He was uncomfortably aware of his bladder, but didn’t want to risk asking to get up. He rather hoped Colthorne was getting sleepy, though even if he was, it wouldn’t do much good. Aaron had been lying still for the best part of three hours; he’d be stiff as a board when he tried to rise, and there was very little to be done against a man with a gun.

At last, the electric bell went. It was the doorbell, not the one for the front door of the building. Apparently Joel had got someone to let him in. Aaron felt a wave of fear so intense it left him nauseous.

“Is that the downstairs?” Colthorne demanded, rising.

“No. He’s at the door.”

“Get up. Open it. And keep your mouth shut or I’ll kill you both,” Colthorne said, very low, stepping to one side.

Aaron hauled himself off the floor. His knees hurt from the enforced stillness. The buzzer went again; Colthorne gestured angrily.

Aaron limped to the door, trying to loosen his muscles. Colthorne could see his face, he’d be able to see his mouth move if he tried to mime a warning.

So he’d shoot Aaron first, that was all. Joel would not set foot in here if Aaron could stop him.

He took a deep breath, pulled the door open, and saw DC Helen Challice.

“Good evening, sir,” she said merrily, stepping in without invitation, so that Aaron automatically recoiled. “I thought I’d come to say hello. And the DDI! Marvellous! We’re all here for a lovely chat. Oh goodness.” She cocked her head like a bird, looking at the revolver in Colthorne’s hand. “Why have you got a gun in your hand, sir?”

“Why are you here?” Colthorne gritted.

“I wanted to see the DS,” Challice said calmly. “So I came. With my friends.”

She walked all the way into the sitting room, followed by Sergeant Hollis and a uniformed constable whose name Aaron couldn’t recall. They both stared at Colthorne, at the revolver he held.

“Get out,” Colthorne said, but it didn’t have nearly enough force.

“You should put that away, sir,” Hollis told him, voice very level. “Not safe in a domestic environment.”

Colthorne’s face was trying for rigid, but his throat worked spasmodically; Aaron could see the muscles twitch and jump. He was running calculations in his head, trying to find a way forward, but there was none at all, not any more, except self-destruction. His eyes flicked to Aaron, and Aaron could see the thought, the At least I’ll take him with me, filling his mind—

“Please give me the gun, sir,” Challice said and stepped forward, directly in front of the revolver.

There was an endless, horrible moment in which nobody breathed, then Colthorne lowered his weapon. “I am your Divisional Detective Inspector,” he said thickly. “Mind your damned business, girl. There will be a reprimand.”