Ten minutes up Butcher’s and the road spluttered into a track that was barely navigable by car. Another five and it disappeared altogether, the brush accessible by quad or scrambler only. In desperation, Mitch ordered them to follow on foot but after half an hour of laboured progress and no sign of their suspect, the foot search was called off. Mitch radioed in a chopper and roused the state police to the exits at the far end in case Gabriel appeared there.

The ride back to town was dominated by questions over the escape, the ramifications of what Gabriel had done and what he might do next. The only good news that filtered through on the way was confirmation that Tanya was okay, the cut on her scalp minor, concussion protocol passed. She’d refused to stay in hospital, insisting on returning to work. Chandler was glad. He needed all the good officers he could muster. The town was on lockdown, the streets empty aside from a few nosy locals and the ever-present mass of reporters surrounding the station. As they made their way through the crowd the same questions Chandler had himself were fired at him, questions he had no answers for; how had Gabriel managed to get free and what were they were doing to find him? How many had Gabriel killed? How many would he kill? Chandler kept his head down and offered no comment.

As they entered the station, Chandler started the inquest.

‘How did he manage to get free from those cuffs?’

The other officers looked at each other for answers. They drew a blank.

As he reached the door of the office, Mitch swung around. ‘That doesn’t matter now. We just need to get him.’

‘Of course it matters,’ frowned Chandler. ‘The procedure failed somewhere. And you’re all about procedure.’

‘I’m all about getting Gabriel back,’ replied Mitch. ‘So kill this convo and get back to work.’

The order was belted out to his team – plus Luka – and they returned to their desks. Chandler and his small crew remained in discussion.

‘He didn’t break the cuffs,’ noted Jim, ‘I checked ’em. They were unlocked, no scratches either.’

‘So he had the keys,’ said Nick from the front desk.

‘It looks like it, but how did he get the keys?’ asked Chandler.

‘Pickpocket?’ suggested Jim.

Chandler shook his head. ‘His hands were bound at all times. And no one ever got that close to him. Only . . .’

He turned to the office. Chandler suddenly knew. Yesterday, when Mitch had assaulted Gabriel in the interview room. Gabriel must have swiped them in the melee, then concealed them, waiting for the right moment to ambush Heath.

He followed Mitch into the stale air of his former office.

‘So it was you,’ said Chandler. ‘He got the keys off you.’