The inspector took off after him, cursing.

‘Let her go!’ Ray roared, causing Lane to freeze on the spot. He turned as the detective rushed closer, slowly raising the gun in his left hand to the side of Laura’s head.

Ray froze just as Tom arrived beside him. Both detectives pointed their weapons.

Now they had a proper stand-off.

‘You found me,’ Lane said and almost sounded relieved. His voice was soft, not threatening. ‘I was beginning to think you never would.’

‘We did,’ the inspector said.

Laura was gagged, her eyes wide with anguish and terror. Tom couldn’t see any obvious injuries, but they knew Lane had hit her somewhere, probably the back of the head, to knock her out. Her body slouched over, exhausted from the struggle. The inspector could feel the anger radiating from Ray and willed him to keep it together.

‘This can’t end well for any of us with everybody waving their weapons,’ Tom said. ‘It’s all over now, Charlie. Time to let her go.’

‘I don’t want it to end well for me,’ Lane snapped, his voice suddenly furious. ‘Haven’t you figured that out yet? I’m sick. I want it all to be over.’

‘Then let her go,’ Tom said. ‘We can end this.’

‘No. If I don’t have her, you’ll just arrest me. And I’ll have to live with what I’ve done for the rest of my life. I don’t want to be this monster. I never wanted to be like this. I want you to shoot me.’

‘I can’t do that while you’re holding my detective,’ Tom almost shouted.

‘Then I’ll shoot her.’

‘No!’

Both Tom and Ray yelled as Lane cocked his weapon. Laura’s eyes filled with dread.

‘If you hurt her, I won’t kill you,’ Tom growled. ‘I’ll shoot you so you’re incapacitated and then I’ll arrest you. I swear, if you harm another hair on that girl’s head, I will make it my business to ensure your life is hell.’

‘I’m already in hell,’ Lane roared.

The inspector cast a sideways glance at his deputy. He seemed to be having some sort of silent exchange with Laura. If they could just get her to duck or move in some way, the detective might have a shot. He needed to keep Lane talking, keep him distracted.

‘Don’t you want to know how we figured out it was you?’ Tom asked, his brain racing. ‘You rang Carney, didn’t you, when we went in to Fergus’ office that day? You wanted us to think it was him and you knew he’d react violently. If you’d wanted to die so badly, why did you get us out of there that day when he started shooting?’