Page 21 of 36 Hours

Kim kneeled down and took a look. Jerry was right.

‘May I?’ she asked, holding out her hand.

He placed the grabber handle in her palm.

She used the long arm to prise the tin free and then scoop it towards her. She briefly considered calling the forensic techies, but right now she had nothing to tell them.

For all she knew, the only thing in the box could be a big fat ‘Gotcha’ note. If so, she could buy her team a late breakfast, send them home and forget all about it. But her gut said otherwise.

‘Thanks, Jerry – good job,’ she said as Fred finally caught up with them.

‘Guys, just step this way for me,’ Bryant said, corralling them to the side as another couple of litter-pickers appeared.

She saw immediately that there was no key in the lock.

Having moved the people away, Bryant reappeared and handed her a pair of latex gloves.

‘I mean, why would you have a pair of these in every piece of clothing you own?’

He produced another pair with a grin. ‘Even weirder that I’ve got two pairs cos you always forget.’

He wasn’t wrong, she thought as she tentatively lifted the lid of the box.

Inside were three things.

An index card.

A small white envelope.

An old Dictaphone.

‘Card first,’ Bryant suggested.

She picked it up and read the words aloud.

‘“Cubed chieftain slithers around Bonzo. Find my next by three or…”’ Kim paused and shook her head. ‘What the hell?’

Having donned his own gloves, Bryant took the card from her and took out his phone.

She already knew he’d be calling Stacey to pass along what had to be the next clue.

Next, she reached for the envelope that looked like it was from some kind of stationery kit. She turned it around, looking for any hints. The envelope had a bulge but wasn’t heavy.

Kim lifted the flap with no idea what she was going to find inside.

‘Oh, Jesus Christ,’ she said as the nausea rose in her stomach.

Having read out the clue, Bryant ended his call to Stacey and looked over her shoulder.

‘What the…?Oh no,’ he said, clenching his fist as though to protect his own.

Contained in the envelope were a bunch of dirty, bloody fingernails that had obviously been ripped from the nailbed.

Kim looked up at the group of volunteers that were inching closer.

‘Get ’em back, Fred, right back,’ she instructed.

He hesitated before springing into action and shepherding the volunteers away.