She’s blacked out again. Her skin is deathly white. It’s surreal to see someone so terrifying look so helpless. Charlie Warner has killed dozens of people, and ruined the lives of many others.

The phone is ringing. I shove her shoulder. Her head thunks against the window, and she gasps.

‘Stay awake,’ I say. ‘If Thistle dies, I’ll eat you alive. You understand? I’m not being figurative.’

The phone keeps ringing for a while, and then cuts out.

‘He’s not picking up,’ she says unnecessarily.

‘Try again.’

She fiddles with the phone as the car hurtles down the highway. After what seems like way too long, the phone starts ringing again. I’m clenching my remaining teeth so hard it feels like they might fracture.

The phone keeps ringing.

Warner’s eyes are closed again.

‘Hey!’ I backhand Warner across the face.

She looks at me through bleary eyes. ‘Dad?’

I never wondered about Warner’s early life, and I’m not going to start now. ‘I’m not your dad,’ I say. ‘Focus. You have to call Tyrrell. Tell him to stop what he’s doing immediately.’

The phone keeps ringing for a while, and then cuts out again.

‘Try again,’ I say.

Warner looks out the window. ‘This isn’t the way to the hospital,’ she says.

She’s right. But she’s too weak to do anything about it.

Soon we reach Thistle’s house. It’s a one-storey, two-bedroom place with stucco walls and a small lawn out front, ripped to shreds by her dog.

Tyrrell’s car is parked a few houses up. I’m too late.

‘No!’ I unbuckle my seatbelt and leap out of the car, leaving it in the middle of the street with the engine running.

I run up the path to the front door. Try the handle. It’s unlocked.

I sneak in. Tyrrell is here. I don’t want to spook him, especially if he has Thistle. The floorboards creak under the synthetic rug, and I wince. I listen for breaths or footsteps, but I can’t hear anything over my racing heart.

She might still be alive. Maybe. Tyrrell might be the kind of killer who takes his time.

I grit my teeth and shake my head, trying to dislodge the image of Thistle bound to a chair or stuck in a bear trap. Then I creep further into the house.