Chandler entered first and brought out his cuffs.

‘There’s no need for those,’ said Heath, his hands up. ‘I want a lawyer.’

‘Why do you need a lawyer if you’re innocent?’ asked Mitch, frowning.

‘Everyone gets a lawyer,’ said Heath.

‘Maybe so,’ said Mitch, maintaining his cool, ‘but only those who are guilty insist on one. All I want to do is go over your story. To catch up with my colleague here and understand what you’ve been through.’

Heath frowned, staring at Mitch, as if trying to gauge his real intentions.

After a moment’s pause he turned to face the wall, allowing Chandler to slide the cuffs over his injured wrists. Chandler felt the man flinch in pain. Ushering him to the interview room, he placed Heath in a seat before carefully removing the cuffs.

‘I’m only going to be repeating myself,’ said Heath, gently rubbing his wrists while looking first at Mitch and then Chandler who had taken up position at his colleague’s shoulder.

Mitch led the questioning, his silver cufflinks glinting in the light – large, angular and expensive, flashy but not showy, elegant with a sense of understatement. Silver had always been Mitch’s favourite, possibly a reminder of the badge he held so dear, but maybe just because silver was a statement of grandeur. Mitch liked statements.

Heath started talking. He recounted a story which stuck pretty much to the original, maybe a little more polished as he recited it a second time, detailed when it came to the part about hitch-hiking, vague about the drugging and escape. Only one difference stood out to Chandler, a recollection of a name on one of the papers in the cabin: Seth. When Mitch pushed him on it, Heath said that it was something he only now recalled, a name written in big, red letters as if of utmost importance. Chandler made a note to check for Seths amongst the records of missing people.

‘If you had managed to steal the car where would you have gone?’ asked Mitch, eyes cast to his notes as if it were merely a question to pass the time.

‘Anywhere,’ said Heath, beads of sweat trickling from underneath his hairline.

‘You claimed in your original statement that you were headed here. To town,’ said Mitch, raising his eyes to stare at his suspect.

‘I was . . . but all I wanted to do was get away from him. I still do, but you’ve trapped me in here, while he—’

Heath’s entire body shook, some stray beads of sweat escaping his flushed skin and landing on the desk.

‘Trying to steal a car is hardly the act of an innocent man,’ noted Mitch.

‘Yeah, it’s the act of a scared one,’ said Heath.

‘What about your past?’ asked Mitch. Chandler knew Mitch was changing topics to try and throw the suspect off and get him to reveal something.

‘What about it?’

‘Family?’

‘Don’t have any.’