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Emilia marched swiftly down the corridor, determined to put as much distance between herself and her father as possible.

She had never actively contemplated murder, but any more exposure to his toxic presence might persuade her to change the habit of a lifetime.

She’d had enough of him, she’d had enough of Winchester prison and now she just wanted to be away.

Retrieving her various personal security items from the front desk, she shoved them deep into her handbag, only latterly becoming aware that the custody sergeant was grinning at her, as she gave him back her pass.

‘Will we be seeing you again?’ he enquired, running an eye up and down her form.

‘Sadly not,’ Emilia replied, ignoring his leering. ‘I’m done here. Others are not so lucky …’

For a moment, a frown creased his features, the prison officer seemingly uncertain as to whether she was referring to the inmates or to him. But then, shrugging off his concerns, he smiled sadly at her.

‘That’s a pity, because your old man has so few visitors.’

Emilia had already turned to go, but now paused, looking back at him. As she did so, her gaze settled on the well-thumbed visitors’ book that sat on the desk before him. It defied belief that the systems in this place were so old fashioned, but wasn’t that the criminal justice system all over?

Thinking on her feet, Emilia frowned, shaking her head as if annoyed with herself.

‘You wouldn’t believe it, but I’ve left my reading glasses in the visitors’ centre. My dad wanted me to read some legal docs to him and I must have put them down.’

Her companion was already crossing his beefy arms, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

‘You couldn’t be a love and send someone to get them, could you? I literally can’t function without them …’

She offered up her best impression of a ‘pretty please’ smile. It probably looked forced, but it seemed to do the trick.

‘Well, seeing as you asked so nicely …’

Smiling, he bustled off into the back room.

Emilia didn’t hesitate. As soon as his back was turned, she started running her finger down the line of inmates’ names.

She swiftly found her own visit today, then pressed on.

Ernesto seemed to have had no other visitors, so she kept going, flicking through the pages, running fast down the long list of names.

She found herself again, two days ago now, but still no sign of any other names.

It was possible of course that the threats and ultimatums had been delivered to her father via other inmates, but the duty officer had clearly suggested that he had had at least one other visitor in recent weeks.

Perhaps one of the thugs who stole the gold from her?

In the background, she could hear the duty officer’s voice, chortling at something he’d said, probably some sexist joke about her forgetfulness, but she kept her eyes glued to the page, scrolling down, down, down.

And now she paused, suddenly breathless and excited.

A week ago, her father had had a visitor.

A man called Tommy Barnes. The timing would fit for sure.

Was it possible that this visit was the prompt for her dad to contact her?

Heavy footsteps made Emilia look up. Her saviour was on his way back, presumably excited to deliver the news that no glasses had been discovered.

She refused to give him the satisfaction, however, turning on her heel and hurrying towards the exit.

She had come here expecting nothing but rage, anguish and recrimination.

But she was leaving with a name.