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11.10 A.M.

‘What do you mean he said no?’ Kim barked into the phone.

It was ten minutes since she’d gathered all the litter-picking volunteers together and enlisted their help.

Accepting that she had no authority to stop the event going ahead, she had recruited them all to search instead.

As she was unable to tell them what she was looking for, she’d asked them to be on the lookout for a small box, or anything out of the ordinary.

She and Bryant had been about to rejoin the search when Frost’s name had appeared on her phone. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the news she brought was even worse.

‘Did you explain it properly?’ Kim asked, putting her on speaker. It had to be Frost’s fault. No reasonable boss would tell her she couldn’t write the articles.

‘I read him every communication.’

‘And did you tell him that we’re treating it as a credible threat?’ Kim asked.

‘Yeah, and you don’t want me to repeat his thoughts on that. Safe to say he thinks we’ve all got nothing better to do with our time, but with more swear words.’

‘Jesus, Frost, we have to do what he wants until we know what’s at stake.’

‘I know, but he’s my boss. What do you expect me to do?’

Kim bit back her irritation ‘You just gotta?—’

‘Guv,’ Bryant interrupted, tapping her arm and pointing to the bottom of the car park where Fred, the self-appointed hub for all contact, was waving at them wildly.

‘Gotta go,’ she said, ending the call before sprinting down to Fred.

‘Jerry’s just called in a box, under the bridge. I’ll take you to?—’

‘I know where it is,’ Kim said, moving away. She’d walked over it less than half an hour before.

Within minutes, they were at the bridge where Jerry was standing guard as though the box was going to grow legs and run away. She had to respect the litter-pickers for taking the task seriously.

‘Show me,’ she said.

He bent down. ‘I was reaching under here for a Coke can and my grabber hit something metallic. Looks like one of those old petty cash tins. Seems out of place,’ he said excitedly.

Jerry appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. He sure hadn’t thought he’d be instrumental in a police search when he’d turned up this morning to pick up cans, sweet wrappers and goodness knows what else.

Kim kneeled down and took a look. Jerry was right.

‘May I?’ she asked, holding out her hand.

He placed the grabber handle in her palm.

She used the long arm to prise the tin free and then scoop it towards her. She briefly considered calling the forensic techies, but right now she had nothing to tell them.

For all she knew, the only thing in the box could be a big fat ‘Gotcha’ note. If so, she could buy her team a late breakfast, send them home and forget all about it. But her gut said otherwise.

‘Thanks, Jerry – good job,’ she said as Fred finally caught up with them.

‘Guys, just step this way for me,’ Bryant said, corralling them to the side as another couple of litter-pickers appeared.

She saw immediately that there was no key in the lock.

Having moved the people away, Bryant reappeared and handed her a pair of latex gloves.

‘I mean, why would you have a pair of these in every piece of clothing you own?’

He produced another pair with a grin. ‘Even weirder that I’ve got two pairs cos you always forget.’

He wasn’t wrong, she thought as she tentatively lifted the lid of the box.

Inside were three things.

An index card.

A small white envelope.

An old Dictaphone.

‘Card first,’ Bryant suggested.

She picked it up and read the words aloud.

‘“Cubed chieftain slithers around Bonzo. Find my next by three or…”’ Kim paused and shook her head. ‘What the hell?’

Having donned his own gloves, Bryant took the card from her and took out his phone.

She already knew he’d be calling Stacey to pass along what had to be the next clue.

Next, she reached for the envelope that looked like it was from some kind of stationery kit. She turned it around, looking for any hints. The envelope had a bulge but wasn’t heavy.

Kim lifted the flap with no idea what she was going to find inside.

‘Oh, Jesus Christ,’ she said as the nausea rose in her stomach.

Having read out the clue, Bryant ended his call to Stacey and looked over her shoulder.

‘What the…? Oh no,’ he said, clenching his fist as though to protect his own.

Contained in the envelope were a bunch of dirty, bloody fingernails that had obviously been ripped from the nailbed.

Kim looked up at the group of volunteers that were inching closer.

‘Get ’em back, Fred, right back,’ she instructed.

He hesitated before springing into action and shepherding the volunteers away.

Once they were out of sight, she pressed play on the Dictaphone.

Suspecting what she was about to hear didn’t make the sound of the scream any less gut-wrenching.

Neither she nor Bryant spoke as they listened in horror to a total of ten pain-filled shrieks.

The Dictaphone automatically switched off after the tenth scream. Kim could only imagine the agony of having each nail ripped out one by one.

The tape had served to tell them two things. The first was that the Jester had abducted a man and that by now he expected them to know that. Otherwise he wouldn’t have allowed that fact to be revealed.

The second was that this wasn’t a hoax. Any thought of not playing along was banished.

It was now evident to her that they were dealing with one sick individual. Had he inflicted the torture because he enjoyed it and gained some kind of twisted satisfaction from it, or was it to prove to them that this was more than just a game?

She thought about his original threat and his insistence that they follow his clues and play by his rules.

She now believed that if they didn’t, someone was going to die.