As the cop strolled back to his colleagues, Harry retreated at a rapid crawl. When he reached the disused car wash, he got to his feet, his expensive camera in one hand and one knee smeared in black, oily, God-knows-what.

Stupid idea coming here.

Harry moved round the back of Tire Maxx, but only got halfway when a shadow loomed from above. The bright sun silhouetted the figure leaping off the roof. Harry’s legs buckled as the body hit him, one arm scraping the metal siding as his palms tore through grit.

A cloud of dirt filled Harry’s mouth as he inhaled, setting off a coughing fit as the figure landed on his back. It was a girl, a full head shorter than Harry. She locked a strong arm round his waist. Harry fancied his chances of throwing her off, but before he could move a pistol tip jammed into his cheek.

‘Why are you sniffing around?’ Charlie Croker demanded. ‘Who are you?’

7 BEAUTIFUL FREAK

‘Quit your whining,’ Charlie said, looking over her back, hoping the cops hadn’t heard Harry’s coughing fit.

‘I …’ Harry gasped, but the dirt trapped in the back of his throat made him hack noisily again, and grit was scraping around in his left eye.

‘Inside,’ Charlie ordered, standing up but keeping the gun aimed right at him.

Her voice wasn’t confident. Harry wondered if nerves made her more or less likely to shoot him.

‘Inside,’ she repeated, dragging a piece of metal sheet to expose a tire-propped fire door behind it.

Harry realised his palm was bleeding as he crawled in. Charlie took a final glance towards the house, crouching behind him and pulling the siding back over the doorway

The space was gloomy. A metal roof and no air-con made the heat unbearable. It had once been Tire Maxx’s employee break room. There was a wall of lockers, a long-dead drinks dispenser and a shift rota on the wall, over which some joker had inked, We broke! Ya asses all FIRED!

Charlie stripped a bottle of water from a pack of a dozen CVS branded bottles and passed it to Harry with a gruff, ‘Here.’

Harry gulped desperately, swallowing some and spitting the rest on chequered floor tiles as Charlie threw him a grubby cloth.

‘To wipe your hands.’

It took a minute to blink grit, wipe bleeding palms and get the violent coughing down to an occasional hack.

Charlie had run a wire down from a portable solar panel on the roof. It powered an abused laptop, a desk lamp and a fan that pushed heat from one spot to another. She put the gun down, and started inspecting Harry’s camera, just as his vision cleared enough to get a proper look at her.