‘Doesn’t feel right,’ he said finally. ‘Me in here with hot tea and toast and Elliot out there in the dark.’

‘Up to you,’ said Reg softly, putting the mug and plate down on knitted mats on his kitchen table. ‘But you’re no use to your boy if you’re weaker than a newborn runt.’

Dave looked into the kindly eyes of the village postman. He’d known him since he was younger than Elliot – he was a good friend.

‘Besides,’ Reg whispered, ‘you didn’t hear it from me, but I make a much better brew than Maud. So, you’d best drink mine before she gets back and makes you her old dishwater.’

With a feeble snort of laughter, Dave picked up the toast and nibbled an edge.

‘Your boy Elliot’s a tough one,’ said Reg. ‘He’s made it through these past few years on his own. Few more days ain’t gonna hurt him.’

‘He shouldn’t have made it through anything on his own!’ growled Dave, dropping the toast. ‘It’s all my fault . . .’

‘So what if it is?’ said Reg plainly. ‘What use is bellyaching over it now? I’ve lived enough yesterdays to know you can’t change ’em. So let’s just focus on the tomorrows that we can.’

‘But what if tomorrow we find . . . What if Elliot’s . . . What if . . . ?’

Dave’s head dropped into his hands. He couldn’t bear to think about all the what-ifs.

He felt Reg’s crinkled hand fold over his own.

‘What if we find him?’ said the old postie gently. ‘Let’s just focus on that. Oh, that reminds me – I ran into Felix Simpson today outside the library.’

‘What did he say?’ said Dave stiffly. He’d had some warm correspondence from the librarian while he was in prison, but he hadn’t had the chance to face Felix, the man he shot the night he was forced to rob Kowalski Gems.

‘He said he’d talk to his old pals on the force,’ said Reg reassuringly. ‘He’ll let us know the second they discover anything. He apologizes for not being out there looking himself but – you know . . .’

Dave knew exactly why Felix couldn’t roam the countryside looking for Elliot. Dave Hooper had shot him in the leg. He might have saved Felix’s life that night, but he’d taken his mobility. It didn’t need saying out loud.

Dave looked out of the window at the dark night beyond.

‘It’s no good, I need to get back out there,’ he said, reaching for his coat. ‘I can’t stay here.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Reg, putting his hands on his knees to push himself out of his armchair. Dave put a staying hand on his shoulder.

‘You get some sleep – you’ve been out with me every night,’ said Dave. ‘You need your rest.’