Chandler decided to try and placate Ken. ‘Okay, Ken, what did he do?’ he asked.

‘More like what’a caught him doing.’

Chandler strained his head forward, not daring to move the rest of his body in case it set Ken off.

‘He was trying to steal ma’ car.’

‘He was at your place?’ asked Chandler. If this was Heath, he must have been looking for a car in order to flee. Or pursue his prey.

‘No, I was out near Turtle’s. Hunting some of those bastard rabbits. Was coming back to the car when I caught this bastard trying to start it. A fella’s property is a fella’s property,’ said Ken, wide-eyed and acting as innocent as the rabbits he was supposedly hunting.

Chandler knew full well that the rabbit story was bullshit. If Ken had been around Turtle’s then it was almost certain that he’d been stealing eggs from the chicken coops; but that was a follow-up for another day. Right now he needed Ken to back off and let him take his captive into custody so he could ask more questions and confirm his suspicions.

‘Quite right, Ken, quite right,’ agreed Chandler. ‘Now if you let me have him, I can arrest him.’

‘I wasn’t trying—’ started the man. The barrel shoved into his back stopped him.

‘Ya bloody were, I caught ya,’ said Ken, shouting into the ear of his hostage before diverting his attention back to Chandler. ‘There’ll be handprints . . . fingerprints on the steering wheel. And before you think it, I ain’t got nothing to do with the blood. Ya can’t do me for that. He already had it on him.’

‘I believe you, Ken. Now—’

‘I didn’t lay a finger on him. Tell him.’ Ken prodded the gun into his hostage’s back.

His hostage stuttered, ‘It wasn’t—’

Ken didn’t let him finish. ‘There, ya’see.’

‘I see,’ said Chandler. He directed the conversation to the hostage, who fitted Gabriel’s description of the serial killer. ‘Are you okay?’

There was hurt in the man’s eyes. ‘No, I’m not okay. Do I look okay?’ he said, followed by a wince of pain. Not the barrel this time – something else was causing him discomfort.

Ken jabbed the barrel again, producing a grunt from his hostage. ‘Tell them what you done, boy. Or what you were trying to do when’a stopped ya.’

‘Ken, let us handle this,’ said Chandler.

‘If I get him to admit it you can’t charge me with anything.’

‘I’m not going to charge you with anything, Ken, but you need to put the gun down. Now!’ Chandler realized that he needed to end this. The longer Ken stood there the more twitchy his trigger-finger could become.

Luka interrupted. ‘We can’t take any of this as evidence, Ken, as you have him at gunpoint.’