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Makedde Vanderwall could not feel anything.

She could hear noise—voices—but she could not speak. She wanted so badly to get up and get off the road, away from the traffic, but her body was slow to respond. Her eyes flickered open, and she saw the tops of the streetlamps. She was face up, her body straight and arms folded as if she was ready for the luge. Strangely, she did not feel any pain. She could not feel anything except the heat of friction, and her body’s odd, stubborn refusal to get up.

Get up!

Mak sat up and her head swam. How much time had passed? Where was the man who had broken into the house? The man with the knife?

She looked around, vision blurry.

Just get up!

With great effort she rose to her feet and took a step. Her body crumpled beneath her, and she went to her knees.

‘Hey! Don’t move! An ambulance is on its way!’

Mak had no idea where the voice was coming from. She saw that people were around her, people with shocked faces. Everyone was standing back, afraid to touch her. She could see the massive truck she had slid underneath. It sat inert in the roadway, the cab door open and traffic backed up behind it. The driver would have thought he’d killed her.

Get the police
, Mak wanted to say. Her mouth still wouldn’t work.

‘Hey, just relax. Just relax. Take it easy. Don’t move…’

Mak ignored the words and got to her feet again. She swayed but stayed upright, and looked frantically for signs of the black car that had chased her from the house.
Where is he?
She wanted to see more clearly.

She needed to get somewhere safe.

Mak moved herself forwards, the feeling coming back too slowly as adrenaline dissipated a bit. She was okay. She would get through this. She had already been through worse. She was strong. There was no siren yet. Not much time would have passed, then. He could be somewhere nearby. She should hide.

Mak made for the protection of the doorway to a massive bank building, everyone still staring but standing back, afraid to get near. She pushed her back into the corner, looking around for the car.

Oh.

Mak spotted her motorcycle and her heart sank. There was no way she would be riding it out of this mess. It was wrapped around a telephone pole on one side of the far intersection, still running, the engine screeching. Smoke rose up from the exhaust. She must have still been doing at least sixty when she went into the slide and her beloved BMW had continued on its course right into the pole.

Despite the fact that she clearly had more important issues to worry about, she couldn’t help but feel pained at the sight of the mangled machine. She wanted to tell someone to get to the kill switch but it hardly mattered now. Her voice wouldn’t come. The feeling in her body was too distant to be real. But she was okay. She was alive.

Bang.

Her motorbike shut itself off with a thump, going silent.

Stunned, Mak looked at herself and noticed the shredded surface of her clothing, examining her leathers with renewed admiration. Those leathers had saved her skin—literally. There were grey patches of worn suede left at the contact points from her slide, as if someone had gone at the dyed leather with a cheese grater. That could have been her flesh.

Yes!

Makedde could hear sirens. She was not even sure of the direction; the sound came up out of
nowhere and filled her ears with its shrill but welcome cry, and she felt safe again. Her body sank back into the pavement in the doorway, still numb. Mak curled up on the ground.

She closed her eyes.

Detective Jimmy Cassimatis strode down the corridors, his heart in his throat.

Andy is going to shit himself…

When he reached the room, Makedde was sitting up in her hospital bed with a pen and a pad of paper, scribbling something. She looked up. ‘Hey, Jimmy,’ she said casually while he gaped at her. He felt a flood of relief. She looked like she might actually be all right. She was in one piece.

‘
Skata!
Thank Christ!’ he exclaimed. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine, Jimmy. I’m fine,’ she assured him.

Her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot, and there was a light, clammy sweat on her brow, but she appeared to have all her limbs. He’d expected much worse.

‘Did you break anything? Any gravel rash?’

‘No breaks. I don’t feel so hot but…’

Jimmy thought he’d seen everything, but this he couldn’t believe. ‘You slid under an eighteen-wheel Mac truck. Ironic,’ he said. ‘
Mak
goes under a
Mac.
’

‘You have no idea how lucky I am, Jimmy. There was someone at the house. He tried to stab me, and then he chased me down. Those leathers saved me twice tonight,’ Mak said.

‘I’ve seen some of those guys come in here,’ Jimmy warned her. ‘The ambulance looks clean but their insides look like a milkshake.’

Mak raised an eyebrow.

Can’t you ever say the right thing
, he berated himself.

To his relief, she smiled. ‘No milkshakes here. I think…’

‘You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine,’ he tried to reassure her after his gaffe.

Andy is going to completely go out of his head.

She put her pad of paper down. ‘Jimmy, have you seen that video I handed in to Hunt?’

‘What video?’

Her face went even paler. ‘What video! The one of the murdered girl. I gave it to Karen and she passed it on to Hunt.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure,’ she protested. ‘Why would she lie to me?’

No one had told Jimmy about a video.

‘You were with Andy at the autopsy, weren’t you? The Dumpster Girl? Well, I think the video shows her death.’

Ah.

Since Hunt had taken on the case, and Andy had left to pursue his career break, Jimmy had
been feeling out of the loop. It was as if Hunt didn’t even want him around.

‘Jimmy, I don’t think I’m nuts, but I believe this is all related. Someone stole my handbag. Someone went through my employer’s office and now there’s someone at the house,’ Mak told him. ‘It is about this case. I know it. All that can’t be coincidence. Maybe this guy who came after me is the same guy who killed Meaghan?’

From everything Jimmy knew, the case against Tobias Murphy was a strong one. Andy had told him about Mak’s theory, but he was doubtful that her feelings about his innocence were warranted. He didn’t want to encourage her thinking, but perhaps now was not the time to talk about all that, or how everyone knew that she’d been pulled up snooping around some guy’s house in Tamarama.

He held his tongue.

‘They sent a unit over to check for signs of forced entry.’

‘He was wearing gloves,’ she said, her eyes faraway. ‘Damn. They probably won’t get prints.’

‘It’s okay, they’ll get him. Tell me what happened,’ he prompted her.

‘I’ve been writing down a description of the car and the man, and everything else I remember, so that I don’t forget anything. I didn’t get a full licence plate but it was a black sedan with plate FST something.’

‘Okay,’ he said, and jotted the information in his notebook. He was proud of her. Not many would remember important details like that after an accident. She was all right, for a girl.

‘I came home late after dinner with Karen—’

‘Mahoney?’

‘Yeah. And when I arrived at the terrace I just felt that something was wrong,’ she explained. ‘This guy was in the house. He sprang at me. He was huge. He must have been several inches taller than me. Six foot six maybe?’

‘So you saw him?’

‘Oh yeah,’ she said with a flicker in her eye. ‘I saw him, but the bastard had a mask on. I didn’t see his face. I think I gave him a broken nose, though.’

Amazing, she is. Andy doesn’t know what he has in this girl.

‘He came at me with a knife and it nicked my leathers but didn’t penetrate. Like I said, they saved me twice tonight. I took off…I just got right back on my bike and rode off, thinking he would stay in the house and get what he wanted, and would probably be gone by the time the cavalry arrived. But the bastard followed.
He followed.
He not only followed me but he practically tried to run me off the road. I’m sure that was what he was trying to do.’

Jimmy was perplexed. Why would a burglar follow their victim? Why, if everything he wanted to steal was in the house?

‘I was speeding. He was going to bump me off my bike. I don’t remember much else except that a truck came up and I couldn’t stop in time. I braked and started sliding. That was it.’

‘Well, let’s get a doctor in here to see if you are okay.’

‘They are waiting on X-rays, I think.’

She reached a hand out and he approached her, awkwardly. They had never been on the best terms, he knew.

Mak squeezed his hand. She looked at him with bloodshot eyes. ‘Jimmy, I need your help.’

‘Oh my God. I’m so glad she’s okay,’ Detective Karen Mahoney marvelled.

Karen had thought the worst when she was told what had happened. When she’d seen Mak leave for home, she had no idea she’d see her again so soon, and in such terrible circumstances.

‘Yeah, she doesn’t look bad for someone who went under a truck,’ Jimmy quipped with his usual blokey sensitivity.

‘She’ll be feeling it tomorrow, I’m sure.’

They had left Mak to rest for a while, and Karen took the elevator with Jimmy down from Mak’s floor to the hospital cafeteria on the ground floor. It was a sterile and unwelcoming place, most of the tables empty. They got two Styrofoam cups of drip coffee, and she watched in awe as Jimmy drowned his in milk and sugar.

They took a seat in the corner with their backs to the wall.

Jimmy wasn’t his usual affable self. He was probably shaken by what had happened to Mak, too.

‘Tell me about this video,’ he said. ‘No one told me nothin’ ‘bout it.’

Karen was shocked. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah. What is it?’

He really doesn’t know.

Karen explained the video, what was on it, who it appeared to show and how Mak had handed it over. They’d done a CCR check and confirmed that it was from the mobile phone of Amy Camilleri, just as Mak had suspected. That was two days ago, and now the word from Melbourne was that Amy Camilleri was nowhere to be found.

‘She’s missing?’

Karen nodded solemnly.

‘Hunt hasn’t brought Mak in for questioning about it?’

Karen nodded again.

‘
Skata
,’ he swore in his native Greek.

‘Exactly.’

‘Look, I’m no good at this political bullshit. I don’t pay no attention, but I gotta say that since Andy left for the US, things have gone weird, don’t you think?’ he said.

Weird was one way of putting it. ‘How do you mean, exactly?’

‘I say someone’s trying to discredit his girlfriend, you know, with the kinda work she does, the modelling, her history…’

‘What? What do you mean, her
history?
’ Karen asked, offended at the idea.

Did he mean the newspaper article, or was there more?

‘You know…’ Jimmy seemed uncomfortable with what he had to say. ‘Her tendency to always be on the radar of some psycho.’

Karen felt her anger boil. ‘I’m not going to defend my friend when she hasn’t done anything wrong. She handed in that video because it was the right thing to do. Fuck Hunt if he hasn’t seen fit to follow it up properly. I don’t know what his problem is. And it’s not a crime to be a victim of crime. It took a lot of courage for her to get on the stand and convict Ed Brown. Her testimony was half the case.’

Without her, the Stiletto Murderer might never have been brought to trial.

‘I know, I know. Don’t go lookin’ at me,’ Jimmy shrugged. ‘I’m not sayin’ I agree or nothin’. I just gotta tell you some stuff I been hearing. I told ya, since Andy left it ain’t the same in there.’

He looked really uncomfortable—downright sheepish. Karen wondered what the hell was going on.

‘You know she got busted tryin’ to break into the house of some guy named Simon Aston?’

‘What?’ Karen was shocked.

‘I know. Apparently she was trying to break in. They just let her off.’

‘Who let her off?’

‘A couple of connies in the area.’

Oh, really?…

‘The item has been leaked,’ The American said.

Luther gripped the phone and gritted his teeth with displeasure.

This was not the news he wanted. The video his client had asked him to obtain was in the hands of the police. He felt his rage bubbling up—self-directed rage.

He had failed.

‘She made it?’ He had to know.

‘Yes.’

So Makedde Vanderwall survived the motorcycle crash. Dying in a crash would have been perfect for his client, but somehow he felt strangely relieved that she’d survived. Perhaps because that meant he could get up close and personal with her one more time. He had another chance to do it right.

‘We have to be cautious now,’ the American voice said. ‘I’m doing what I can with the police, but the focus has shifted our way.’

Luther nodded. He understood that they were now under suspicion. It had become riskier.

‘She is the girlfriend of a cop, you understand. We need to be very careful.’

Luther listened.

‘Top priority, we need her silenced, but carefully. It can’t look deliberate. This one is tricky. We can’t screw this up.’

‘Okay,’ Luther said.

He would get started right away on a new plan.

Mak found herself drifting in and out of sleep for the next few days. She needed a lot of rest, more than she had expected. The nurses had warned her that this would be the case. She might have all her limbs, but her body had some recovering to do. She dreamed of the horrible, shadowy creature who had begun to haunt her again, except now he was shadowy because he wore a black mask, and the blood that filled everything came from his nose.

On Saturday afternoon the doorbell disturbed her.

Mak rolled over, feeling heavy on the sheets. She was in Andy’s terrace, in their bedroom. A thin trail of her own drool was cool on the pillow. Oddly, she felt as if she’d been tied to a Tilt-A-Whirl for hours, and needed stillness, but she urged herself up. She wiped her mouth, embarrassed, crawled into a robe and went to answer the door.

No more sleeping…there are things to do…things to solve…

The terrace smelled of flowers. The bed was flanked by bouquets of red and white roses, one of which she remembered receiving, and one she didn’t. Andy had called every day to check on her, and every day his roses arrived, she knew that much. She wondered how long he would keep it up. He had not yet mentioned their odd conversation on Monday. There had been a lot of other odd things since then.

Mak was walking, though stiffly. Her body felt heavy, but it was working. She was already at the bottom of the stairs when she remembered she was not alone.

‘How are you feeling?’

It was Constable Sykes.

‘Oh, Anne. Sorry, I forgot you were here for a moment,’ Mak said. ‘I must look like Frankenstein’s bride or something.’

With evidence of the break-in into their home, and the suspicious circumstances, Andy had insisted on installing Sykes at the terrace. Mak had for once not protested about the added security. Not this time.

‘Some more flowers arrived for you.’ Mak saw another of Andy’s red and white bouquets waiting in the hall. ‘I didn’t want to wake you. Oh, and these arrived for you yesterday afternoon.’

‘Yesterday?’ Obviously she had slept and slept. A huge bouquet of flowers sat on the coffee table in the living room. They weren’t roses.

‘I hope you don’t mind, but I put them in water for you. You seemed so tired, I didn’t want to disturb you.’

‘Who are they from? Did they come with a card?’ Makedde asked. She went straight to them and inspected the flowers.

Who?

‘There was a card. It’s just there.’

Mak saw it propped up against some books, still in its sealed envelope. ‘Thanks,’ she said, and pocketed it with a fleeting sensation of guilt, hoping it might be from Bogey.

‘Your girlfriend Loulou is at the door again. You want me to let her in?’

‘She was here before?’ Mak said.

‘An hour ago. You were asleep. Shall I let her in?’

‘I don’t know if I have the energy,’ Mak joked. She tended to want to make light of things when she was in pain. Sykes only smiled.

Sykes opened the door and let Loulou inside. The policewoman looked both ways and then locked the door again. Mak noticed that the curtains were drawn, but it was still a bright afternoon outside.

‘Sweetheart!’ Loulou lunged for a hug and Mak recoiled.

‘Not too rough, please!’ Mak cried.

Loulou had kept her wild black and purple hair, and she wore a crazy striped sailor dress with fishnet stockings and platform boots. She looked
worried. ‘How are you feeling, darling?’ she said, concern pushing out her brightly painted lower lip.

‘I was really lucky. I’ve been so tired, though. I feel like I haven’t been able to lift my head for days, except to eat. It’s Saturday, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, it’s Saturday! Oh gawd, girl, I had to come and see you. I was so worried.’

‘Come in, come in,’ Mak said.

Sykes was in the living room, so Mak took Loulou upstairs for privacy. It was only one flight of stairs but Mak felt her muscles burn on every step. When they reached the bedroom, Loulou marvelled at the bouquets of roses.

‘Andy’s been sending them every day,’ said Mak. ‘There is another one downstairs.’

Loulou gaped. ‘Wow. Big damn roses! That boy must be fretting that he isn’t here.’

I don’t know.

‘I’ll just go freshen up for a sec,’ Mak said, and disappeared into the en-suite bathroom.

Mak brushed her teeth eagerly and splashed water on her face. Her hairline appeared to be a touch greasy, the back of her hair in knots. She looked terrible. Her bright eyes seemed even greener than usual, surrounded by burst capillaries. Her face was pale. With a sense of trepidation, she grasped the left side of her robe and slowly lifted it up. A large, deep bruise coloured her outer thigh and hip with blue and purple. The centre was yellowish. She’d come down hard on her side when she’d slid.

Yick.

Mak felt the card crinkle in her pocket. She let go of the robe and opened the envelope. The card inside said
Thinking of you. Get well soon. Bogey.

Mak closed it again, grinning to herself.
Bogey.
And then she saw the front of the card: it was a picture of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona.

Damn, he’s good.

She’d pocketed it and read it upstairs because she didn’t want Constable Sykes to see who it was from. Anything Sykes knew, Andy would find out. Bogey’s message was certainly brief. He was clearly sensitive to and respectful of Mak’s living arrangements.

When Mak came back out, Loulou was sitting on the bed. She’d opened the curtains and the room was filled with light. It was a huge improvement, so much less dark and depressing. ‘This whole thing has been so wild.’

Mak nodded. ‘You bet it has. When did you get back?’

‘We drove up Thursday, after I heard.’

We.
‘You guys drove? Wow.’

‘Ah, it’s only ten hours. Eight, the way Bogey drives.’

‘Oh…Bogey is here too?’ Mak tried to sound casual. ‘You came with Bogey?’

‘Yeah, he said he had some clients to visit. ECC are thinking about putting some of his stuff in their showroom. He’s making a weekend of it, I think.’

Mak restrained herself from asking more about him, specifically where he was and if he had said anything about her.

‘Mak, sweetheart, I’ve got to tell you,’ Loulou said, breaking Mak’s train of thought. ‘There is this fetish photographer I know, Rico…Actually, he is a friend of Julio’s. Julio is Mistress Scarlet’s slave…um, Brenda’s boy, you know. Has she introduced you?’

‘No,’ Mak said.
No, Brenda has not introduced me to her slave, strange as that may seem.

‘Anyway, Julio’s friend Rico has seen your picture, and he is dying to do a shoot with you. He is a part-time snapper, you know, to pay the bills, and he said something interesting. He’s in town for the social event of the year, apparently: Damien Cavanagh’s thirtieth birthday party.’

Mak was instantly alert.

Of course.

Mak had heard about it, but with everything else going on, she’d forgotten.

‘I hope you don’t mind. I know that Simon Aston guy will be there. I thought I should tell you about it.’

Mak was very interested that the Cavanaghs were putting on a party. Not only was Simon Aston going to be there, but Mak was keen to find out more about Damien Cavanagh, too. Amy, who was now missing, seemed convinced that Damien was the man standing over the girl in the video. Mak had to know.

‘Is it a very big party, do you know?’ she asked.

‘
Is it?
’ Loulou responded with her usual drama. ‘Mak, sweetheart, it’s only the
biggest
party of the year, or maybe even the decade. Are you kidding?’ She seemed not to comprehend her friend’s social ignorance. ‘It’s been the biggest story in the gossip pages for months.

‘It’s going to be huge, darling,’ Loulou said. ‘And it’s tonight.’

Luther Hand sat in a car across the street from the terrace.

He watched Mak and the mohawked girl through the upstairs window. If he had clearance to, he could get a good sniper shot at Mak, and in seconds it would be over. But he couldn’t do that, and nor did he particularly want to.

He had to get her out of the house, and away from that cop.

And when he killed her, he had to make it look like an accident.

There will be no more mistakes.