Chandler searched for an excuse. And found none. He could have got a phone number, he should have got a phone number. He had no excuse but tried anyway.

‘My girlfriend back then . . . my wife. My ex-wife—’

‘The one I met at your parents?’ interrupted Gabriel.

Chandler clenched his teeth, remembering his injured father.

‘Yes. She was nine months pregnant at the time. About to give birth. Well, after the search she did. She gave birth to Sarah and other things took over. Trying to live took over.’

Gabriel growled. ‘Trying to live took over my family as well. Only they couldn’t do it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What I mean, Chandler, sorry, Sergeant, is that they died in a car crash three months after we came home.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Chandler meant it.

‘I’m sure you are now.’

‘Was it an accident?’ asked Chandler.

‘They found nothing wrong with the car,’ said Gabriel, matter-of-factly.

‘Were you—?’

The shadow nodded. ‘Yes, but I was wearing a seat belt. They weren’t. They died instantly,’ said Gabriel, a little tremor in his voice.

‘So Geoffrey and Dina took you in?’

‘Tell me, Chandler, those kids of yours . . . have you ever punished them?’ Again the soft voice turned sinister, the torchlight shaking. Gabriel’s emotions were taking over. Chandler wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Did he want a calm, rational man who might see sense, or an irate Gabriel who might make a mistake? A fatal mistake?

‘Of course,’ said Chandler, hesitantly.

‘No, I mean, really punished them.’

‘A smack across the backside if they did something really awful when they were younger, but that wasn’t often.’

‘Would you punish them even if they were good?’

‘No.’

‘For instance,’ continued Gabriel, ‘would you punish Sarah for not getting her lines right at her First Confession?’

With the conversation drifting back to his children, Chandler sought to keep Gabriel talking, to heighten the chances of him divulging where Sarah and Jasper were being kept. But he knew he needed to tread carefully, given the subject and noticeable quiver in the beam aimed at him.

‘Of course not. Nobody’s perfect,’ he replied.

‘Exactly,’ said Gabriel, some softness returning, obviously pleased at the response. ‘Nothing and nobody’s perfect. People aren’t perfect. Would you want your child to be taught at the end of a stick? Beaten and abused for failing?’

‘Is that what happened to you?’

There was a pause as the torchlight readjusted.

Chandler continued, ‘Because when I asked them—’

Gabriel exploded with anger. ‘You talked to them?’

‘I was trying—’

‘Why did you talk to them?’

‘To find out what might be going on inside—’ He had said too much.

‘Inside my head?’ spat Gabriel. ‘My head is clear. My actions are clear. I am of solid mind and body. Those zealot bastards however . . .’ Gabriel trailed off.

Chandler jumped in, attempting to get on Gabriel’s good side again.