‘Jack, stop being silly.’ Robert lifts the gun out of his son’s reach.

‘Is this what you want?’ I hiss at Robert, the shine on my Best Supporting Wife medal growing more tarnished by the second.

‘Mrs Coleman, please, ma’am,’ Bob says hastily, ‘you’re worrying unduly. We’re dedicated patriots, all of us, and we’re here to secure America’s boundaries and safeguard its good citizens. These guns are for protection, nothing more. Our aim is only to apprehend these individuals.’ He pats the radio in his belt pouch. ‘All we do when we come across one is radio the Border Patrol and get them to make the pick-up.’

‘Dad says we can make a game of it,’ Hogan’s youngest chips in. ‘See who can catch the most!’

‘Cody, that’s enough,’ Hogan warns, joining us.

‘Look, most don’t give you any trouble,’ Bob intervenes soothingly. ‘They’re pretty traumatized and they have respect for a uniform. That’s why we wear it. It confuses the hell out of them. They don’t know who we are but they know we’re authority and that’s good enough.’

‘Hell, some of them even lie down on their stomachs without us having to ask,’ Cody boasts.

‘I want Daddy to catch the most,’ Jack chants. ‘I want Daddy to catch the most!’

‘Go inside, Jack,’ I snap. ‘Right now.’

‘And what about the ones that don’t lie down on their stomachs for you?’ I say. ‘What about Duval?’

‘Henry Duval is another matter,’ Hogan says self-importantly. ‘The man’s wanted on a murder charge and if he’s out there it’s our duty to bring him in. One way or another.’

‘Alice, they’re right.’ Robert pats me heavily on the shoulder. ‘We can’t leave this man on the loose. I mean, think about it. Of course you feel safe now, with all of us around, but imagine if we don’t catch him. Imagine how you’d feel then, in the dark and sleeping alone in your bed. Do you really want to wake up and find this Duval standing over you?’ He looks at me almost entreatingly. ‘Well, do you?’

I go on staring down the path until long after the dust has settled and the noise of engines receded. Jack is surprisingly pliant about bedtime but Emmy decides to stage a protest which quickly escalates into a one-child riot.

‘I’m not tired. I don’t want to go to sleep. I want to stay up till Daddy gets back I want Benjamín I want a biscuit I want Daddy,’ she screams. ‘You’re so mean I hate you. I’m going to rip out my guts I hate you so much.’ And when I move her to my bed to stop her keeping Jack awake, she strikes out at me with her hand, catching me sharply on the side of my face.