‘We could tell the cops everything. You shot an unarmed man after voluntarily getting into his car, but given who he was and what he did to you in the past, you have good odds of a temporary insanity defence. You’d have to explain why you brought the gun with you in the first place, though. Do you have a concealed carry licence?’

‘No. You sound like you have another option.’

‘You can go home. Take a shower. Scrub your hands. Throw those clothes in someone else’s trash. Go out for brunch with some friends tomorrow, somewhere public. Act normal. Pay with plastic. In a few days, buy some bullets to replace the ones you used.’

‘What about you?’

‘I can make Shannon disappear.’

‘And his friend?’

‘Him too.’

Hope nods again. ‘Okay,’ she says. ‘Let’s do this.’

She cuts the last piece of tape, and I can breathe again. I peel the severed strands off my clothes.

Hope holds out the gun for me to take.

‘I don’t want that,’ I say. ‘Wipe it clean, unload it, put it back in your dad’s safe.’

Together, we lift Shannon’s body and dump it in the tray of the pick-up. There’s an old newspaper in there. I use bunched-up pages to scrub the windshield and the side window. The driver’s seat is still soaked in blood. I’ll have to live with that until I’m somewhere safe.

‘You really think we’ll get away with this?’ Hope asks, as I throw the bloody newspaper into the tray and close the lid.

‘You will,’ I say. ‘If I get caught, I won’t turn you in.’ Not that anyone would believe me anyway, a wanted criminal blaming this young woman for murder.

‘Have you done anything like this before?’ Hope asks.

‘No.’ The truth. The things I’ve done were much worse than this. ‘But it’ll work.’

I drive her back to the stadium parking lot. The sun is rising as I let her out near her car. As I’m pulling over, my phone beeps. I check the message.

Text me your address, sweetie. I’ll pick you up at dusk. Bring $500 cash, and be ready for an unforgettable night. X—Sleeping Beauty

‘Problem?’ Hope asks.

‘No problem.’

She opens the car door. Hesitates. The cold air flows in.

‘Did he really kill my dad?’ she asks.

It would give her closure, believing that she’d avenged her father’s death. If I tell the truth, the guilt might overwhelm her.

But Shannon was a bad guy, who intended to kill us both. And if tonight goes the way I think it will, everything will be out in the open soon.

‘No,’ I say.

Hope looks up at the lightening sky, blinking away tears. Blood dribbles from the corner of the open car door, like sand through an hourglass.