‘I don’t know exactly. Maybe that hard drive isn’t just a hard drive; maybe it’s a communication device too. Maybe this whole village is still on the grid, switched on even if the phone company don’t know anything about it. The thing is, we can’t remove the hard drive and check, or Mills will know for sure that we’ve found it. But it makes sense. Think about it: once we were done here this morning, once we’d left the village, once – if I’m right – the bugs went into sleep mode again, they, or the hard drive, sent out a second pulse, confirmation that we were gone. Because of that, Mills – who must have been listening in – thought we’d left, so he heads up here to see what else we’ve been up to, to make sure everything’s still in place. But then, a half-mile down the road, we hit a deer.’

‘And we decided to come back.’

‘If there are bugs in the farmhouse, they’d have come to life once we returned here to dress your wound – but, by then, it was too late for Mills to notice as he’d stopped listening to us.’

‘Because he was already driving up here.’

I nodded, looking at him, seeing the sense in it. Right now, Mills was probably still in his car, so he wouldn’t realize we’d found the bugs yet. But if there was more than one person listening in, someone else might.

And then I realized something else.

‘Shit.’

‘What?’ Healy said, seeing my face drop.

‘Shit.’

Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach.

‘What is it, Raker?’

Except, a second later, he got it too, and when he did, it was like he’d been hit by a wrecking ball, his feet slipping on the mud as he stumbled back against the wall, his skin blanched, whatever he was trying to say lost on his tongue. He looked at me.

‘What the fuck are we going to do now?’ he shouted.

At the farmhouse, Healy talked about living in Devon. He’d talked about hiding out down there, in secret. But worse than both of those was what I’d said: that he was supposed to be dead – and if he didn’t hide from Mills, we were both going to prison.

And we couldn’t deny any of it.

We couldn’t hide from what we’d said.

Because everything was on tape.

19

‘I never used your name,’ I said, trying to sound in control.

‘He’s got us on tape, Raker.’

‘I know, but I never used your name,’ I repeated, more firmly this time. And that was true, I didn’t: I’d talked about his death being faked, but I’d never used his name.

‘So – what? – everything’s all right now?’

‘No, I’m not saying that. Just …’

‘Just what? Calm down?’

‘Just give me a moment to think.’