died – the playground that was still there, except it looked completely different thirty years on. This time he pictured the bench with Michał’s name on it. He hadn’t sat on that bench, let alone seen it, in years. And now there it was, crystal clear in his mind’s eye.

‘Sarge?’

The voice went in one ear and out the other.

‘Sarge, you there?’

Tomek was standing with his back to Chey, staring out of the window that looked over the car park. He was only vaguely aware of the man’s reflection in the glass. But as Chey moved behind him, it wasn’t the reflection that distracted him, it was the car that had just pulled into an empty space near the building’s entrance. Rachel. Parked up at a jaunty angle as she’d swung it into the space. A second later, he watched her get out of the car and move to the back, from where Shawn Wilkins emerged. The man was a small giant from up there at the second-floor window. He was almost twice the size of Rachel, with great, stooping shoulders that never seemed to end, and a gait that made him look like a gentle giant. He waited patiently for Rachel to retrieve something from the back of her car and then followed a few paces behind.

It wasn’t until they were a few metres away from the building that Tomek spotted a figure leap out of a car nearby and sprint across the car park. By the time he noticed what was happening, it was too late, and like a mother deer watching its foal get knocked down by a car in the middle of the street, Tomek felt helpless. The figure, wearing a black hoodie, covered the distance with ease, and a moment later, was on them. He swung a right hook at Shawn Wilkins and connected with him cleanly, sending the small giant to the floor. But that wasn’t enough for the assailant. Pushing Rachel to one side, he grabbed Shawn by the collar and began punching him in the face repeatedly, kicking him in the stomach and legs while the man was incapacitated.

Tomek didn’t need to see anything else. He charged out of the room and headed towards the stairs, leaping down them two at a time, holding onto the wall for support. When he came to the bottom, he tore through a set of double doors and out into the open. By the time he made it outside, the situation had already been contained by a handful of uniformed officers who had been nearby. It had taken three of them to subdue the attacker, with one on the man’s neck, while the other two straddled him and began placing a set of cuffs around his wrists.

‘Get off!’ the attacker screamed.

Meanwhile, Rachel was tending to Shawn Wilkins. The man was sitting on the ground, legs astride, head lowered between his knees as a river of blood streamed from his nose.

First, Tomek checked on Rachel.

‘You all good?’

She looked up at him, flustered. ‘What the fuck was that all about? He came out of nowhere!’

‘Not from up there, he didn’t.’ Tomek pointed to the window. ‘Do you know who it is?’

And then Tomek saw for himself.

The man was dragged to his feet with the help of a fourth uniformed officer. Arms behind his back. Dirt and pieces of gravel attached to his face.

Staring back at him was Johnny Whitaker, Angelica’s brother and staunch defender.

CHAPTER THIRTY

It had taken over an hour to stop the blood from streaming out of Shawn Wilkins’ nose, at least to a point where he didn’t need to replace the tissue that was lodged up his nostrils every two seconds. The medically trained professionals in the building had tended to him, fixed him up, and sent him into the interview room in the same outfit he’d been attacked in, stained and covered in blood. Sadly there were no replacements, and even if there were, Tomek doubted any of them would fit. Joining him in the interview room was Rachel. It was a voluntary interview, so Shawn was allowed to leave at any time, though Tomek suspected the man would want to look at pressing charges against Johnny Whitaker, and Tomek was keen to force the man to stay for as long as was necessary by keeping that part till the end.

‘Shawn Wilkins…’ Tomek began.

‘Yes?’

‘Is that you?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you live at Crescent Drive, yes?’

‘My parents do.’

‘But you don’t?’

‘You know where I live. You picked me up from there.’ Shawn pointed to Rachel, but Tomek ignored it.

‘How long have you lived there?’

Shawn shrugged. ‘Two, maybe three years.’

‘So why haven’t you updated our records?’

‘What records?’

‘The restraining order against you from a Miss Angelica Whitaker.’

Shawn placed his giant hands flat on the table and slowly dragged them back as he reclined in his seat. It was a simple, innocuous move, and yet Tomek sensed an air of threat behind it. The man was giving him Ed Kemper vibes. ‘That what this is about? You’ve brought me in here because my details are out of date?’

It was Rachel’s turn to speak. ‘No, we’ve brought you in because we had some questions about it.’

Shawn’s face contorted into a frown. ‘Surely everything’s on the file? The short of it is that I can’t go within a few metres of her.’

‘How many, precisely?’

‘A hundred.’

‘That’s a lot more than a few metres,’ Tomek said. ‘What did you do to warrant that?’

Tomek knew the answer to the question – Chey’s words were vague and quiet in his mind – but he wanted Shawn to spell it out for them.

‘It’s all there in my file,’ the man replied defiantly.

‘Why don’t you tell us what it says?’

‘I’d rather not go over old ground. It’s difficult.’

‘But not nearly as difficult as you made life for Angelica Whitaker, right?’