‘If you get me to a hospital,’ she says, ‘I’ll cancel the order. I’ll save the FBI agent.’

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 47

What goes up when rain comes down?

If a doctor restarts your heart after a flatline, that means your heart never actually stopped. All the parts of it were just unfocused. Twitching all at different times, instead of one coordinated thump. Like the first time Thistle and I had sex, the rhythm wrong, our hips out of sync.

Too long in that state, and you die. Your brain, starved of oxygenated blood, curdles in your skull. But if the defibrillator gets there first, it shocks the confused cells, forcing them into line. Uniting them to a common goal.

‘She’s not dead yet,’ Warner continues. ‘At least, probably not. Vasquez told her to keep what she knew about you to herself, in case other people at the FBI were compromised. Then I sent Tyrrell to her house. But I can call him off. There might still be time.’

A minute ago my heart wanted a dozen different things, but none of them very much. Now it’s desperate for just one thing.

Save Thistle.

‘Make the call,’ I yell.

‘Get me to the hospital first,’ Warner says.

I emerge from the shrubbery. If she shoots me, she shoots me.

‘Jesus,’ she says, staring. Covered in mud, blood and scraps of flesh, I finally look like what I am. A demon.

‘Make the call,’ I say.

‘Hospital first,’ she says.

Snarling, I grab her and drag her into the passenger seat of Sindy’s car. The van has too many bullet holes and smears of blood. The car is unlocked, but I don’t have the time or the tools to hotwire it. I run over to Sindy’s corpse and dig through her pockets until I find her keys.

By the time I get back to the car, Warner’s eyes are closed.

‘No!’ I slap her. If she dies, so does Thistle.

Warner’s eyelids flutter. She looks at me. ‘Jesus,’ she says again.

I dig her phone out of her pocket and press it into her hand. ‘Make the call,’ I say. I turn the key, and the engine grumbles.

Warner swipes to unlock the phone, leaving a smudge of blood on the screen.

‘Take me to the hospital,’ she says.

‘I’m doing it! Make the fucking call.’ I floor the accelerator. The wheels spin in the dirt for a second before the tread catches and the car lurches back up the driveway.

When I glance over, Warner appears to be swiping through her contacts. Looking for Tyrrell, I hope.

‘Put it on speaker,’ I say. ‘I want to hear every word you say.’

She mumbles something. My ears are still ringing.

‘What?’ I say.

‘I’m calling him,’ she says. ‘I’m doing it. Just get …’