She thought through her escape. It would be maybe ten or twenty minutes before the police got to the cottage. Then another few minutes before they understood what was going on. Which meant she had, at forty or so miles an hour, about ten or fifteen miles’ distance she could put between her and them.

Quite a radius.

She would head west, to the port towns of Whitehaven and Workington, then north to Carlisle. There were plenty of cars and people there, and plenty of places to hide.

And then, she could start again.

Start everything again.

Roland

He undressed Jo and wrapped her in a towel. She was unhappy, mewling and crying – maybe she was hungry, although she’d have to wait, as he had no idea how to feed her – but she was safe.

He held her to his chest and ran down the lawn to Tom.

He was still in the boat, passed out. Roland had seen two of his friends, if friends was the right word, die from overdoses, and he knew what an overdose looked like.

And Tom was in a similar state to them, his skin sallow and his lips tinged with blue. Roland felt for a pulse again.

It was weaker.

How much had she given him? Tom had never taken heroin before and his tolerance would be low. Even a small amount could be fatal. At the very least it could make him vomit and he would, in the position he was in, likely choke.

Roland sat Joanna on the grass and turned Tom onto his side. It was ironic: him, of all people, helping his brother into the recovery position.

He heard the sound of an engine approaching. A car door closed, then another, and he heard a man’s voice call out.

‘Down here,’ he shouted. ‘Come in the side gate.’

Two paramedics – a man and a woman – appeared at the side of the house and walked down to meet him.

‘What’s going on?’ the woman said.

He pointed at Tom, sprawled in the boat. ‘He’s taken heroin. Well, someone injected him, but either way, he needs help. I don’t think he’s OD’d yet, but he’s close.’ He held out his forearm to show them the scars. ‘I’ve had a bit of experience of this kind of thing.’

‘Right,’ the woman said. She looked at Joanna. ‘The baby?’

‘I rescued her from the lake,’ Roland said. ‘She was cold, but I think she’s OK for now. She might be hungry. I have no idea what to do with babies.’

‘I take it the baby is not your child?’ the woman said.

‘No. Her dad’s in the boat. The heroin guy.’

The woman frowned. ‘What the hell is going on here?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Roland said. ‘I don’t know all of it myself.’

DI Wynne

Wynne cut the call.