It was a moment of pure savage pleasure fired straight from the base of his brain. He hadn’t done this in years but his muscles leapt at the chance to relive old glories. Finn struggled, a reflex action driven by instinct, not thought. Would he fight until his strength gave out, or accept the battle was already lost? After a moment, Donald felt Finn go quiet and still. Now there was just the sound of their breathing, and the tick of the engine as it cooled.

“That was quite clever,” said Donald. “Taking down the beach hut so the Welfare Officer couldn’t assess you. It must have taken a lot of work. Did it take a lot of work?”

“A reasonable amount, yes,” said Finn, around Donald’s fingers. He sounded scared but calm.

“And now they’ve closed the case,” said Donald. “Of course, I could go down and report you again. But it’s taken weeks to get this far. By the time they get around to you, it could be your time to move on anyway. And since you cleaned everything up so nicely, they might just write me off as a nutcase with a bee in my bonnet.” His tone was confiding, fatherly. “Not that I have an actual bonnet. I’m speaking metaphorically. You do know what I mean by metaphorically, don’t you?”

“Pretty clear on that one.”

“You have made one mistake, though,” said Donald.

“It certainly looks that way,” Finn agreed.

No, Donald commanded his hands, which were eager to fold around Finn’s throat.

“You see,” said Donald, “you haven’t understood who you’re dealing with. You think I’m just your average retired copper. Maybe not the very brightest, maybe a little bit too hung up on the rules, but a grafter. A decent chap. You think because you beat me using the rules, that means you’re safe, and you can forget me and enjoy your winter.” His right hand was slipping from his control, inching down towards the spot where Finn’s carotid artery fluttered like the heart of a hummingbird, the only outward sign of his fear. “But the truth is, mate – that whole decent-chap act I put on every day – that’s not me. The truth is that I’m a very, very bad man.”

A pause, to give his message time to sink in. Donald counted the time by the ticking of the engine, and used it to force his fingers to obey.

“So,” said Donald, when he had counted nine ticks and watched Finn attempt to swallow, “do you think we understand each other?”

“I’d say so, yes,” said Finn, his voice cracking on the last syllable.

“Good. Because now I’m going to tell you what I know about you. I know you’re not much of a man. I know you’re happy to live off other people. I know you’ve got a past you’re not proud of.” Actually he hadn’t known that for sure until he felt Finn flinch as he said the words. “I know you’ve been hanging around my daughter. My beautiful, vulnerable fifteen-year-old daughter.”