business card and she grabs at it, tucking it away in an inside coat pocket. Her sweater is a blue fleece, he sees, with insignia from the film Frozen.
‘You take care, Dora.’ He gets to his feet. And don’t hurt anyone, he thinks to himself.
* * *
‘I need some cash,’ the man in his forties says before he’s even taken a seat. ‘I need some money. A loan. I’ll pay it back.’
‘What do you need money for, Michael?’ Joe asks. ‘Take a seat.’
Michael sits on the edge of the chair.
‘Fifty quid will do it. Twenty. Can you lend us twenty?’
‘I can’t lend you money, you know that.’
Michael leans forward, letting Joe see his blackened teeth. ‘I need to go somewhere safe.’
The evening is warm, but Joe feels a cold breeze sweep through the hall. ‘Why do you think here isn’t safe?’ he asks.
‘Well, you know. That Shane fella.’
Joe sits up a little straighter. ‘Who’s Shane?’
‘You know, the fella that’s been knifing homeless people. You probably don’t know about it, what with you being sick and all for weeks. Stabbed young Bella, he did.’
‘Michael, if you know something about what happened to Bella, you really should talk to the police.’
‘I’m not talking to no fucking police. I just want to get out of here.’
‘Ok, talk to me then. Tell me why you’re frightened of Shane.’
Michael glances back, as though someone could be eavesdropping. ‘He’s not right.’
‘In what way.’
‘He watches us. While we’re asleep.’
‘I’m not trying to be clever, but how do you know if you’re asleep?’
‘We’re never really asleep. We can’t afford to be. We, like, doze. I saw him, the other night, down at Silver Street. He was staring down at this geezer like he wanted to – you know – eat him.’
‘What does he look like?
‘It was dark. I wasn’t close.’
‘How old?’
A shrug.
‘White? Black? Asian?’
‘White guy, I think. I don’t know. I didn’t get a good look. Fucking Norah, what is she doing here?’
Joe follows Michael’s gaze. His mother is standing in the doorway.
* * *
‘You’ll never find him.’ Joe catches Delilah by the shoulder. She’d been about to tear out of the hall in hot pursuit of Michael. ‘He’ll be on the other side of the city by now.’
Delilah pushes out a heavy sign of exasperation. ‘What is wrong with these people?’
‘Where do I begin?’ Joe has four more people to see and he’ll be lucky if any of them stay now that his mother has arrived.
‘And he definitely knew this Shane bugger?’
‘White guy, possibly, watches the homeless while they sleep. All I could get out of him.’
Delilah pulls out a chair. ‘You’ve got to help me out, Joe. These people of yours know Shane. If they start co-operating, we can find him before he hurts someone else.’
Joe hears the sound of the main door opening. He looks back into the hall to see the last of his evening’s appointments disappearing and remembers that Bella Barnes may not have been the first person that Shane hurt.
‘Is it possible that Ezzy Sheeran’s disappearance and Bella’s murder are linked?’ he asks.
‘Who put that idea in your head?’ Delilah snaps.
‘Is it?’
Delilah makes an exasperated gesture. ‘We can’t rule it out,’ she says. ‘Two young homeless women in the same city, within two months of each other. We really need to find this Shane.’
‘I’ll do what I can,’ he says. ‘And for what it’s worth, I agree. Shane sounds dangerous.’
* * *
Sometime later, Joe sits, on a wooden bench by the path on Midsummer Common, enjoying the cool of the evening. There is a scent in the air that he thinks might be jasmine, and crickets sing in the grass at his feet. Joe closes his eyes, wonders what Sarah and the kids are doing, and feels a wave of loneliness wash over him.
‘You’re Joe, aren’t you?’ says a voice in his ear.
Joe opens his eyes to see a girl sitting by his side. She is small, maybe in her late teens, and would be very pretty, except that she has too many piercings for his taste, and green hair doesn’t really do it for him.
‘That’s my name,’ he agrees. ‘Who are you?’
‘Erzebet,’ she says. Her voice is low pitched, with an Irish lilt.
He blinks. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘It means devoted to God.’ She smiles at him. It would be a sweet smile, but her teeth are a little crooked, and don’t look entirely clean. ‘I’m not though,’ she says. ‘Devoted to God, that is. People call me Ezzy.’
She moves a little closer to