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you ? No. How old are they? Twenty-six and twenty-four. Are they
married? No, they still live at home. Do you love your father? Yes. Does he love you? Yes.’
    Protheroe’s laugh, a great booming sound that would bring reluctant smiles whenever she heard it, bounced around the room. ‘My God,’ he said, ‘what do you do
for an encore? Bite psychiatrists’ heads off? I came to find out if you were comfortable, Jinx. As far as possible, I would like your stay here to be a happy one.’
    She lit another cigarette. He knew nothing . ‘I’m sure it will be. Adam wouldn’t pay four hundred pounds a day unless he’d checked you out very
thoroughly.’
    ‘You’re the one who’ll be calling the shots, not your father.’
    She flicked him a sideways glance. ‘I wouldn’t count on that if I were you,’ she said quietly. ‘Adam hasn’t made his millions by sitting idly by while
other people express themselves. He’s a very manipulative man.’
    Protheroe shrugged. ‘He certainly seems to have your best interests at heart.’
    She blew a smoke ring into the air. ‘Show me his heart, Dr Protheroe, and I might believe you.’

 

    Chapter Four
    Wednesday, 22 June, 53 Lansing Road, Salisbury – 8.05 p.m.
    THE YOUNG MAN was in no hurry to get up. He lay on the bed, his limbs sprawled in satiated contentment upon the rumpled bedclothes, watching the woman button her
blouse in front of the mirror. Her reflected eyes stared warily back at him. Despite his airs and graces, and his liberal use of ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, she knew exactly
what she was dealing with here, and it terrified her. She’d seen every type there was to see – or thought she had – but this one was in a class of his own. This one was mad.
    ‘You’ll have to go now,’ she said, trying to hide her nervousness. ‘I’ve another customer due in a minute.’
    ‘So? Tell him to go away. I’ll pay you double.’
    ‘I can’t do that, love. He’s a regular.’
    ‘You’re lying,’ he said lazily.
    ‘No, love, honestly.’ She forced a smile to her sore lips. ‘Look, I’ve really enjoyed this. It’s years since I’ve come with a client. You
wouldn’t believe that, would you? A pro like me and it takes a man like you to give her something to remember.’ She offered her raddled face to the mirror and applied eyeliner to her
lids, watching him carefully while she did it. ‘But it’s a tough old world and I need my income just like any other girl. If I tell him to bugger off, he won’t come again’
– she gave a wretched giggle – ‘in every sense of the word. Know what I mean? So do us a favour, love, and leave me to my regular. He’s not a patch on you, and that’s
God’s honest truth, but he pays me weekly and he pays me handsome. OK?’
    ‘Did I really make you come?’
    ‘Sure you did, love.’
    ‘You fat slag,’ he said, surging off the bed with terrifying speed and hooking his arm about her neck. ‘It’d take a bloody bulldozer to make an impression on
you.’ He levered his arm closed. ‘I hate slags who lie to me. Tell me you’re a lying whore.’
    But she’d been on the game long enough to learn that you never told psychopaths the truth. She reached for his penis instead and set about rearousing him, knowing that if she
came out of this alive, she’d be lucky. So far, his only real pleasure had been to beat her about the face while he reached his climax, and she knew he was going to do it again.
    As he twisted his hand in her hair and yanked her backwards on to the bed, she had time to reflect on the awful irony of it all. She was so used to servicing old and inadequate men
that when the voice on the phone had translated itself into an Adonis at her door, she couldn’t believe her luck. God, but she was a stupid bitch!
    Nightingale Clinic, Salisbury – 8.20 p.m.
    The phone rang beside Jinx’s bed, setting her nerves jangling with its insistent summons to a world outside that she wasn’t sure