She glanced away from Riley. “Do I have to?”

  “Please,” Hassan said. And although Riley could understand Hassan’s delight at “getting one” over on him, he couldn’t quite believe the look in his eyes. The slight smile on his face.

  This was murder. Tamara’s murder.

  And Hassan was revelling in it.

  Holly Parsons took in a deep, shaky breath. She twiddled her fingers together. “It was late. One a.m., maybe later.”

  “And you were out of bed at that time?”

  Holly nodded. “My cat, Precious. She was making a racket about something or other. Anyway, I got up to see what she was moaning about. Turns out the flap on her cat door’s broken. So I tweak it a little, make it so she can get out. But Precious doesn’t want to get out. She’s still meowing when I fix the door. Sitting at the kitchen window.”

  “And that’s when you saw—”

  “Riley. Yes.”

  She said his name quickly and quietly, like he wasn’t, I dunno, across the fucking table from him.

  “And what was Mr Jameson doing?” Hassan asked.

  A pause.

  “It’s okay, Holly. You take your time.”

  Holly squeezed her fingers together. She didn’t dare look at Riley again. Not once. “Well the first thing I noticed when I looked out of the window is this… this weird redness to the sky.”

  “The blood moon,” Riley muttered.

  “I see this weird redness,” Holly continued, disregarding Riley’s words. “And I’m curious about it. Thought about going outside. Taking a look. Then I see a… I see his silhouette standing right over by Tamara and James’ bedroom window.”

  Riley shook his head. Didn’t say anything, just shook his head.

  “And you’re absolutely certain?” Hassan asked.

  “Certain of what?”

  “You’re absolutely certain this silhouette belonged to Mr Jameson?”

  Holly nodded. “Oh yeah. Not right then, but quite positive. He looked me right in the eye.”

  Riley kept on shaking his head. He didn’t know what to say. He knew the story was bullshit. It had to be bullshit.

  But a part of him wondered.

  He had blacked out. He had skipped forward in time.

  Maybe he’d gone to Tamara and James’ during the blackout…

  But no. No, he couldn’t have.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  “Did you say anything? To attract Mr Jameson’s attention?”

  “Can you drop the Mr Jameson crap?” Riley asked. “Please?”

  Hassan didn’t even look Riley in the eye.

  Holly cleared her throat. “I… I waited a few minutes. Maybe longer. Watched him for a while. Then it started to get a bit creepy, y’know? So I… I went to my knife cupboard. Got hold of it, just in case. Then I tapped on the window. Shouted out his name. Just to get his attention, you know?”

  “And did you?”

  Holly looked right at Riley. She looked into his eyes like they had some kind of shared secret. A secret that Riley wasn’t sure of. A secret he didn’t understand.

  “He didn’t turn at first. But… but when he did, he looked right through the window. Right at me.”

  “And then?”

  “And then he just walked off. Wasn’t long after I heard the screams. Then… Oh, that poor woman. That poor woman.”

  Silence filled the interview room. Riley didn’t look at anyone. Just stared at the table. He couldn’t dispute Holly’s story. He couldn’t dispute it because he knew something wasn’t right. He didn’t want to believe it, but he was starting to question his own sanity.

  He was starting to wonder…

  “Riley wasn’t the only one I saw, though.”

  Holly’s words made Riley raise his head. He and Hassan exchanged a glance. She hadn’t mentioned a thing about anyone else before now.

  “What d’you mean?” Riley asked.

  He backed off when he realised he was taking Hassan’s role as detective.

  Holly stared at the table once more. Rubbed her hands together. “Well… after the ball. The night Billy Warren… you know. I was worried. Scared. And I know it’s stupid but I like the outdoors when I’m scared. Not too far away. Just my garden. ’Cause I figure the home’s not as safe as people say it is, y’know? Everyone looks in the home in the middle of the night. Nobody looks in the garden, or in the yard. You know?”

  Hassan nodded. Riley figured it was more out of politeness than anything.

  “Anyway. That night. After the ball. I saw someone walking over to the wall.”

  “Walking over to the wall?”

  “South side. Just… just kind of stood there. Staring up into this—this red moon again.”

  “And you’re sure it wasn’t Mr Jameson?”

  Holly looked at Riley for a few seconds. Squinted. Then she let go of a deep breath. Shook her head. “No, I’m quite sure it wasn’t Riley. They acted like him. Like they wasn’t… like they wasn’t all there. But definitely not him.”

  Riley’s heart pounded. Someone out there staring at the wall, acting like they “weren’t there.”

  Another sign of the weirdness occurring at the MLZ.

  A chance of freedom.

  A chance of—

  “We’ll look into it, Holly,” Hassan said. He stood up. Held out a hand. “You can leave now.”

  Holly glanced around the interview room. “You absolutely sure you—”

  “We’ve bothered you enough as it is. Now you go home and be safe. Thank you.”

  There was silence as Holly left the interview room. She looked back at Riley, just once. And Riley thought he saw a look of pity in her eyes. Like she knew something else was going on here too.

  Just a pity Hassan didn’t quite have the same level of sympathy.

  “What were you doing by the wall?”

  Riley frowned. “You heard Holly. It wasn’t me.”

  “Holly’s a confused, scared woman.”

  “Oh, bullshit.”

  “It can’t have been easy for her, sitting opposite you here. I don’t know what you might’ve said to her. What other sick plans you’ve got in place.”

  Riley shook his head. Couldn’t help but smile. “Really, Hassan? You really think I’m capable of all this mess?”

  “You might’ve had a shave, Riley. You might’ve ditched your booze. But I know exactly what you’re capable of.”

  Riley saw the look in Hassan’s eyes and he wondered. Wondered what Jordanna had told him. About the past. About the things he’d done. The things he’d been forced to do as a part of his survival. “Yeah,” Riley said. “Well we’ve all done things we’re not proud of. Right?”

  He knew Hassan would understand him. Mr Fletch was still a sore spot between them.

  And the twitching of his nostrils was enough to assure Riley he’d pissed Hassan off adequately.

  “There’s something wrong going on inside the MLZ,” Riley said.

  “Is this a confession?”

  “You can pretend you don’t see it. I know what that’s like. I’ve led groups. I’ve been in that position. I know how fragile it can feel.”

  “If you’re trying to talk your way out of—”

  “There’s something inside these walls. Something we don’t understand. Something none of us understand. You might hate my guts, but you know it. You know it and you won’t fucking face up to it.”

  “What about the blood in and around your apartment?”

  Riley opened his mouth to respond. Then he stopped. “In and around?”

  “We found traces of blood inside your flat. We also found bloodstains in the corridor. We haven’t been able to verify them completely just yet, but some of our experts are convinced the blood all looks equally fresh. So what about that, Riley? What about the cuts on your hand?”

  Riley’s heart raced. He knew about the blood in the kitchen. But outside his apartment? Fuck. That wasn’t something he was aware of. Wasn’t something he knew anything about.

  “You can make this a lot easier for yourself,” Hassan said. “I mean, the gallows are looking in good shape. And the public are eager for justice. But we can make this much easier for you if you just…”

  The door to the interview room opened. A guy called Thomas staggered in. He reeked of cat piss. He had an even more concerned expression than the usual concerned-as-fuck look.

  “Can’t it wait, Thomas?”

  Thomas swallowed quite visibly—and audibly, too. “I’m—I’m afraid not, boss.”

  Hassan sighed. Looked over at Riley. Riley stared back at him.

  “It’s new evidence,” Thomas stammered.

  Hassan’s eyes lit up. “New evidence? Then why don’t you share it with our guest here?”

  Thomas’ cheeks went pale. “I’m not sure that’s—”

  “No, I think it’s exactly what we need right now. Fitting, and all that. So go on. Tell us what the new evidence is. Tell us where we’re at.”

  Thomas didn’t say a word. Not for a while. He just clutched onto the creaky door. Looked from Hassan to Riley.

  And then he looked down at the floor.

  “We… we found a ring,” Thomas said.

  Hassan looked up at Thomas. So too did Riley. A ring? Riley didn’t have any rings. Didn’t wear jewellery. Never had, and likely never would.

  “A ring?” Hassan asked. “What sort of ring?”

  “A… a silver ring. Hassan, I really think we should talk—”

  “What’s so special about this ring? Is it his? Is it Riley’s?”

  Another pause from Thomas.

  Another glance between Hassan and Riley.

  “I… I don’t quite know how to say this but—”

  “Spitting it out would be a start.”

  “It’s your ring. Well, Tabitha’s ring. The one you remember her by.”

  Thomas lifted out a transparent evidence bag. Inside it, a little silver ring.

  Sitting in a pool of blood.

  Hassan looked down at his hands. “But I…”

  He saw the ring wasn’t on his fingers. And in that instant, a look of horror swept across his face. He seemed to age in the click of a finger.

  “Where… where did you find it?” Hassan asked. He sounded spaced out. Miles away.

  Thomas stared at the floor.

  “Thomas? Where did you—”

  “It was inside Tamara Rutherford’s body, Hassan. Inside her… inside her womb.”

  The interview room went completely silent.

  All Riley could do was stare.

  All Thomas could do was stare.

  All Hassan could do was stare.

  There wasn’t a sound in that room.

  Not until a speck of blood trickled out of Hassan’s nose.

  Landed on the table.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “You sure you’re okay, honey? Not like you to leave your chips.”

  Cal stared at the food in front of him. Chips. Yellow. Peas. Green. Processed chicken. Didn’t even know what fucking colour that piece of crap was.

  It looked so cold.

  It looked so lifeless.

  It looked so unappetising.

  “Cal? Are you even listening to me?”

  Cal lifted his head. Looked across the table. His wife, Sadia—he’d spotted her name in a diary back in the lounge—was going on at him. Nagging him.

  He could understand why she was worried. He could understand why she was concerned about him. About his state of mind. ’Cause he was worried too.

  But her voice.

  It just kept going on.

  Making the hairs on the back of Cal’s neck stand on end.

  “Well if you’re not hungry, you’re not hungry. I guess.”

  Cal didn’t say a word back to her. Her voice rattled in his ears, gave him a headache. The smells of his home didn’t help either. The smells of perfume. Of air fresheners. Smells he knew he’d smelled some time in the past, but smells he couldn’t quite place.

  He knew he’d lived here. He knew this place was his home.

  But it was like visiting a home from childhood.

  It was like he hadn’t been here in decades.

  Sadia stood. Reached over for Cal’s plate. He felt her cool hand on the back of his. It made him flinch.

  She looked at him. Looked at him with a frown. With narrowed eyes. “You… you’re not right, are you?”

  Cal didn’t like that look in his wife’s eyes. Because all of a sudden, it didn’t seem like a look of concern for him. It seemed like a look of general concern. A look of fear.

  Fear for her own safety.

  She took Cal’s plate away. The taste of those dry, crispy chips clung on Cal’s tastebuds, refused to go away.

  “Maybe… maybe after what’s happened, we should think about… about calling someone.”

  Cal didn’t know what Sadia was talking about as she walked away from the dining room table. The curtains were wide open, but it was dark outside. Cal felt exposed sitting here. Like the whole world was looking in, watching him.

  Just like he’d watched…

  Wait. Where had that thought come from?

  Who had he watched?

  The red moon.

  The red moon.

  “What happened?” Cal asked.

  Sadia turned around. Looked at Cal. Water ran into the sink below. “You don’t know?”

  Cal shook his head. But it didn’t really feel like he was shaking his head. Because he had a sense of knowing something. Something he didn’t quite understand yet, not consciously. But something regardless.

  He just wasn’t sure he wanted to face up to whatever that something was.

  “Tamara,” Sadia said, the water still running, filling the sink. “Tamara Rutherford, remember? The girl with the fingers missing. Pregnant one. Some… something got her last night. Something ripped her to shreds.”

  Cal listened to Sadia’s words.

  And as he listened, he felt himself slipping back, as if into a memory.

  Tamara Rutherford.

  The blood moon.

  The sound of her screaming.

  The taste of metal in the air.

  “You were out,” Sadia said, looking away, stopping the tap. “When it happened. You were out.”

  Sadia didn’t accuse Cal of anything. Not outright. But he wasn’t an idiot. He could hear the suggestion in his wife’s voice. “You think I killed her.”

  She turned around. Frowned. “No! Of course not.” She laughed. But it was forced. Unnatural. “Why the hell would you want to kill Tamara Rutherford?”

  She let that question hang.

  On the surface, she might’ve wanted Cal to say “Exactly!” or something like that.

  But he knew there was a deeper meaning to that question too.

  She was waiting for Cal to reveal some kind of truth.

  She suspected him. She fucking suspected him.

  She looked back at the sink. Filled it with soap suds. Put her plate into the water, not rinsing away the crumbs or anything. The water went murky instantly. Steam rose from it.

  Sadia scrubbed away at the plate with a steel scrubber.

  “I’m just worried about you, that’s all. You haven’t done a thing but sleep since you got back from… from wherever it is you’ve been this time. You haven’t touched your food. Has something happened, Cal? Outside the walls? ’Cause you know, you can talk to me. You know you can tell me anything.”

  Sadia looked back and in that split second, Cal saw her beauty. He saw the woman he’d fallen in love with.

  Fighting the taste of blood on his lips, the growing pressure in his skull, Cal forced a smile. “Nothing. I’m just—I’m just tired. I’m sorry.”

  Sadia smiled. Revealed that cute gap between her teeth. Looked back at the pots, at the murky water. “Oh you don’t have to apologise for a thing. I’m just worried. I’m just—”

  The crack was even more deafening than Cal expected.

  One second, the plate from the kitchen work surface was in his hand.

  The next second, he split it across the back of his wife’s head.

  It didn’t smash. Just made a thudding noise.

  She gripped the back of her head. Turned around. Stared at Cal, tears in her eyes. Like a betrayed pet.

  “What—”

  Cal grabbed her.

  Grabbed her by the neck.

  She started to kick out. Started to scream.

  But she stopped when he pushed her head into the water.

  When he submerged it in that murky, suddy bath with the dirty pots.

  With the filthy water.

  He felt her forehead smack against the bottom of the sink. Felt her arms and legs flapping, hitting and kicking out at him. He felt her trying to push back. Heard her muffled cries under the water. Cries of terror. Cries of desperation.

  And he wanted to let go.

  He wanted nothing more than to let go.

  But even more?

  He wanted to stop the pressure inside his head.

  He wanted the blood moon.

  He wanted to be okay again.

  He cried as he held his wife’s head under the water. He cried as her efforts to free herself grew more distorted, more lifeless. He cried because memories started to drift in. Memories of meeting her at high school in the middle of a football match, seeing her watching him, missing a penalty in front of her and feeling an idiot.

  Memories of the first time they made love, right in the middle of the Lake District. Literally. In the middle of a forest.

  Memories of their marriage.

  Memories of their honeymoon in Barbados.

  Sad memories, too. Of the day Sadia was told she couldn’t have kids. Of the day her brother died of colon cancer.

  Sad memories, but sadness that brought them even closer together.

  That bonded them.

  That united them.

  Cal felt the tears pouring down his cheeks as he remembered the love for his wife.

  But when he loosened his hands, it was already too late.

  Sadia was completely still.

  Face down in a dirty bath of partly washed pots.

  Still.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Riley wasn’t sure how long he’d been drifting when he heard the shout.

  He turned to his right. Peered into the darkness outside the holding cell. Hassan and the others had tossed him in here for the night. They claimed it was just a precautionary measure. But Riley knew why it was.