‘Don’t!’ Radley pleaded, as Justin allowed the sharp point of the needle to pierce his flesh. ‘Please. Stop. I’m begging you. You’ll kill me.’

Not yet, you bastard. That would be way too merciful. ‘When you’ve told me what you need to, Radley, then I’ll consider it,’ Justin said tightly. ‘Possibly.’

‘Oh, sweet fucking Jesus.’ Radley squeezed his eyes shut. ‘You really are mad.’

‘As a hatter,’ Justin assured him. ‘The opiates I’ve been taking after someone attempted to have me knifed to death won’t help my state of mind, of course. They tend to affect my concentration, I find. It’s probably best not to struggle while I’m holding a syringe next to your jugular.’

‘I don’t know where she is!’ Radley repeated the same bullshit he’d already spouted. ‘How can I tell you something I don’t know?’

‘Wrong answer, you piece of shit. I’m running out of patience. And you’re about to run out of time.’

‘For God’s sake!’ Radley screamed, as Justin tensed his thumb against the plunger. ‘Wait!’

Breathing in hard, Justin paused. He guessed from the gulp sliding tellingly down Radley’s throat that he was considering his options, imagining his brains spilling out on the concrete below, and realising he hadn’t fucking well got any options.

‘There are some keys,’ he blurted, ‘in my jacket pocket, hanging on the dining chair.’

‘Keys to where?’ Justin tightened his hold around his throat.

Radley gagged hard. ‘Her bedroom,’ he rasped, his hands seeking to release Justin’s hold on him. ‘The door on the right, in the hall. That’s where she is.’

She was in the apartment? Silent? Subdued? Justin could feel sweat tickling his eyelashes, prickling his spine. It took every ounce of his willpower not to plunge the syringe deep into the bastard’s temple.

‘I just wanted to talk to Alicia. I know she loves me. She had my child. She wanted to be with me.’

Justin’s jaw clenched, a new image assaulting him: Alicia, with this thing, who had no respect whatsoever for women. Being touched by him. Raped by him.

‘My child. My wife.’ A small tic tugged at his cheek. His hand shaking badly, he pressed the syringe home.

Calmly, Justin counted, forcing himself to wait the one to five minutes it would take for onset of symptoms. Once, he would have been shocked by the realisation he was an inch away from killing someone. They were fifteen long floors up. His skull would smash like an eggshell. He’d imagined, in his darkest hours, when dreams of his wife in the arms of another man had come to haunt him, how lost love could drive someone to acts of despair or even madness. How cold-blooded murder might have its basis in love, or unrequited love. In being unloved, spurned or wronged.

This man, gagging on his Adam’s apple, a man who’d begged for his life, had wronged him. He’d wronged his family. His children. He had to pay. Left to the law, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. There was no other way.

But what about Alicia? Sophie? Would they ever be able to live with the fact that he was a cold-blooded murderer?

Sucking in a breath, he allowed Radley to slide to the ground and then banged the terrace doors closed and raced for the keys.

Heading for the bedroom, he was in the hall when his gaze snagged on something he recognised. Stunned, Justin walked towards it and picked it up from where it sat on an occasional table against the wall: Luke’s pink elephant soft toy. Two images immediately emblazoned themselves across his mind: Sophie sitting on her bed after they’d lost Luke, the toy clutched tight to her, her eyes those of a frightened child; and Luke chuckling delightedly, his little arms flailing, as his big sister bobbed the toy in front of him.

Bastard! Justin clenched his jaw hard.

His limbs heavy, his heartbeat sluggish, he located the locked bedroom. Faltering for a split second, his hand shaking, he pushed the key into the lock and pressed down the door handle.

Seeing the light was off, he opened the door slowly and stepped tentatively inside. ‘Sophie?’ he said, only half daring to hope she would answer. That she would be capable of answering.

His eyes adjusting to the light, he saw a movement – a shape stirring on the silhouette of the bed.

‘Dad?’ she said weakly.

And Justin’s heart damn near exploded inside him. ‘I’m here, Pumpkin,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’m going to turn on the light.’

Oh Christ, no. Justin felt the walls slam into him as he looked at his baby girl, her long sable hair hanging over the hands she had clamped to her face. She was trembling, shaking all over.

‘He’s here!’ Sophie screamed suddenly, stopping him in his tracks. ‘He’s here!’ She prised her eyes open and then squeezed them tight shut.

‘No, Sophie, he’s not!’ His gut churning, Justin spoke forcefully but calmly. ‘It’s me. Just me, Pumpkin.’

‘I can smell him! Garlic,’ she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘Garlic and lemons.’

‘It’s all right, Sophie. I’ve got you.’ Justin moved fast. With one arm supporting her as he sat beside her, he eased her towards him. ‘I’ve got you,’ he said throatily, pulling her gently into his arms.

‘I tried not to fall asleep. I tried really hard, but… the vitamins… they were floating. He didn’t like it. The study,’ she mumbled, her speech slurred, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. Unfocussed, Justin noted immediately, the pupils constricted.

‘I’ve got you,’ he said again, hot tears of frustration and anger wetting his own cheeks. ‘Breathe for me, Pumpkin,’ he urged her. ‘Big breaths in, long breaths out. Can you do that for me?’

It was the item hanging around her neck that caused his gut to turn over: a yellow gold locket, enhanced with a white gold floral motif.

Justin breathed with his baby girl, tightened his hold around her. It was obvious. Blindingly obvious. He closed his eyes against the image that would be ingrained forever on his brain: SORRY FOR YOUR LOSS, scrawled in red lipstick on the mirror. He’d known it. Deep down in his gut, he’d known it.

‘The study,’ Sophie said again. ‘The photos. We have to get them. You have to see.’

‘Later, Sophie,’ Justin tried to soothe her. He needed to get her to the hospital, flush out whatever drugs she’d ingested. ‘We’ll get them—’

‘No! Now.’ Sophie attempted to pull away from him. ‘You need to see. We need to—’

‘Whoa.’ Justin stopped her as she tried to climb off the bed. ‘Wait,’ he said, standing carefully, easing her back down, making sure she stayed sitting. ‘I’ll get them. Promise me you won’t move.’

Sophie nodded firmly. ‘The door at the end of the hall,’ she said. ‘Desk drawer. Top and second.’

Justin moved fast, cursing as he reached the study door and tried a key that didn’t fit. Finally finding the key that did, he thrust the door open and went to the desk. More fucking keys. Justin searched for the right one. His gut clenched as he glanced at the contents of the envelope he extracted from the top drawer, but he wasn’t surprised. Radley’s reality was skewed. He was a sick individual who hadn’t been about to let the proof that Sophie wasn’t his daughter change his plans. He wasn’t surprised at the contents of the larger envelope he found there either – nauseous, but not surprised. Their family photographs. Stolen. Desecrated.

The photographs in the second did nothing to quell the rage burning like a fire inside him. Radley had watched her, stalked her. The torture he’d put Alicia through fuelling his twisted fantasy, he’d waited like a viper until they’d been weak, and then chosen his moment to strike.

Sophie was right: they needed these. It was all evidence should he be arrested, which Justin had no doubt he would be. Stuffing the photographs furiously into the envelope, he headed swiftly back to Sophie. She wasn’t sitting on the bed. Strong-willed as ever, she was on her feet, weaving as she walked to the door.

Justin caught hold of her, easing her again towards him, holding her steady.

‘You’re my dad. You know you’re my dad, right?’ Sophie looked uncertainly at him.

‘I do.’ Justin nodded firmly. ‘Just so you know though, I didn’t need the piece of paper. Whatever the biology, I’ve loved you from birth, Sophie. And I always will. Nothing can change that.’

Relief flooding her features, Sophie leaned into him. ‘Can we go home now?’ she whispered into his shoulder.

‘We can go home now, baby,’ he promised hoarsely, holding her trembling body a second longer before passing her the envelope and then lifting his beautiful daughter into his arms.