‘Don’t move!’ cried Chandler as he stepped back to try and avoid the collapsing doctor. He fumbled for his gun but an uncoordinated Harlan got his legs tangled, knocking them both off balance to the hard concrete floor like a pair of unwieldy dominoes.

Heath didn’t wait and bound for the door just as Nick arrived to help.

‘Nick, watch—’

Heath reacted first, lowering his shoulder and barging the young constable out of the way like a rugby player gunning for the line.

He didn’t count on the second wave of defence though. Mitch had appeared and, using a strength that belied his skinny frame, grabbed hold of the off-balance Heath, buckling his legs and sending him into a sprawled heap against the far wall outside of the cell. Heath’s cry of anguish seemed genuine this time but Mitch didn’t stop, landing on top of the suspect in an instant, pinning him down, bending his arms behind his back and causing yet more angry declarations of pain.

‘Why the fuck is Mr Barwell not cuffed?’ roared Mitch, aiming his question at Chandler.

Chandler got to his feet, leaving the doctor to get up himself. He felt like there was a spotlight on him, the stabbing beam raising the temperature in the sweltering cell through the roof.

‘Harlan had to check—’

‘Are you determined to lose them both? Bring ’em in, tag ’em and release ’em like they’re some bloody endangered species?’

‘He was complaining of chest pains. We were check— ’

‘It hurts,’ gasped Heath, pinned underneath Mitch’s well-placed knee in the back.

Mitch ignored the plea. ‘Get him cuffed and in the cell, Sergeant.’

‘Please, sir . . . chief,’ spluttered Heath, ‘they’re working with Gabriel to frame me. Or kill me. I know what these hicks are like. You have to help me.’

‘Why did you not inform me immediately that you had Gabriel?’ asked Mitch before turning to Nick who visibly cowered from the question.

‘It’s got nothing to do with Nick. It was my call,’ said Chandler.

‘I know it was, Sergeant. I was just wondering if your stupidity was infectious.’

Though locked up once again, Heath continued spouting a mixture of complaints and wild conspiracy theories. ‘Inspector, your sergeant and Gabriel are working together, trying to pin the blame on me.’

Mitch responded. ‘Keep the noise down in there, Mr Barwell.’

‘I’m not going to go down quietly,’ shouted Heath.

Mitch ignored the statement and swung towards Harlan who was resting on the bare wooden bench opposite the cells, composing himself. ‘Any chance you could sedate him?’ asked Mitch.

As Harlan was about to reply Mitch cut him off, ‘No, scrap that. I want to question him again. But first I want Gabriel.’

Flicking open the slat in the cell door, the inspector addressed Gabriel, his tone pleasant once again, the rage quenched for now. ‘How are we in there?’