Lily emerges from the grass and stumbles onto the gravel. Her clothes are smudged with dirt, and she has a tear in the thigh of her trousers. “Edna?” she says. “I couldn’t stop it.” She holds up two red palms. “I couldn’t stop the blood.”

Doggett arrives behind her. “Jesus Christ!”

Rabbani takes hold of the woman’s dangerously thin arms and Lily starts to cry. She can’t see any wounds on the woman. “It’s not hers,” she says. “I don’t think it’s hers. Lily, whose blood is this?”

“He said it wasn’t his fault,” she says. “Gerry told us all about it, but it wasn’t his fault. Cynthia goaded him into it.”

“Where’s DC Daley?” Doggett grabs Lily’s arm, causing her to cry out.

“That’s not helping,” Rabbani snaps, and Doggett raises an eyebrow at her.

“Here!” Enfield is ahead of them. He’s followed the path of flattened grass back in the direction Lily came from. He crouches down and Doggett runs ahead, leaving Rabbani to shepherd Lily back the way she came.

“It’s Daley,” Doggett shouts.

“Head trauma,” says Enfield. “He’s lost a lot of blood but there’s a pulse.”

“Daley! Guy, mate, can you hear me?”

Doggett pulls out his mobile and dials while Enfield tears off his T-shirt, exposing a tight black chest that Rabbani just manages to appreciate before she sees the scar that covers his neck and left shoulder. He balls the shirt in his hand and presses it hard against Daley’s head. Guy Daley groans.

“Oh! Hello, dear.” Lily is back. “Please! You have to get him out!”

There’s a loud crack and one of the windows of the house shatters, smoke spiraling skyward from the hole.

Lily shouts, “Oscar!”

Enfield takes off in the direction of the house.

“Wait,” Doggett shouts. “Shit! Shit! SHIT!” He turns to Rabbani. “Keep pressure on that wound and wait for the ambulance. You’d better call the fire brigade as well.” He hares after Enfield.

“Oscar,” Lily shouts after them. “No, you mustn’t hurt him! Leave him alone!”

Rabbani presses the woman against her shoulder. “It’s all right, Lily, love. They’ll get him out.”

But the woman’s eyes have glazed over.

—

Tyler opens his eyes on a landscape of color. There’s a hole in his skull and something sharp and pointed is being jabbed, over and over again, into his brain. He reaches up instinctively and immediately regrets it, as a white-hot lance of pain stabs through him. The burning sensation ripples and courses through his head, making him retch.

He forces himself to be still and wait for the pain to subside. Slowly, carefully, he opens his eyes again. This time he sees only darkness. His fingertips are wet and warm, and when he lifts them to his nose he smells the coppery odor of his own blood. It’s a deep wound. But he knows head wounds always bleed badly. It isn’t necessarily something to worry about.