Kate rang as Josh’s car sped towards Van Nuys. He started to fill her in on the latest development before she had a chance to speak.

‘We’re on the way now,’ he said.

‘What’s the address?’

‘Kate, I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Look – when Cassie gets out of there she’ll need someone she trusts. Not that she doesn’t trust you, but she’ll feel more comfortable with me than a trauma counsellor or whatever.’

Josh thought about it for a second. ‘Okay. It’s 15104 Raymer Street, Van Nuys.

‘I’m in Beverly Hills. I’ll be there in twenty.’

There was silence on the line.

‘Josh – do you think Cassie’s okay?’

He didn’t say anything. Kate knew from past experience what that meant.

‘If she’s alive, we’ll get her out.’

Kate didn’t like the sound of that. If she’s alive.

‘I promise,’ he said.

43

Cassie felt the sharp edge of the knife play around the tip of her forefinger. She couldn’t bear this long drawn out form of torture any more.

‘Just do it, you fuck,’ she said. ‘Get it over with.’

‘Not so fast,’ he said, tracing a ring of blood around the top of the digit. ‘I’m kinda enjoying myself here.’

‘No shit,’ she said, choking back her sobs.

He moved the knife onto the base of her nail and slowly started to push back the rim of skin into the nail bed. Then he used the blade to trace a pattern into the surface of her nail.

‘You know you shouldn’t bite your nails, don’t you?’ he said. ‘Did your momma never teach you that?’

She couldn’t speak now.

‘You know I never really knew my momma.’ His voice was wistful, faraway. ‘She died when I was just a little boy.’

She felt him readjust the knife in his hand. Then she felt a greater pressure on her skin as he began to push the tip of the blade into the first joint of her forefinger.

‘Perhaps all this would have turned out differently if she had still been around.’ He sighed and then coughed. ‘But there’s no point living in the past, is there. It’s the here and now that counts. Isn’t that right?’

She heard him inhale just before he punctured her skin. The pain took her breath away. She thought she was going to be sick.

‘They say the ends of the fingers are one of the most sensitive parts of the body. Do you think that’s so?’

He pushed harder now. The tip of the knife dug deeper into her skin. Then he started to move it sideways.

‘The first one is bound to be the worst,’ he said, his voice taking on the tone of a concerned doctor. ‘By the time we get to the ninth I don’t think it will be so bad.’

As he started to slice into her skin she passed out. Her head dropped forwards, limp as an old rag doll. The next thing she was conscious of – besides the pain that seemed to consume her – was a noise in another room.

‘What the fuck?’ he said. It was the voice of her torturer. He sounded confused, afraid even.

‘Drop the knife,’ said the other voice. A man’s voice. Authoritative and firm. Trustworthy. It was the police. They had come to rescue her.

‘I’ll blow your fuckin’ head off, you know I will,’ he said. ‘Drop the knife. Now. And hands up against the wall.’

She heard the knife fall onto the floor. Then she felt herself melting, floating away to another, darker place without any pain.

44

Josh stood back as he kicked the flimsy wooden door. A moment later he was inside the house. He took out his gun and moved silently through the living room. Nobody. A half-eaten bucket of takeaway chicken. Some beer bottles. Then he moved to the kitchen. Nothing but dirty dishes and the smell of meat fat that hung in the air. From one of the rooms he could hear the sound of rock music.

He moved towards the noise. He was quiet as he walked. Stealthy. But he was ready to blast someone’s brains out at a moment’s notice. He’d just about had enough of this psycho. Playing his fucking games. Thinking he was so damn clever. Well, the sick fuck wouldn’t feel so clever when he had a gun pointed at his head. He just hoped he was in time.

Quickly he moved towards the bedroom. He kicked the door inwards and, as he entered, adjusted his eyes to the gloom.

‘Police. LAPD!’ he shouted.

He could see two figures on the bed. A man and a woman. Naked. They quickly covered themselves with the bed sheet.

‘What the fuck?’ It was a man’s voice, confused, spaced out.

‘Hands in the air. Now.’

His back up team surrounded the bed, guns aimed at the figure of the man. One of the officers pointed a torch at the bed. A beam of light illuminated the scene. The smell of sex hung in the air.

A couple – wide-eyed like frightened rabbits on a busy highway – stared at the officers with fear and disbelief. He had long straggly, blond hair, a little goatee. She was a brunette, with hooded eyes and red lipstick smeared across her face.

Josh felt sick to his stomach.

‘Fuck,’ he said to himself. He had to think of something. ‘Okay, get some clothes on,’ he said to the man in the bed. ‘We have reason to believe you were driving under the influence of alcohol or drugs.’ He turned to a fellow officer. ‘Search the place. Tell me if this guy’s just a user or a supplier.’

He walked out into the light to see Kate’s car pull up outside. As she got out of her Saab she saw the disappointment in his face. His face was deathly pale and it looked like all the life had been drained from his eyes.

‘Oh my God,’ she said. She feared the worst. ‘Is she? Don’t tell me she’s –‘

‘It’s the wrong fuckin’ house,’ he said.

‘What?’

‘Just some drugged up couple who obviously get off on a bit of light domestic violence.’

‘But –‘

‘But what Kate? I’ve fucked up. Again. That’s what. First with Walsh. And now this. What’s the fucking point?’