Hollywood Sinners

94



Elisabeth kept running.

She didn’t know where she was running to. She just knew she had to run. If she ran long enough, maybe she’d die. Maybe her body would give up and eventually she would die.

The Strip skewed sickeningly in her vision, a nightmare circus of gaudy lights. Her legs were rubber, her arms flailing out; make-up ran black down her face. Her feet were bare.

‘You OK, miss?’ a passer-by shouted. They didn’t recognise her. She tripped and fell, scooped herself up, kept on going. Behind a trash can she vomited once, efficiently, her eyes stinging. Her body was reeling with terror, revulsion, betrayal. Her mind refused to process it–it was too horrific, too ghastly, too gruesome to contemplate.

There’s something Daddy isn’t telling us …

Fragments of the note came back to her with vile clarity.

My mistake would cost us dearly … the reason why we kept this from you … Bernstein and I decided it would be best …

Elisabeth ran into the road, reeling blind. Car horns blared.

You should know the truth … your real father, I never told him, he never knew.

Something hard knocked her to the ground. Vaguely she was aware of people coming close, their faces startling, grotesque. She closed her eyes. Quiet and darkness. Death was her only salvation.

Your real father, Alberto Bellini …

Elisabeth howled, she screamed, she tore out her heart, but her body didn’t make a sound.





95



Lana checked the time. She was due to meet Cole downstairs in five minutes.

Robert had organised a limousine to collect them from a pick-up point at the rear of the hotel. The driver would take them once round the block before approaching the grand entrance at a scheduled time, specified to the second. As the last to arrive, the reception would be deafening. Fans waited their whole lives to meet Cole Steel, and as his wife, the star of tonight’s show, she could not afford to disappoint. She thought of the cameras, the press lined up in their hordes, the bulbs cracking and flashing, the microphones craning in.

She closed her eyes and thought of Arlene. Would she be watching? Finally Lana had found what she wanted to say and the letter to her foster mom had gone last week. She was trying. Maybe she’d left it too late–but she was trying.

There was one thing she’d omitted: her own involvement in the fire that had killed her brother. She couldn’t even consider telling Arlene until they spoke in person. And even then …

The memory of it sent a shock down her spine. She shuddered.

Forget it. It’s over. Lester’s dead.

A knock at the door startled her. Three short raps. It would be Cole.

‘Just a moment,’ she called, touching a palm to her forehead. It felt sticky and warm. Another series of knocks, faster this time.

‘All right!’ she muttered, exasperated. Why must he always be so impatient?

Lana opened the door without thinking. For a moment she stood there, confused. It wasn’t Cole.

The man in front of her was short and thin, with poor strands of light brown hair escaping out the bottom of his cap. The peak of it obscured his eyes. His mouth was cruel, shut tight, and she could see he was breathing hard out of his nostrils.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked, knowing she had made a serious mistake.

Nothing. The man’s breathing was getting louder by the second. He was making an odd sound out of his throat, like a person trying to contain their excitement.

Something was wrong. In a swift move designed to outwit him, she stepped back and pushed the door.

But he was faster, gripping the frame with one hand and forcing his body inside.

‘That’s not very nice,’ he taunted.

She pushed at him, terror cold in her muscles, freezing them up. He felt like a wall, and strangely, horribly familiar.

When he smiled she knew his teeth from a dream she once had.

Dread threatened to suffocate her.

No. Never. It can’t be.

She backed off, staggering blind. ‘Who are you?’ she whispered hoarsely.

He laughed. The sound was reminiscent, like déjà vu. She knew she should be able to identify it, and yet it seemed to belong to another life, like knowing how it feels to swim even though you’d never learned.

Numb, she staggered towards him.

Get him out. Just get this man out of here.

Without warning he punched her in the face. The pain was exquisite; for a sweet split second it knocked her out cold. She landed hard on her back, the impact slowly bringing her round. Her vision was smudged. Shapes loomed above.

In a movement that lasted for ever, the man lifted an arm and removed his cap.

‘Hello, Laura.’





96



At the Parthenon, Chloe French cleaned her teeth one more time and took a deep breath in, then out. She could do this. There was no other choice.

She studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. To an onlooker she was flawless, but close, much closer, there was an uncertainty in her eyes that gave her away. Fear was a dangerous thing. However hard you pushed it down, it always found a way back.

Turning her head to one side, she attempted a practised smile and almost convinced herself. She was a professional–it was her job to make people believe.

In a white toga-style dress amid the stylised opulence of one of Vegas’s most renowned hotels, she resembled a Greek goddess. Tomorrow morning her image would appear in magazines all across the world. Fashion editors would appraise her gown. Reviewers would dissect her performance. Gossip columnists would speculate on the man she was with.

Fame. Celebrity. Stardom. Chloe had imagined this moment for a long time, and now she had arrived.

It’s one night, she told herself. That’s all. You can do this.

Blood rushed to her head and she struggled to focus, fighting down yet another tide of nausea. She touched the palm of one hand flat against the marble wall and bowed her head.

It was karma. Everybody had to pay for the mistakes they made.

This is what you deserve. You knew it from the start.

‘Just not tonight,’ she begged, her lips cracked and dry. ‘Please, not tonight.’

‘Are you OK?’

Chloe jumped, less at the shock of remembering Nate was out there as at the concern in his voice. But the second time he spoke it was with the familiar bitterness.

‘Limo’s here in five. Let’s move.’

No sympathy there, then. She breathed deeply, smoothed down her dress for a final time and reached for the lock on the door. It was show time.

Nate was standing at the panorama, adjusting his tie. He looked good, like he had the night they’d first met.

When he turned to her, his eyes were cold.

‘Is everything all right now?’ he asked quietly.

‘Everything’s fine,’ she said blankly. ‘I feel better.’

Nate frowned and took a step forward, reaching for her hand. For a crazy moment she thought he might kiss her.

‘Tonight matters,’ he said instead. ‘You understand why.’

She nodded. ‘I’m ready,’ she told him. ‘Let’s do it.’

‘Good. Don’t let me down.’

Unexpectedly her phone shrilled to life. Reaching to retrieve it from her clutch, she noticed a flash of unease pass across his face.

‘Who is it?’ he demanded.

It was a private number.

‘I’ll take it outside.’ Chloe crossed to the sliding doors and stepped out on to the terrace. The fresh air was invigorating and she experienced a rush of hope. It was just one night. How much could go wrong?

She flipped it open. ‘Hello?’

At first, only silence. Then the voice began to speak. It was low and distinctive. She recognised it immediately.

‘I know about you, sweetheart,’ the voice said. ‘Remember? I know everything. Get ready, baby–because now it’s payback time.’

Fighting a wave of panic, Chloe gripped the balcony rail, her knuckles bleeding white in the darkness. Forty storeys below traffic throbbed down the Strip.

‘What do you want, Kate?’ she blurted.

The answer was swift. ‘I want you to know what it feels like.’

‘What?’ she whispered hoarsely.

‘Humiliation.’

‘Listen,’ she pleaded, desperate, ‘I’m sorry. It should never have happened. It was stupid, it meant nothing. I had my own reasons for it and it was a mistake. It’s over now.’

‘Oh, I know it’s over,’ Kate said gleefully. ‘Jimmy told me everything: how he called it off because you were getting too clingy; how you’d started badgering him about your career; but above all, darling, how very easy you were.’

Chloe was shaking.

‘And do you know why he told me, hmm?’ A beat. ‘He told me because I’m his wife.’

Chloe checked behind her. Thank God Nate was here–this woman was a lunatic. Who knew what she was capable of?

‘Kate, you win, OK?’ She closed her eyes, riding another swell of sickness. ‘Tonight’s over for me. I’m … I’m too ill to go.’ She could hardly believe what she was saying.

Kate gave a tinkly laugh. ‘Oh, now, that’s a real shame. I was hoping you’d make it out front, show us all just how poorly you are. That’d be a charming debut, don’t you think?’

The lights below were pounding. She felt delirious. ‘What do you mean?’

Another laugh. ‘It’s quite simple, sweetheart. A woman like me has assets to protect. My husband, my children, my career. It’s little madams like you that get in the way, and you must understand, I can’t have that.’

‘Please—’

‘A woman doesn’t like to find her husband in bed with another woman. Surprised? Yes, I suppose it is rather much for a silly thing like you to get your head around.’

‘It’s not, honest to God—’

‘But you rather enjoy disgracing other people, don’t you?’

Chloe had a feeling she wouldn’t like what was coming next.

‘Oh, yes,’ Kate went on. ‘As I understand it, you’ve got quite a history there.’ A pause. ‘You should ask that charming boyfriend of yours.’

‘What the hell are you talking about?’

But the line was already dead.

Chloe slammed the phone shut, her breath coming in short, strangled gasps. Her head was everywhere. She needed to be sick.

Behind her, Nate slid the door open. His silence told her everything.

She whirled round. ‘What the f*ck have you done to me?’ she raged, throwing herself at him, beating his chest with her fists.

He pulled her off, straightening his jacket. ‘Get a grip, babe.’

‘It’s game over, Nate.’ A hiccup throttled her voice. She gripped the railing, fighting down a surge of nausea. ‘Game. Over.’

Nate folded his arms and smiled, as if surveying an achievement he was especially proud of. ‘It’s been fun, though, hasn’t it?’

She was wild-eyed. ‘You’re evil.’

He smirked. ‘Chill out, babe, it’s only a bit of a laugh. You’ll sleep it off. And honest to God’–he held his hands up–’I didn’t know you’d get this sick.’

‘What the hell have you given me?’ she spat. ‘Tell me right this minute or I will be on the phone to the police faster than—’

Infuriatingly, amazingly, he guffawed. ‘Don’t make a tit out of yourself,’ he advised. He waited a moment before drawing a small white bottle out of the inside pocket of his jacket.

‘Slipped a few in your water, that was all,’ he smirked, waving the bottle of eyedrops in her face. Her gut wrenched. ‘You’ll be right as rain tomorrow. Think of it like … I dunno … a practical joke. You know, ha-ha-ha. Except this time I get the last laugh.’

‘You f*cking freak,’ she said in wonder. ‘You f*cking psychopath. This is all about your ego? You couldn’t handle getting dumped so you hooked up with Kate diLaurentis and hatched some ridiculous f*cking revenge plot?’ Tears choked her. ‘I can’t believe it.’

He leaned back against the wall. ‘You want to know what I can’t believe?’ he asked. ‘It’s the way you walked right back into it. You gave us what we needed, just like that.’ He grinned. ‘See, when I met Kate we realised we had a common cause. You.’

Chloe sank down to the floor.

‘Yup, she knew all about you. How you’d been banging her husband the moment she went away.’ He put his hands in his pockets. ‘She was hurting, poor cow, wanted to make you pay for it. And between you and me, my thinking is it wasn’t just about you–it was about all the others, too. You just turned up at the wrong time.’

A pause. ‘And me?’ he went on, as if she’d asked for more. ‘I wanted you to know what it felt like to be royally dumped on in front of the whole world, to know what it feels like to have another person deliver you that level of public embarrassment. Welcome to our world, Chloe.’

Her stomach cramped. ‘Nate, do you realise what you’ve done, you stupid f*cking idiot? You poisoned me.’

He looked pleased with himself. ‘I wouldn’t bother wasting police time if I were you. You didn’t last time.’

Chloe’s eyes rolled. ‘What did you say?’

‘Come on, babe,’ he crouched down, tilted his head to one side, ‘losing your memory already?’

She shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t have. You wouldn’t have.’

He smiled. ‘It’s no big deal. Spiking you got us together in the first place, didn’t it? We were perfect for each other–I needed you just like you needed me. But I knew your management would never look twice at me without some sort of heroics thrown in. Pretty impressive stuff, huh?’ He stood up, dusting himself off. ‘You never even had a clue.’

Chloe lunged at him, but the drops had affected her depth perception and she went crashing to the floor.

Nate thought a minute. It wouldn’t do to leave her out here to catch pneumonia. Eventually some shred of conscience got the better of him and he bent to help her up, rolling her face round. Her eyes were clumpy with mascara and there was sick round her mouth. Her face was like chamois leather.

‘Shit,’ he muttered, hoping he hadn’t given her too much. ‘Come on, babe.’ He grabbed her wrists and dragged her over the threshold. There was a loud tear as her dress got caught under one heel.

Wow, she was heavy. He slid the door shut and stood with his arms folded.

‘Get up, Chlo,’ he told her.

When she didn’t move, he hauled her on to the bed.

‘Chloe?’ He patted her cheeks a couple of times. ‘Can you hear me?’

Nothing. He shook her. ‘Chloe, answer me.’ Silence.

Oh, Jesus Christ, thought Nate. Jesus f*cking Christ.





97



Lester kicked the door shut behind him. He was trembling, every inch of his body alight again after all these years. He had touched her. He had touched her beautiful, perfect, murderer’s face.

Lana was whimpering. ‘You’re not real,’ she gasped. ‘You’re not real. You can’t be. You’re not real.’

He drew the gun from his pocket and waved it in her face. ‘This real enough for you?’

Lana let out a horrified sob, kicking her legs out, trying to crawl away from him.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he snarled, reaching down and grabbing her arm. He shook her like a doll.

She began to cry so he slapped her. He slapped her again and again. F*cking women, all they did was cry and bitch.

‘Not much of a welcome home for your brother, is it?’ he sneered.

She moaned, thrashing to break free. ‘You’re dead!’ she cried. ‘You’re dead!’

In a rage he spat on her. The white discharge landed on the neck of her gown, clinging there like foam. She let out a sob, a strangled, savage sound.

‘Is that right?’ he taunted, leaning close to her face. She recoiled, refusing to see him. Darting like a snake he went for her, licking her pink cheek, his tongue flat and wet on her skin. She tasted good–exactly like he remembered.

‘That feels very f*cking alive to me.’ He grimaced. ‘Looks like you forgot to finish me off … Lana.’

She shook her head uselessly. ‘It’s not possible. You’re not real. Please—’

‘What the f*ck are you crying at?’ he demanded, shaking her again, with more force this time. ‘Huh? What the f*ck are you crying at?’ Her eyes bugged wild with fear. He could smell the fear on her and it was sweet.

‘You’re dead,’ she said again, quieter this time.

‘Dead?’ he barked, tightening his grip. ‘That’s how you wanted me, isn’t it, you murdering whore? Left me for dead and took everything I had, burned it right to the ground–but you didn’t take me, Laura; you didn’t take me!‘

He leered at her, forcing her to see what he had become. When he smacked her again, it was with the butt of his gun. She was thrown back, her head taking the force of the impact.

Excitement threatened to ruin everything–he had to keep himself in check. Things were moving fast. There was plenty more he wanted to do with her yet.

Weakly she turned to look at him, her face covered in blood. Shit, he’d split her eye.

She seemed to gather strength from somewhere. ‘You’re not him,’ she said coldly. ‘I know you’re not. Tell me who you are.’

‘You really want to know?’ he rasped.

She screamed it this time. ‘Tell me who you are!‘

Suddenly his hand was on her mouth, its sour taste gagging her; the other pressed the gun against her temple.

‘If you make another noise like that I will put a bullet in your brain,’ he told her. ‘I will kill you and I won’t think twice about it. Do you understand?’

Mutely she nodded, the whites of her eyes rolling. He kept the clamp in place, just in case.

‘Now listen carefully,’ he hissed, ‘because I’m going to tell you a story.’ He came closer; she could smell his rotten breath. ‘When I was a boy, both my parents died. I don’t need to tell you what that feels like, do I?’ he jeered. ‘No, didn’t think so.’

The gun was cold against her temple; death was a heartbeat away and for a second she prayed it would come.

‘After that I got sick,’ he went on. ‘I couldn’t live a normal life. But instead of helping me, they sent me to a facility. A place for the mentally disturbed. I got tied down and I couldn’t break free. I went hungry. I got pumped full of drugs. I got put in a room by myself and I didn’t speak to another human being for days. And do you think that helped me?’ His voice soared as he jammed the gun against her. ‘Do you think that helped me, huh, Laura?’

She shook her head, blinking up at him, refusing to believe what her eyes told her to be true.

‘But I pretended it did. Oh, yes, I played by their rules. And when I turned eighteen I got my baby sister to come live with me. I gave her everything …’ His voice broke. ‘Everything I had. And did she thank me?’ He laughed manically. ‘Like hell she did! She was too busy sucking off all the boys at school to care about her own damn brother.’

He tightened his grip round her mouth until his thumb and pinkie were touching her ears. He could feel her teeth and the contours of her skull.

‘And then she got close to one of those filthy boys. Real close. So close, in fact, that when they were done f*cking they tried to kill me. That’s right: on her sixteenth birthday my baby sister tried to kill me.’ He grimaced. ‘And that’s not all. She torched my home. They both did–her and that sonofabitch kid. Tell me, Laura, how is your boyfriend these days?’

She shook her head wildly. It was no good–he was too strong.

‘Except they were too stupid to check I was dead, weren’t they?’ With a sickening switch the safety catch went. ‘This making sense for you yet, you f*cking bitch?

‘I ran for months. I had to find ways to live, ways to survive; I had to’–he shuddered–’do things, things you couldn’t imagine in your film-star f*cking happy-ever-after. You left me a dead man walking. You took my life away.’ Without warning he grabbed one of her breasts, pushing her back to the floor. ‘But now I’m back, little Laura, and I’m taking what’s mine.’

She writhed under him, shoving him off. Prising one of his fingers up, she bit it hard.

Lester drew back. A crimson prick of blood flowered on his skin.

‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ he told her gravely, levelling the gun at her head and taking aim. ‘You really shouldn’t have done that.’

Cole Steel was pissed. Where was Lana, for Christ’s sake? If she dared to make him wait tonight, there’d be hell to pay.

He tapped his foot anxiously on the sidewalk. Cole Steel hanging about in a deserted alley–it beggared belief.

‘I seem to have lost my wife!’ he told the chauffeur. The truth of the statement rang sharp in Cole’s ears. At the driver’s nonplussed expression, he cleared his throat. ‘She’ll be down any second, I’m sure.’

Once again he consulted his watch. OK, so he was a minute ahead of time–but these arrivals were scheduled to the instant, they had to be ready or the whole thing came down. Shit! He should never have left her.

The car was purring patiently, but its driver looked agitated. ‘We gotta get moving,’ the guy said. ‘I’d sooner make up time on the other side.’

‘Of course,’ said Cole. If Lana couldn’t come down herself, he’d just have to go and get her. ‘Stay here.’

‘Where the hell else am I gonna go?’ muttered the driver under his breath.

Cole stormed through the private lobby and summoned the elevator. He could hear guests mingling in the adjacent room, circulating on their way through to the screening.

Come on, come on, come on.

Just as the doors opened, he caught sight of Parker Troy. The kid was slipping through the double doors and straight towards Cole, probably making his way through the back way for a cigarette. Bad decision. Very bad decision.

He stepped out in the boy’s path.

‘Hello, Parker,’ he said, with the Cole Steel smile.

Get up. Get up right now. Get up and fight him.

Lana was cold. The colour of her panic was white. It occurred to her that she was already dead. This was the afterlife and he was a ghost. She had been sent to hell, just as she had always feared. She would live all of eternity with the brother she so despised.

The gun stared her right in the eye. Lester’s finger hovered on the trigger.

What did it matter, if she was dead anyway? What did any of it matter? She closed her eyes and waited. The strength ebbed in thick, spooling waves from her shattered body.

A small voice came to her.

I refuse to die here. I refuse to let my baby die.

She opened her eyes. ‘Listen to me,’ she said. ‘You don’t understand.’

‘I don’t understand?’ Lester waved the gun around. ‘Oh, I understand everything. I understand perfectly!

‘We can still be a family,’ she said, thinking quickly. ‘You and me. Just like when we were young. We can still be,’ she swallowed her revulsion, ‘together.’

He laughed bitterly. ‘Don’t insult me, Laura.’ He grimaced. ‘You think I’m stupid enough to fall into that old trap?’

‘Anything,’ she implored, spreading her hands for mercy. ‘Just don’t kill me, please. I need to live.’

He came closer, the gun inches from her face. ‘Funny how I never got to put that request in myself.’

‘There’s something you should know,’ she said urgently. ‘It’s important—’

‘Shut your f*cking mouth, whore!’ he shouted, the gun shaking. ‘You don’t get to keep shit from me any more, you got that? I know everything about you, just like I said. I’m the one with the facts this time, you got that? Me!

She nodded. ‘OK,’ she said, ‘I got it. Please, Lester, put the gun down.’ A trickle of blood seeped into the corner of her mouth. It tasted of metal and salt. ‘I’ll give you anything you want. You want money? I’ve got plenty of it. Take everything, I don’t care—’

‘Take your clothes off,’ he commanded. ‘Now. And do it slowly.’ Foam spluttered at his mouth.

Lana knew she would not. She could not be that frightened child again.

Suddenly she saw her chance.

His attention wavered for a split second, imagining how he would claim her body. Catching him off guard, she lunged at his knees, bringing him to the floor. The gun spun into the air, knocked into a lamp and landed with a thump beyond both their reaches. He twisted her round, getting her on her back. Grabbing her wrists, he pinned her down. She screamed out and he slapped her hard, once, twice, three times round the face. Greedy hands ran across her chest and down, down to that place she had denied him once, and then he was pushing her legs apart, the terrifying rip of material filling her ears.

Summoning all the strength she had left, she raised her knee and plunged it into his groin. Lester fell backwards, shouting in pain.

She threw herself in the direction of the gun, her fingers outstretched. But he was too quick. Taking care to tread on her hand with his full weight, he bent to retrieve the weapon, handling it tenderly like a pet. She went for his leg and opened her mouth, sinking her teeth into his flesh. He kicked her off, grabbed a handful of her hair and knocked her to the floor.

Get up. Get up. Do something.

She hauled herself to her feet, desperately trying to fill her lungs.

That was when he hit her. A brutal, final blow to the stomach.

Lana bent over, choking on the pain. It was spreading: a terrible, inevitable, unstoppable pain.

And then everything went black.





98



Robert grabbed one of the organisers.

‘No sign of Lana and Cole?’

The man shook his head, but looked unconcerned. ‘Due any minute. Kate diLaurentis is arriving about now.’

Sure enough, a sleek black limousine pulled up and out stepped a show-stopping vision in pale pink Versace. Paparazzi swooped in and the crowd went wild.

‘Kate, this way! Kate! Kate, over here!’

Like a pro Kate turned, her smile on full beam, lapping up the attention. Behind her trailed Jimmy Hart, especially drainpipe-ish in a tuxedo, who allowed his wife to be photographed on her own before joining her for the couples shots. Kate gazed up at him adoringly and they shared a kiss. They made an odd pair, Robert thought. She so concerned with image, he a gauche Englishman who looked slightly uncomfortable about the whole thing.

As Kate and Jimmy made their way down the line, Robert craned his neck for any approaching cars. The anxious feeling he’d had earlier clung on.

He went back inside.

‘Everythin’ OK?’ asked Bernstein, who had been posing for photographs with Jessica.

‘Fine.’ Robert smiled tightly. Maybe it was only that–things seemed to be going swimmingly; he was just waiting for something to go wrong.

Then, beyond Bernstein, Robert spotted Cole Steel in the private lounge. That was weird–surely the guy was meant to be in a car by now?

He pushed open the doors.

‘Cole, hi, forgive the interruption.’ Cole appeared to be deep in conversation with a young actor whose name he couldn’t remember. The boy looked terrified.

‘What is it?’ Cole snapped, whipping round.

‘Is Lana with you?’

Cole shook his head briskly, as if he’d forgotten why he was here or who he was with. It occurred to Robert that he might be losing it.

‘No.’

‘So where is she?’

Cole seemed to snap back to reality. ‘We’d better get moving,’ he said, as though Robert was the one holding things up. ‘Time’s up for’–he eyeballed the actor–’distractions.’

The boy retreated. On the way past he gave Robert a grateful look.

‘Remember what we talked about,’ Cole called after him, his face a mask. ‘I will.’

Robert didn’t like this. Where the hell was Lana? And what was Cole doing threatening people when he was meant to be walking the carpet?

Crossing to the elevator, Robert’s radio went.

A crackle, then one of his hotel staff came on the line. ‘Boss, we need you upstairs.’

Robert turned his body away from Cole. He spoke quietly. ‘Not now, Ricky.’

Another crackle. ‘I’m sorry, boss, it’s urgent. I’m afraid we’ve got a situation.’

Mickey Galetti had been found out back with his wrists bound and his mouth taped up, naked and shivering beneath a heap of stinking trash.

He was in Robert’s office, wrapped in a blanket. A purple swelling bloomed round his left eye and his lip was cracked.

‘It was a man,’ he trembled.

Robert’s expression was dark. ‘Talk to me.’

‘He came from nowhere. I–I was just outside for a smoke, I know I shouldn’t have—’

‘What happened?’

Mickey flinched at the memory. ‘Straight out of the shadows, he … he came at me. Before I could get away—’

‘And then?’

‘He took my clothes. Left me my wallet. He just wanted the uniform.’ A shake of the head. ‘I thought that was it for me. It was over. I thought I was going to die.’

‘Where did he go?’ Robert asked, already running through the procedures in his head. He knew the answer, he was just buying time before the nightmare got realised.

‘I didn’t see him go, boss. But it was clear what he wanted.’ Mickey looked up. ‘He wanted to get inside.’