He tried to move but his body wouldn’t respond. There was something resting on his shoulder. Someone. Sally. She was taking shallow breaths and her eyes were half-open. “Hey,” she said, “I guess I don’t need to tell you that you probably shouldn’t have come.” She gave a chuckle that turned into a splutter. She spit out a mouthful of blood. Robin looked down to see her arms were wrapped around her midriff—they were covered in blood. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“What happened?” Robin whispered.

“Well, the damnedest thing happened. I got shot and now I’m bleeding to death,” Sally said, somehow making it sound like a minor affliction. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“It was Amber,” Robin said. “Sam saw Amber that day. That’s what Sam meant when she talked to Matthew. A black hound and a horse head. Amber has those symbols, tattoos, on her wrists. Amber’s behind this.”

“Bit late on the newsflash there,” Sally said. “She was the one who shot me. Got any theories about Tim Claypath?”

“No,” Robin said. “How can he be here?”

“I’m just glad you saw him too,” Sally said, taking a rasping breath. “I thought I’d started to see things. Was he riding a pink crocodile for you too?”

“What?” Robin said.

“Joking,” Sally said. “At least have the decency to laugh—I’m dying here.”

As if to cement his existence, there was a sound of footsteps crunching up the tunnel. And Robin looked up to see Tim Claypath towering over them. He was an imposing figure—he felt like a fictional character that had leaped off the page. Because he shouldn’t be here; he couldn’t be here.

“How?” Robin said. “How the hell are you here?”

“That’s really the least interesting question you could be asking right now,” Tim said. “Probably the most relevant would be what is going to happen to you and your little friend here. Although you might not like the answer.”

“Don’t give him the satisfaction,” Sally said.

“What are you going to do?” Robin said anyway.

“Well,” Tim said, crouching down in front of him, “you, Mr. Robin Ferringham, came to Marsden chasing ghosts and monsters and your lovely wife, and just couldn’t bring yourself to fail once again. So you lured Ms. Morgan here out to Standedge, and you horrifically drowned her, before shooting yourself. Really is a nasty business. You must be really messed up in the head to do that.”

“But I’m not going to do any such thing,” Robin said.