In the distance she hears sirens. Her head is spinning. Through her blurred vision she sees a line of twinkling blue lights speed toward her.

She hears her name being called.

‘Grace! Wait!’

She recognises that voice. That accent.

‘Get an ambulance now!’ he barks to someone.

He is close by.

‘Grace. It’s me, Harry.’

She stops.

She feels the warmth of his jacket as he puts it around her shoulders. An Indian female officer arrives. She recognises her. Neha.

‘Let me take him,’ she says kindly.

Archer nods and lets her take the boy.

Chapter 52

52

THE FIRST AMBULANCE ARRIVES FOR Jordan, whose condition is critical after losing consciousness. Archer feels numb and helpless as she watches the paramedics skilfully treat him and make him comfortable before whisking him away.

Please let him get through this. Please.

PC Neha Rei’s police radio crackles with Quinn’s voice. ‘We have Blackwell. He’s losing a lot of blood. Where’s that friggin’ ambulance!’

Archer turns to Neha. ‘Take me there.’

‘But, ma’am, shouldn’t you wait for the medics?’

‘Let’s go,’ replies Archer as she climbs into the passenger seat.

Rei pulls up behind a bank of police vehicles and an ambulance parked outside Jamie’s house. Archer stares at the glass box and feels her stomach twist.

‘Ma’am, are you OK?’

Archer steps out into the cold afternoon air. ‘I’m fine.’ She wants to see him. She wants to see his face and make sure he is still alive. Death is a liberation he doesn’t deserve.

She sees him being wheeled on a stretcher through the front entrance, his face pale, his unnerving red eyes searching the line of police officers.

He is looking for her.

When he finds her, he holds her gaze with a perplexed expression. Archer feels a furnace roar inside.

‘You did it,’ says Quinn.

Archer hasn’t realised Quinn is by her side. She feels the furnace fade.

‘We did it,’ she replies.

The wail of the third ambulance’s siren interrupts their exchange.

‘Ma’am,’ calls Neha.

‘Your carriage awaits you,’ says Quinn. ‘I’ll come by and see you later.’

Quinn steps toward the killer. ‘You and I are going on a wee trip to the hospital, Mr Blackwell, aka the artist formerly known as @nonymous . . . oh and what is with that name? With that so-called “artistic talent” you could have at least come up with a name that wasn’t so . . . I don’t know . . . pedestrian!’

Jamie turns away and ignores Quinn.

The Irishman climbs in after the paramedics and handcuffs Jamie to the rail. ‘Now, no funny business from you, Leonardo. If you behave yourself I’ll ask the nice ambulance lady if she has some crayons and paper for you to draw some pretty pictures. Would you like that?’

The doors slam on the ambulance and it leaves with the siren screaming.

*