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catch this person,” she raised her voice. “What have the Politie been doing?”

Gibson held his hands up in defence. “Donika, I promise we’ll—”

“No, this is serious. You’ve not taken the murders and disappearances seriously because we are working girls. Prostitutes in your eyes, and we—”

“Donika. Listen to me, we’re doing all that we can,” Gibson cut her off.

Donika nodded her head slowly and swiped at her tears. “Please, I don’t feel safe. None of us do. Suzy…she was my best friend.”

“I promise, we’re on the case.” Silence fell between them for several seconds. “We’ll see ourselves out. Give me a call if you remember anything else.”

Donika turned back to the table and picked up Gibson’s card. She ran a finger over the bold letters, then glanced back at him.

“Okay, I will.” Her eyes, still full of tears, conveyed her anguish.

Gibson nodded and turned to leave. “Let’s head back to base,” he called to his men.

They all piled into the hallway and followed behind him toward to front door, leaving Donika alone.

12

Daydreamer

Mr. Fitz

Later that evening…

Mr. Fitz placed the newspaper down on his dinner table. Picking up his napkin, he wiped his lips.

The aroma of roast beef clung to the air of his living room. Still hungry, he helped himself to another slice of the tender meat, then topped up his glass of wine. Tonight’s meal was so much better than eating with Olga.

Yap. Yap. Yap. The woman could talk on and on about absolutely nothing.

The news played out in the background, but his focus was on today’s headline of the De Telegraaf paper.

Knife in hand, he cut a piece of beef, popped it into his mouth, chewed on it, then read the article Madeline had written once more. He was impressed with her journalistic skills, as well as the ability to paint a vivid picture in her appeal for information and witnesses, following the discovery of Suzy Chan’s body.

She went to town on this.

He read over the level of details she had disclosed about Suzy Chan’s and the other girls’ murders and disappearances.

End to end, he folded the paper, careful to not make uneven creases. Once done, he set the paper down. He shovelled the rest of his meat and potatoes into his mouth, chewed, then swallowed. Downing the red wine, he swished the last gulp around in his mouth, patting his belly satisfied.

Rising from the table, he cleared his dishes, then placed them into the kitchen. He retired to the sofa, with his glass and the bottle of wine in hand.

He was fed up with hearing about the ‘danger posed to women around the city,’ so he flicked through the channels. An American comedy grabbed his attention and settled on that.

I hope everything is okay with the leak?

Madeline’s article of clothing came to mind, followed by the sheer happiness he felt at knowing exactly where she worked. He pulled out his phone and sent two text messages. One to Madeline and another to the neighbour below her to make sure there was no need to send out another contractor.

He phone beeped with a response.

—Everything’s fine here.

—Thanks so much, Madeline.

Her response pulled a smile to his lips, and he massaged his thumb over Madeline’s message. Another message hit his phone, but this one wasn’t from her, but from Andre.

—Evening. I haven’t noticed any damage here.

—I guess now it’s all fixed. Thanks, Andre.

Good. All taken care of, his mind wandered. Well, except for the carpet.

Thoughts about the bra he had swiped made him grin.

How will I ever get it back to her? He pondered this question. Can I risk entering her apartment again?

He took a sip of his wine, then thought about it some more.

Nope, too much of a risk. She’ll never notice it’s missing, anyway.

It was nice to have such an intimate part of her, after all, especially girls like her never fall for guys like him.

He grinned at the little secret he had stashed away in his room, and the new knowledge of her profession and line of work, thrilled him.

As a facilities manager he didn’t have access to this information. All he knew about the properties he managed was who lived in which property, but no personal details. That was all dealt with by the agency.

He admired her, just like many women he passed on a day-to-day basis.

If only she’d give me a chance. He clenched his hands into fists.

The squishy carpet came to mind and a grin played across his lips along with a thought that danced in his mind.

Carpet replacement requires entry into her home again. His grin stretched from ear to ear.

13

A New Friend

Madeline Sloane

Three days later…

Madeline walked into the editor in chief’s office and took a seat. “You wanted to speak with me, Fleur?”

“Yes, Madeline.” Fleur pulled her hair back into a sloppy bun, then stuck a pencil through it, holding it in place on the back of her head. “You did an excellent job with the coverage on the Red Light girls. Well done. I wanted to encourage you to follow up on this story.” She placed down the newspaper on her desk.

“Really? You mean it?”

“I do. Keep turning out articles like this, and you’ll land some front pagers. Good work, overall.”

“Oh, thanks. I’m glad you’re happy. I have every intention of seeing what I can find out.”

“The Politie seem to be downplaying the urgency. My guess is it’s because they were working girls. What do you think?”

“Exactly, right? It’s crazy. Regardless of what the ladies did for a living, the killer is still out there.”

“My point exactly,” Fleur responded, then opened up De Telegraaf to the article Madeline wrote.

Fleur tapped the paper with a manicured nail.

“Remember,” Fleur said, “we need to be seen as supporting the police. Don’t trash them, of course, but keep the story fresh in the people’s minds.”

“No problem. Will do.”

“That’s all. I’m here if you need me.”

Madeline got to her feet and turned to leave her boss’ office. On her way out, she

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