‘So how d’you find yourself in here?’ he asked, as he swabbed a graze on Heath’s cheek that had turned black with dust.

‘Harlan . . .’ warned Chandler.

‘They think—’ Heath began.

‘Mr Barwell, you too,’ said Chandler, interrupting.

‘Any chatter and I take the doc away.’

‘Just watch yourself son,’ said Harlan with a mischievous grin. ‘Don’t go ending up like Skinny Bishop. Skinny didn’t think he was guilty either. But after a while in here, it turned out that, despite all the evidence – or lack of – he was!’

‘Harlan, I’ll take you outside right now,’ said Chandler, even though he was aware that, by ordering the doctor to shut up, he lent credence to the myth and that a similar stitch-up might befall Heath.

‘Who’s Skinny?’ asked Heath, his ruddy face looking a little panicked.

Shaking his head and chuckling away to himself, the doctor’s expert hands moved to Heath’s ribs, prodding them gently. Heath jerked backwards, his hands coming up as if to ward off the doctor. Chandler stepped in to subdue him, but Heath lowered them again as the doctor removed his fingers.

Only when Harlan stepped back and rubbed his smooth chin did Chandler realize that his heart was pounding in his chest.

‘Bruised. Possibly broken,’ said Harlan.

‘They feel broken,’ said Heath, adjusting his position and wincing.

‘You’ll need to uncuff him,’ said Harlan.

‘Why?’ asked Chandler, glancing at Heath, searching for any reason to deny the request.

‘I need to check his range of movement. Make sure it isn’t something more serious.’

‘Is that necessary?’ asked Chandler.

Harlan leaned in close. ‘Unless you want him to twist some way and accidentally puncture a lung.’

Chandler looked at Heath.

‘Okay, get up and face the wall, Mr Barwell.’

Heath didn’t need to be asked twice and stood, staring at the wall, as Chandler removed the cuffs.

Chandler turned him around. Heath’s face was beaded in sweat, pain and fear. ‘Now no sudden movement, or you’ll be back in these, broken ribs or not.’

Heath nodded so Chandler helped him back to a seated position. This time he stayed within arm’s reach of his suspect, Harlan squeezing in between them to perform his diagnosis.

Grabbing Heath’s forearms Harlan raised them.

‘Hold there, son.’

Heath did as ordered, looking first at the doctor, then at Chandler. Chandler felt an unease rise within him, exposed as Harlan nudged him out of the way as he made Heath twist to the side.

‘Well?’ asked Chandler, wanting the cuffs back on his prisoner as soon as possible.

Heath opened his mouth. Chandler waited for him to emit a gasp of pain.

Instead he rose in a flash, shoving the rotund physician into Chandler.