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inside, but I didn’t, I hid behind the front door and watched. Marc started punching the man and he started to fight back but Marc was stronger and he won. He… he really hurt him Annette. There was blood everywhere. He broke his nose and arm and he was in hospital for a week. Dad took Marc to the police station and he was given a lecture, but when the circumstances were explained no charges were brought.”
    Lucia paused and Annette filled the gap with a question, on automatic pilot while she thought about what she’d said. “What about the man?” Lucia stared at her blankly. “Was he charged?”
    Lucia nodded. “Yes. It turned out he was a known sex-offender. They locked him up for years, although he’s probably out again now.” She looked pleadingly at Annette. “So do you see why I can’t tell Marc about these e-mails? If he lost his temper that way again it would ruin his career.
    Annette nodded, thinking about what she’d just heard. It made sense. There’d been times over the years when she’d seen Craig holding something back. Keeping his emotions just a bit too tightly under control, almost as if he let go he’d never get the genie back into the bottle. Or the beast back into its cage... It was a side of him that they’d never seen, but now she knew about it she wasn’t at all surprised.
    She nodded at the pages, back in Inspector mode. “Do you have any idea who might have sent them?”
    Lucia shook her head, throwing her long hair across her face. She pushed it back with a half-smile, relieved that Annette was going to help, without Marc or her parents being told. She was a thirty-two-year-old woman but they still treated her as if she was five.
    “None. I called the phone provider but the number’s an unregistered pay-as-you-go. I’ve racked my brains for old boyfriends, or men who’ve made me feel creepy, but there’s no-one who stands out.”
    “Has anyone been hanging around your work or outside your flat?”
    “I haven’t noticed anyone, but I’ll keep a look out.”
    “I need to see the rest of the texts.”
    “There have been letters as well.”
    “Posted to your home?”
    “Yes.”
    “Any e-mails?”
    Lucia shook her head. “They probably think they’d be too easy to trace.”
    Annette thought quickly. “Right, I need to see everything you’ve received and I want you to take taxis or drive everywhere until we sort this out. Develop a leak in the ceiling of your bedroom, bad enough so that you have to stay with your folks for a week or so while it’s repaired.”
    “But, I…”
    “But nothing, Lucia. Those are my terms for keeping this under the radar. Tell me now if you can’t go along with them and I’ll hand the case over to Marc.”
    Annette folded her arms stubbornly and Lucia could see from her expression that she wasn’t playing games. She nodded reluctantly.
    “Meanwhile, I’ll get Davy to do his thing with the texts and letters and get patrols to drive past your flat and see what they pick up. Don’t tell anyone at your work about this, or that you’re staying with your folks.”
    Lucia smiled, relieved. Annette made a good Inspector and she trusted her. She just hoped that Marc didn’t find out. Keeping this from him could put them both in his bad books for a long, long time.

Chapter Eight
     
    Sunday Morning
     
    Craig slumped down to breakfast nursing the hangover from hell, to see three other men feeling exactly the same. The only comfort was that Andy looked worse than all of them and he’d had the least to drink. They’d poured him into bed at three a.m. and continued their session in Liam’s room, trying to persuade John that he wasn’t in love with the barmaid and that death at Natalie’s hands would be far more painful than his imagined loss.
    “How come none of you look as rough as me, hey? You drank the Bann dry last night.”
    Liam nodded sagely. “Aye well, that’ll explain it then. We’re used to drinking the Lagan and it’s