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Fiona sat with the other visitors, waiting to be called. It was strange to be back at HMP Franklin Grange, the women’s prison in Shropshire where she had spent the final part of her sentence. Weird to be on this side of the heavy doors that separated inmates from those who had come to see them. Not that she’d received any visits the whole time she’d been inside, because Maisie had been her only friend. There was no one else.

Until Lucy, that was. But Lucy was inside too, serving a whole life sentence. On top of that, Fiona wasn’t sure if ‘friendship’ was the right term for what she and Lucy Newton had. It was a connection. A likeness. A recognition that they were both different from other people.

Different. Special. Better .

They were the apex. And they had recognised that in each other as soon as they met.

An officer opened the door and the visitors filed through, Fiona among them. There were a few husbands and boyfriends. Some mums. Girlfriends and sisters. Lots of hugs, which were allowed here, in this open prison.

Fiona and Lucy didn’t hug. In fact, Lucy wore a murderous scowl, and when Fiona sat opposite her, Lucy’s first words were:

‘You took your time.’

Lucy had often been described as Amazonian. Six foot tall, broad shoulders, powerful-looking. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, her face free of make-up and, because she so rarely smiled or showed much in the way of expression, remarkably free of lines. Who needed Botox when you were a psychopath?

‘Hi Lucy. Lovely to see you too.’

‘It’s been nearly two years since you got out.’

‘I know. That’s how long it took for them to give me permission to visit. Apparently it’s unusual for ex-cons to want to go back and see their old cellmates, if you can believe that.’ She chuckled. ‘I only got the letter giving me the go-ahead last week.’ Lucy barely seemed appeased by this. ‘Anyway, I think the time has flown by.’

‘Not for me.’

‘I guess time moves faster on the outside. But you look well. And at least you-know-who isn’t around anymore, annoying you.’

Lucy’s frown lessened a tiny bit at the memory of what they’d done, removing an annoying woman who had seen herself as the prison’s queen bee. On the eve of Fiona’s release, Lucy had decided to ruin the party. She and Fiona had lured her outside that night, to a spot where the women had been working during the day. They’d killed her, Lucy smashing her skull in with a brick, and then framed one of the less intelligent inmates. It had been delicious fun, and more proof, to Fiona, that what Maisie had taught her was true: that it was easier to live the life you wanted if you paired up with someone else, their own twist on the old maxim that ‘the world is built for two’. Built for two to wreak havoc. To prey on the weak. To get the things you wanted.

Lucy looked around, speaking softly so none of the officers could hear her. ‘There were some repercussions. They brought in a new governor, fired a few people, and half the old staff got transferred elsewhere. Security’s been tightened up.’

‘But no one suspects you of anything?’

‘I’m sure some of the other women have a good idea what happened, but they all know what a mistake it would be if they allowed their tongues to wag.’

‘They’d get cut out.’

‘Exactly.’

Even among apex predators there were hierarchies. One polar bear would always be bigger and fiercer than the others, and – among all the women Fiona had met who were like them – Lucy Newton was that bear. After getting out of Franklin Grange, Fiona had read up on Lucy’s history. She and her former husband, Chris, had once lived the life of a pair of spiders, crouched beneath a web into which they would lure and trap flies, getting their kicks from tormenting their prey. At the same time, Lucy was working her way through the elderly residents of the nursing home where she worked, Orchard House, murdering them according to her whims. A dark angel, as the press had called her.

It had been a good life for Lucy and her partner-in-evil, until it all went wrong. Now Chris was dead and Lucy was in prison serving a whole life sentence. Fiona had learned in prison that Lucy had got out on appeal – a technicality – only to wind up back in jail after a revenge scheme that went wrong. Remembering this biographical detail gave Fiona pause. Might her own revenge schemes backfire? But she quickly dismissed her fears. She was cleverer than that.

And besides, the desire for vengeance burned so hot that nothing could divert her from that path. It was a craving that needed to be fed.

‘Let’s not talk about this place,’ Lucy said, leaning forward. ‘It’s boring. Tell me what’s happening out there. You look completely different. I’m not sure about the blonde. It looks better on me.’

‘I think it suits me. Don’t you think I look hot? My new neighbour does.’

Lucy grunted. ‘How’s it all going?’

Fiona smiled. ‘It’s going great. You know I had three names on my list? The first one was dealt with last week.’

Lucy’s eyes glinted. ‘Which one?’

They were talking very quietly now, faces close, their words further cloaked by the babble of conversation around them. ‘The lawyer.’

‘Perfect. How did you do it?’

‘Did I tell you about his peanut allergy?’

Lucy rubbed her hands together. ‘Love it. Rule number one: use their weakness against them – although, don’t you have a nut allergy too?’

‘That’s how I knew about his. When I was arrested, the police offered me lunch and I told them about my allergy, and I guess he wanted me to think we had something in common. Told me he’d almost died when he was kid after eating a tiny morsel of peanut butter. But yes, I had to be ultra-careful baking the cookies. I don’t even like having nuts in my house.’

Lucy’s eyes sparkled ‘Did you watch him die? Tell me.’ She was clearly in need of vicarious thrills.

‘First, I need to tell you about Rose. My neighbour’s twelve-year-old daughter.’ She dropped her voice even further. ‘I’m pretty sure she’s like us, Lucy.’

Lucy’s eyebrows lifted with surprise. ‘How sure?’

Fiona glanced around before she spoke. She was, in a way, reluctant to share this information with Lucy. Rose was a rare, precious discovery. But she couldn’t resist showing off.

‘I’ve been testing her. Playing games, describing hypothetical situations. She reminds me so much of myself at her age. I remember you telling me that your great-aunt recognised it in you, and was able to offer advice and warnings.’

‘She was my mentor.’

‘Yep, and I’m hers – and she’s, well, my little helper. My apprentice. We both get something out of it.’

‘So you’ve told her? Explained everything to her?’

‘No, not yet. I want to see how much she figures out on her own.’

Lucy stroked her chin. ‘Be careful, Fiona. If she freaks out and starts telling tales ...’

‘She won’t.’

‘Children are not reliable. Not fully formed. It sounds to me like you’ll be taking unnecessary risks if you reveal yourself to this girl.’

Fiona was irritated. She wanted Lucy to tell her how clever she was – finding Rose – not to start issuing warnings. Lucy thought she was so superior, but who was the one who was going to die in prison? Fiona found she didn’t want to talk about Rose anymore, except to explain the role she had played so far. Lucy would surely be impressed by that story. Would get the vicarious thrill she sought.

‘Let me tell you about Max.’

She explained how she had set everything up. She had decided a long time ago how she was going to kill him, but she knew that Max carried an EpiPen with him everywhere he went, just as she did. Both times she had seen him leave his house he had been carrying a little backpack. The EpiPen was almost certainly in there, she’d deduced.

To remove the pen from the backpack, she’d known she needed to get into his house, but that he had a burglar alarm. Keys would be extremely helpful too. This was where Rose had proven to be so useful, and the cookie idea had been a stroke of genius, even if Fiona did say so herself. Rose using her initiative and getting hold of the keys before she’d even had to ask had made everything even easier.

Fiona had gone back to Herne Hill, to Max’s street, in the dead of night and used the keys to open his front door, quickly disabling the alarm before it woke him up. Of course, there had been a few moments of tension when she feared he might have heard the front door or detected the shift in atmosphere as she let herself in. But she had seen the empties in the recycling bin outside and knew he enjoyed a drink before bed. He didn’t wake up, and she was easily able to remove his EpiPen.

‘Did anyone see the girl give him the cookies?’ Lucy asked.

‘No. Some people came along when he was dying, but no one saw us before that, I’m quite sure. I really don’t think the police are going to be searching for the source of the cookies. A guy with a nut allergy gets complacent, buys some cookies thinking there are no nuts in them ... I’m certain the coroner will rule it an accident.’

‘Won’t they wonder why his EpiPen wasn’t in his rucksack?’

Fiona shrugged. ‘It’s very common for people with allergies to forget to take their pen with them. You only have to google it to see how often it happens.’

‘How’s the girl?’ Lucy asked. ‘I mean, I assume she doesn’t know you intended to kill him?’

‘No. She thinks it was an accident.’

She was going to tell Lucy her plan for the remaining two people on her list, but visiting time was almost up and Lucy was beginning to look restless and bored. Fiona braced herself, because she knew there was another topic Lucy would want to discuss.

She didn’t disappoint.

‘What have you done for me since you got out? I’ve been waiting all this time for news.’

She was talking about Jamie and Kirsty, Lucy’s nemeses. The flies who had fought back against the spiders. The way Lucy described them, they were a sappy pair of weaklings, but somehow they were responsible for Lucy being in prison. She was obsessed with them, and when Fiona was in prison she had promised Lucy she would target them on Lucy’s behalf – make their lives miserable, maybe even do something to their daughter.

It was easy to make promises inside prison, though. As soon as she’d got out, her enthusiasm for the project had waned. She didn’t know these people. They’d never done anything to her. She had her own revenge scheme to think about. Huge amounts of admin and planning. All the work to get her own life back on track. Change her name, buy a house, do all the things she needed to do to keep her probation officer happy for the first year and a half she was out.

‘I haven’t had time to do anything about them yet.’

‘What?’ Lucy’s eyes flashed with anger.

Fiona didn’t want to enrage Lucy so she said, ‘I went by their place, took a look at them. Saw them go out for a walk with their daughter. They don’t look like they’re going anywhere, so there’s plenty of time. Once I’ve finished with—’

‘No! That could take forever. And what if you get caught when you’re feeding people poisonous cookies or whatever you’re planning next? Then there’ll be nobody to get them back for me.’

‘I’m not going to get caught.’

‘Fiona, I can’t wait. You know how hard it is being stuck in here for the rest of my life, knowing those two are walking around enjoying their lives? I need you to destroy them. The daughter. If she went missing, her body never found ... That would be perfect.’

Fiona sighed, irritated. ‘All right, all right, I’ll think about it. I’ll figure something out.’

‘You do that. Now, tell me your address. I’m going to have someone drop something off.’

‘What?’

‘Something that allows us to communicate.’

Reluctantly, Fiona told her. Then it was time to leave. Everyone was getting up, saying their goodbyes. Fiona stood and Lucy stood too.

‘Make sure you report back to me,’ Lucy said. ‘Oh, and Fiona? This child. The neighbour. Be careful.’