Deacon does not avert her eyes. ‘I think maybe a lot of it is your fault, Dan. But I don’t know how.’

A siren sounds in the distance. Coming closer.

‘Finally, a concerned citizen,’ says Deacon. ‘I was starting to believe that there weren’t any left.’

Bad timing, I haven’t had time to drill a story into her.

‘Listen, Ronelle. We have shady circumstances here. Very dubious. You have to tell Internal Affairs something they want to hear or both of us will be taking a trip to State.’

Deacon’s brow furrows, cracking the ice on there. ‘I gotta tell the truth, Dan. There’s no other way. I’m still police.’

‘There are bullets from your gun in your partner. Who’s to say that you’re not the bent detective and Goran died trying to take you down? At the very least your career is over for not calling this in last night. At most you get nailed for murder one.’

It makes sense, but will Deacon see it in time? That siren is awfully close.

‘What do you suggest?’

Thank Christ.

‘You got an anonymous tip about Faber on the DeLyne murder, which is true. You came over to find a drug deal in progress. They got the jump on you, shot your partner and locked you in the freezer. You got out and made them pay for shooting a cop.‘

Deacon’s eyebrows go up and snow flutters down her cheeks. ‘What? All of them?’

‘Hey. You’re Ronelle Deacon. You were pissed. I’d believe it.’

Deacon wrings her fingers, getting the blood flowing. ‘Okay, lemme think.’ She wrings for another second. ‘Right, that’s the stupidest bucket-of-pigshit plan that I ever heard. You know how long it’s gonna take IA to tear that into confetti? What? You hate me, McEvoy. Is that it?’

‘Hey, take it easy, Ronelle. I got feelings.’

‘So, Officer Deacon, you bust out of a freezer in your French under things, unarmed, and kill like a hundred guys. Jesus Christ.’

The sirens are closer; I think I hear tyres squealing. ‘It sounded better when I said it. You’re using mocking voices and stuff.’

While she’s thinking, Ronelle paws at an automatic in the sink, picking it up with fingers that are still white.

‘That’s probably loaded, Ronnie. Just so you know.’

She twists her frozen finger around the stock. ‘Loaded. Okay. Christ, I hope my spazzy fingers don’t accidentally shoot someone.’

I swallow drily. ‘Okay. Funny. Now I got to get going.’

The automatic is pointed roughly at my groin. ‘I’m supposed to let you walk?’

I try to look earnest and good. ‘Come on, Deacon. I’m just a complication. If I disappear, all is right in the world.’