‘At the minute anything’s possible, Mr Barwell. And if he is out there and after you, then the safest place you can be is in here.’

Heath laughed, a shrill screech that Chandler noted was a little unhinged. ‘Safe? After you believed his bullshit story and let him go.’

‘A story identical to yours.’

‘They can’t be exactly the same.’

Chandler yanked the metal flap in the cell door down to view his prisoner. Heath was pressed up close to the door, the cross around his neck strangling greasy, sweat-stained flesh.

‘The guts of it, yes.’

‘Like what?’

Chandler smiled. ‘I can’t disclose that.’

‘So you’re just gonna lock me in here and wait to see what happens? See whether he’ll break in and finish what he started?’

‘There’s due process to go—’

‘Due process, my arse. You just want to see if you can find him again. And if you can’t find him, you’ll pin this shit on me. I know how this goes down. What the fuck happened to innocent ’til proved guilty?’

‘Some would say you muddied that line in attempting to steal a car. We have enough to charge you for with that.’

‘Yeah? And why would I steal a car if I wasn’t scared for my life? I’m no criminal.’ Heath paused, his fingers playing with the cross around his neck, twirling it over and around. ‘Okay, one little assault,’ he continued, ‘but I was drunk and they were drunk. They were mouthing off about a pal of mine.’

As Heath talked, Chandler studied his behaviour. He was finding Heath hard to read. He sweated like a guilty man but in that cake tin of a cell he would have to be inhuman not to sweat, as there was little or no breeze blowing through the tiny, square window. Heath was alone in there surrounded by walls steeped in the oily sins of those who’d come before. As his rant continued, Heath started to puff, his swollen cheeks filling with air. Given his aggressive manner and quick temper it was easy to mark him as a possible killer.

‘So I hit him,’ continued Heath. ‘It was no big deal. He didn’t want to press charges, I didn’t want to press charges; but the manager called the cops anyway.’ Heath stopped. He stared at Chandler, seeming to spot something he didn’t like. Maybe a look that told him he was getting nowhere.

‘You’re making a big mistake,’ said Heath, his tone suddenly threatening. ‘Once I get out of here . . .’ Chandler waited for the explosion and rage-driven confession. If he could get it wrapped up before Mitch got here he’d avoid his own firing squad.