‘Nah.’ Tyrone shook his head then dropped it low. Jackson knew he was suffering. The guy had been helpless to stop the butchering of his girl. And now Jason Cotton wanted to frame him. Jackson had no doubt that the coppers used Jason just like they used him. He would be surprised if Adam was in the loop, and now Jason had realised that to survive this particular little mess, he’d have to cut his brother loose. Jason had asked Jackson to make sure that Adam was with Tyrone at the other flat, when he planned to turn them both in. He had also asked Jackson to get rid of some incriminating gear that had been left in a bedroom there. At least one knife pulled from the pond would implicate Adam in the first murder, and no one would be able to prove that he didn’t carry out the second as well.

It was quite similar to what the coppers had asked Jackson to do, except they’d prefer the Cotton brothers weren’t taken off the streets just yet. But that was information he planned on sharing with no one. Tyrone was his friend, but he wasn’t bright and couldn’t be trusted with details.

‘If I turn myself in, I’ll go down for something I didn’t do. If I stay here, Jason will get me. I don’t trust that bastard.’

‘And rightly so. Neither do I.’

‘So what do I do, Guns?’

‘Trust no one. Stay here instead of that dive. They want you there so they can use you when the time is right.’

‘But they’ll find out where I am.’

‘Not if I’m the only one who knows.’

‘It won’t take long to check.’

‘They could be going round in circles for weeks. You could be in a warehouse anywhere from Penrith to Workington. Sit tight. I’m gonna go and see Sharon.’

‘Sharon! She hates my guts.’

‘Maybe she won’t after I talk to her.’

Jackson left the flat, making sure there was stuff in the fridge to keep Tyrone from venturing out; his stomach ruled his head. Satisfied, he headed to the barricade, where he thought he might find her. Sure enough, she was speaking to a group of people and she looked in her element: the centre of attention and in charge.

‘Guns?’

‘Shaz. I know you’re busy, but can I borrow you?’

‘What did those coppers want? I told the detective in charge.’

‘What? Who?’

‘The police detective in charge of Keira’s murder. She’s the only one who seems decent. Did you see the appeal on TV? Why the fuck wasn’t I invited to that? It should have been a joint effort. That jumped-up rich guy offering all that cash: he hasn’t even had the decency to call me. We should be doing stuff like that together.’