The Present: The must-read Christmas Crime of the year!

Back at her flat, Anna kicked off her shoes, poured herself a stiff drink, and slumped down in the sofa. Her head was buzzing. She was restless and agitated. Living alone was wretched at times like this, times when you felt the profound need to give voice to your feelings, to communicate, to discuss. She fiddled with her phone, scrolling through names, looking for somebody she knew would be around and willing to talk to her. Family, old friends from university, fellow hacks in the After-Dark offices … one after the other she flicked through their names and numbers, but somehow, for all the affection she felt for these people, it was always Miles Carter she wanted to speak to most when she had something serious on her mind.

She had stayed in contact with Miles, right through the years of his mental breakdown and slow, ongoing recovery. She liked him. He always seemed genuinely delighted if she rang or dropped by, he continued to take a keen interest in her work at After-Dark, and even now, despite the fragile state he was in and the lingering effects of the mysterious trauma he had suffered, he still possessed a silly, schoolboyish sense of humour and an honest warmth that always made her feel safe with him.

She scrolled through to his number and dialled it. And as ever, he was in. He never seemed to go out much these days.

She came straight out with, ‘Miles, I’m angry.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. I apologise unreservedly.’

‘Not with you, you great dope, it’s CID!’

‘And what have they done?’

‘Nothing! That’s why I’m so mad at them! If you’d seen the press conference today you’d understand. Jesus Christ, don’t they understand they’ve got a serial killer on their hands? A young woman’s life is hanging by a thread and all they can do is dick about and screw up their investigation and give stupid press conferences to try and cover their useless arses! It’s obscene! It sickens me, Miles. I’m not standing for it. I’ll find that poor girl myself if that’s what it takes. I’ll find and save her because somebody has to! And then I’ll publicly roast hell out of CID with a whole series of articles! No, better than that, I’ll write a book! I’ll write a bloody great book that’ll sink so-called DI Townsend’s career once and for all! The bastard! The arrogant, useless, amoral bastard!’

There was a pause.

And then Miles said mildly: ‘Well, I’ve got a bit of sticky toffee pudding left over from yesterday so I’m happy as a sand boy.’

Despite herself, Anna grinned. This, of course, was why she had rung him up. She didn’t want to rail against the injustices of the world, not after having been railing against them all day already. She just wanted a friendly voice, a little dose of normality. And Miles could always be relied upon for that.

‘I’m sorry, Miles,’ she said, snuggling down with the phone and her drink. ‘It’s been a hellish day. I just needed to speak to somebody.’

‘I’ve been out of the game for a while, Anna, but I’m still a journalist at heart,’ Miles said. ‘I know exactly how you feel. No need to explain. Rant all you like, get it out of your system, I promise I won’t hang up. I would never hang up. I might sit here watching Come Dine With Me with the sound down while you drone on and on, but rest assured I would never actually hang up. Come to think of it, I might hang up if Come Dine With Me looked like it was getting really good. I mean to say, how could I not?’

‘Miles – thank you for talking your usual crap to me. I needed it. Big time. I feel grounded again. How are you doing over there in Hampstead?’

‘I’m getting through the days, Anna. I’m surviving.’

‘Any chance you’ll be feeling well enough to get back in the saddle some time soon?’

Anna was always asking him this. He was too good a journalist to waste his talents moping about the house all day. After-Dark needed him. It was his home-from-home. He belonged there.

‘I’m … not ready,’ Miles said hesitantly. ‘I’m still … jumpy, you know, after my bad patch.’

His bad patch. That’s what he had come to call it, the awful, unspeakable thing that had happened to him and driven him to total breakdown. His bad patch. It was such a classic bit of Miles understatement, a mask to cover something terrible.

‘I’m just not ready to come back yet,’ he said.

‘But one day, yes?’

‘Maybe. I … Maybe.’

‘Would it help if you opened up to me about what happened to you, Miles?’

‘No,’ Miles said flatly. There was a pause, and then he said: ‘Please don’t push me on this, Anna.’

He sounded so fragile and damaged that Anna just wanted to smother him in a hug. Whatever it was that had happened to him had broken his spirit and traumatised him; the shadow of it still fell across some part of him. But Anna was resolved to be patient with him, to continue encouraging him to move out of that shadow and get back to his old self again. But all in his own time.

The two of them chatted for a while, Anna letting the conversation ramble away into trivia and silliness. Just for that brief time, her mind was relieved of the burden of thinking about Santa and Sharon Steiner and the horrors of Elm Crescent. She focused on nothing but her dear, damaged friend. She wanted to be there in Hampstead with him. She wanted to snuggle down on the sofa with him instead of being here in East London with just her mobile and a stiff drink. She’d even watch Come Dine With Me with him, if that’s what he wanted (and dear God, he watched some crap, that boy).

After twenty minutes of talking rubbish and laughing over stupid things, Miles said: ‘It’s getting late, you’ve clearly had a long day, and I don’t want to keep you up all night talking when you should be getting some rest.’

‘And you get some rest too, Miles. Proper rest. Get yourself well.’

‘I’m … working on it. Do swing by here any time you’re in Hampstead, Anna. I’m usually in and it’s always a joy to see you. I’ll even make sure there’s a whole new sticky toffee pudding here waiting for you. A really big one. From Waitrose and everything.’

‘How could a girl refuse?’ Anna laughed. ‘I’ll definitely see you as soon as I can, Miles. I don’t think I can face this horrible world without regular doses of you. And I’m so excited that you’re starting to feel ready to get back to work. But for the time being, I’ve got a lot on. This investigation I’m working on is important, it needs my full attention.’

‘Of course it does,’ Miles said, speaking with complete empathy. ‘Just be careful, yes?’

‘I’m always careful.’

‘I mean it, Anna.’

‘So do I. Good night, Miles.’

‘Nighty night.’

Anna hesitated before hanging up. She didn’t really want to say goodbye. Miles hesitated too; after a few seconds she heard him say: ‘Sleep tight.’

Another pause, then he said: ‘Don’t let the bed bugs bite.’

A few more seconds passed – and then he put down the phone at his end.

Alone again, Anna tried to hang on to the warm memory of Miles’s voice for as long as possible. But by the time she got into bed, her mood was darkening again. Some part of her felt guilty to have been joking around, talking silly stuff with Miles, while somewhere out there Sharon Steiner was cowering in terror at the hands of her murderous captor, alone and brutalised.

I’ll find her, Anna vowed to herself as she hit the light and settled down. Even if CID can’t get their act together, I can. I’ll find her, wherever she is. I swear it.

Stretched out on the sofa, Anna let the booze work its way into her system and carry her away into a fitful sleep. Nasty, disordered dreams crowded in on her. Ben and Sharon Steiner were there, drenched in blood, being dragged into deep shadow. And Miles drifted in and out too, looking worn down and dishevelled, the blood of the Steiners splashing across him and staining his clothes deep scarlet.

And there, brooding over this whole jumble of horrible images, was a big, dark shape which, despite being faceless and silent, Anna somehow knew represented Detective Inspector Jim Townsend, glaring at her, pouring his silent hatred over her like poisonous fumes, cooking up plans and plots and acts of vengeance against her to teach her – once and for all – the price she could expect to pay for making powerful enemies in high places …

Anna woke suddenly, more anxious and fretful than before. The room was dark and still. It was just gone 1.00 a.m.

Why was her heart beating so rapidly? Why were nerves jangling throughout her body? Had there been a noise? Had something jolted her awake?

Slowly, stiffly, she sat up on the sofa where she had fallen asleep, peering about the room. All was as it should be. There was nothing to be frightened of. The flat was secure, there was nobody else here, she was perfectly safe. There was nothing left for her to do except pad across to the bedroom, throw off her clothes, get under the big, warm duvet and …

Bang!

It was a dull, fist-like noise slamming hard against the front door.

Anna jumped, her heart leaping into her throat.

So that’s what had woken her up! Somebody had banged at the door while she was sleeping. And now they had banged again.

Her fists clenched and drawn tightly against her chest, Anna edged her way into the living room towards the front door, all the while bracing herself for another thud. But there was nothing. Just silence.