TWENTY-FIVE
After a night in front of the television, with Samantha’s mother ordering them the promised pizza and tucking the girls up in the spare room, Steve went to bed himself and tried to sleep. He couldn’t; his mind filled with Melanie’s voice, her words, the memories.
They’d left the pub separately after Melanie gave him the address. Almost an hour later, he ventured out into the evening and caught a taxi. He spent most of the short journey peering out of the rear windscreen, checking if Sunglasses was close. By the time he reached his destination, he was certain nobody knew where he was.
He pressed the doorbell and waited. After a long pause, Melanie tugged the door open, stepped aside and let him into the narrow hallway. “We’re on the second floor,” she said and led him up the
