Yeah, it’s a dig, but she’s going for the cover story. It’s a good story because it happens to be mostly true. The only detail she has to omit is the bald Irish one. I can see her eyes lose focus as she imagines how it would play out back in the precinct. There is a way out.

Then Deacon’s phone beeps and she rolls into a crouch, instantly alert. I see the curve of her spine shining like a samurai sword.

She shakes her trousers until a phone falls out, and checks the text message. Her posture was pretty tense, but now it cranks up another few notches. Tendons stand out like piano wire behind her knees.

Not good news.

Deacon bends low, snagging the Sig with her trigger finger. ‘You’re a knife man, right, McEvoy? That’s what it said in your file.’

I don’t like the sound of this. What’s the word?

Ominous? suggests Zeb.

Yeah, thanks.

‘So what? I’m a rifle man too, you probably worked that out.’

‘I figured that one,’ says Deacon, twirling the pistol. ‘But now I got this message from the County Coroner’s office telling me that Connie DeLyne was killed with a blade.’

I sit up pretty quick, wishing I had some pants on. At this point I’d settle for a napkin to cover myself. ‘It’s barely dawn; what kind of coroner works this early?’

‘One who owes me. So what about this blade?’

‘That was a bullet hole. What kind of knife makes a hole like that?’

‘You tell me, knife man.’

Deacon looms over me, tapping the barrel against her thigh, and I feel bald and naked, which I am. Twice a week I suffer nightmares that look pretty much exactly like this. It occurs to me that Simon Moriarty’s number is still in my wallet. I really need to call that guy.

‘Come on, Deacon. I saved your life. I put you on to Faber.’

‘It’s you-you-you,’ says Deacon, levelling the weapon. ‘Whatever happens, Daniel McEvoy is involved. There is definitely some shit you are not telling me.’

I feel myself shrink. ‘You want to aim that gun somewhere less sensitive? My heart maybe.’

‘No. I think I’m aiming at the right spot.’

‘Think about it, Deacon. We’re in this together. You need me to back up your story.’

Deacon closes her eyes for half a second. ‘I do need you, but I need time to get my ducks in the goddamn basket or whatever. I gotta talk to a few people, weigh up my options. The Goran situation needs to be wrapped up right before I turn myself in.’

‘That’s all good. You’re making perfect sense. We need to find the connection between Faber and Goran.’

‘There’s no we,’ says Deacon. ‘Just me.’

Zeb sniggers. No we. See how that feels.