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angle, which was weird. Anyone who approached that shelving would have to come round the bike and meet those eyes.
    Whoever had killed Svetlana was a very sick son of a bitch, and he had Julia.
    Then the phone pinged again. In the pitch-dark cellar those three cheery chimes were doleful, a beast howling in the depths of a cave.
    I THINK YOU’RE READY TO MEET ME, DAVE.

5
    I screeched to a halt by the curb outside the Marblestone Diner. I tore out of the car berserk, ready to beat up whoever might be inside. I would beat my daughter’s whereabouts out of him.
    I didn’t make it around the corner before someone grabbed me from behind and rammed me against the wall. The rough, faded concrete felt cold against my cheek. But not as cold as the steel somebody jabbed in the back of my head.
    â€œYou have been invited to a very civilized meeting, doctor,” said a voice with a strong eastern European accent. “Your host begs you to keep your composure.”
    I tried to turn around, but the arm pinning me to the wall was too strong to brook any disagreement.
    â€œWe can stay as long as it takes to cool our temper, doctor.”
    I felt the anger that had bottled up inside me die down, stifled by fear.
    â€œThat’ll do,” I said.
    â€œZen I will let you go. Don’t turn around. Walk inside and behave.”
    The weight on my back was gone and I edged away from the wall. I could sense them, two shadowy figures I had spied out of the corner of my eye when they assaulted me. They didn’t seem to followme to the doorway, but I obeyed them anyway. They had made it clear that this was no time for heroics.
    I didn’t spot him on my way in. The diner is L-shaped and he was sitting at the back table, engrossed in his iPad. But when he looked up and our eyes met, I felt as if the breath had been knocked out of me.
    Ten minutes before I had been staring into Svetlana Nikolić’s lifeless face. But believe me, those cadaver eyes were more alive than the two cold, bright blue stones that stalked me from the back of the joint.
    He got up as I came close and held out his hand. I made no move to shake it, but the stranger deflected the snub by turning his gesture into an elegant flourish, pointing to the bench in front of him.
    â€œPlease take a seat, Dave. I trust you didn’t have too much trouble finding your way.”
    The text had copied some directions off Google Maps, but I didn’t need them. I knew the Marblestone well. It was close to home and I would swing by every morning to grab coffee before I dropped Julia off at school. Juanita, the waitress on the graveyard shift, always served me. She walked across, notepad in hand, surprised to see me there at two a.m.
    â€œHi, Dr. Evans. You up early or working late?”
    I looked at her in amazement. So normal, so indifferent. I didn’t get it. Could she possibly not see something was wrong? No, indeed not. I wanted to make a sign, to appeal for help, but the stranger wouldn’t take his eyes off me.
    I tried to act normal.
    â€œIt’s been a long day, Juanita. I’ll have coffee, if you don’t mind.”
    â€œNo one comes here midweek at this time, especially on a night like this,” she said, pointing behind her with a pen. The place was empty, apart from us. “Anything to eat?”
    I shook my head. Now that she couldn’t help me, I just wanted her to go away as quickly as possible. The man and I weighed each other up in silence.
    He was young, closer to thirty than me. He had blond, curly hair and pale, smooth skin. His features might have been chiseled out of marble, and you could have cracked nuts on his jaw. He was decked out in a gray woolen three-piece suit by Field, no tie. The way it hugged his shoulders, it looked made to measure and must have set him back three or four thousand bucks.
    I can’t say I’m really into clothes—that had been Rachel’s department, and was now