Mitch paced to the far end of the room, head lowered, reeking of guilt. If only Gabriel had looked as guilty earlier, all this shit could have been prevented, thought Chandler.

‘He must have taken them off me,’ said Mitch, speaking quietly, refusing to go into details. ‘But we need to keep it quiet.’

‘Why?’

Mitch rubbed his ever-darkening stubble. ‘If this leaks, we’ll have a million more questions. From above and below. What matters now is that we catch Gabriel before he has the chance to kill again.’

Mitch looked desperate. It was the first time since the search for Martin that Chandler had seen his former friend like this. If only he was capable of looking vulnerable a little more often, then people might have considered him human. Despite this unexpected glimpse of humanity, a significant part of Chandler considered handing the information over to the press, a simple loose word or two that would spread like a virus and infect every news station with the tale of the bumbling inspector. Worse – the negligent inspector. But even though it was tempting, Chandler recognized the underlying truth to what Mitch had said: how Gabriel had got free was secondary to apprehending him again. If the distraction over the lost keys resulted in someone else getting killed, Chandler would never be able to forgive himself. So he made the decision – he would keep the information for now, save it as a bargaining chip.

Another realization forced its way out of his mouth. ‘After taking them off you Gabriel had the keys all day. He could have escaped at any time but he waited until Heath was exposed.’

‘So . . . ?’ said Mitch.

‘So, instead of me catching him outside the station, I think he purposefully turned himself in to stay close to Heath.’

‘So there must be some sort of connection.’

Chandler nodded. ‘Some reason to risk his freedom for that one chance to kill Heath.’

Heath was brought back into the interview room, his lawyer in tow. He was furious. This time Mitch made a point to invite Chandler to accompany him.

‘There’s no connection,’ said Heath, his voice insistent. ‘I swear it. I’m a victim.’

Chandler spoke up. ‘And you’re sure you didn’t run into him earlier? On a farm, or on a job? Months, even years ago?’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

‘Might you have done something to someone he knows – or loves? You didn’t sleep with his wife, ex-wife, sister?’

‘What? Are you asking if I brought this on myself?’ asked Heath, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

‘Yes,’ said Mitch. ‘You have quite an abrasive personality, Mr Barwell.’

‘I have an abrasive personality? What about this fucking joke of a police force? I’ve told you that I’m the victim. Four fucking times now.’