When I went into the radio station on Monday evening, April was prowling the corridor, waiting for me. She had her arms wrapped around herself like she was restrained in an imaginary straight-jacket, and there were livid spots of color on her cheeks. She came down the passage towards me, holding up her cell phone like it was a weapon. “Have you seen or heard from Nancy fucking Collett?” April fumed as she came closer. I chose my words carefully. “Not today,” I shook my head. “Well I fucking have!” I’m an intuitive guy – I pay attention. My super sharp instincts told me that April was pissed, and that Nancy was the problem. Clever guy, right? April thrust her cell phone into my hand. “Read that!” I looked down at the phone. There was a text message – just a few lines. I ran my eyes over the message that Nancy had sent, and then looked up at April.
