‘If you want Detective De Corrado to make it to the end of the day, you’d best come inside, dear,’ said Ivy. ‘Both of you. C’mon now, and don’t get blood on anything.’

De Corrado? ‘What have you done with her?’ said Ahab.

Now Mackenzie approached her, with a heavy limp and a dark expression. With his eye swollen shut, he made a grim picture. ‘Hello, Ivy.’

‘Wait, Mack!’ said Ahab, following behind. ‘We can’t just walk into her house —’

‘Come in. Take a seat. Lunch is nearly ready.’

Mackenzie walked in first. Ahab followed behind, searching for a weapon.

There, in the wide open living area of Ivy’s house, was the massive driftwood table, with two people already sitting there.

Bound by zip ties to a dining chair was Detective De Corrado. Her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot, and fear and fury were clear on her face. She caught Ahab’s eyes.

‘The whole family is here,’ she croaked. ‘Beautiful.’

‘Yes, just a happy little family, all together at last.’ Ivy moved to stand behind her, holding the knife to her exposed throat. ‘Let’s all sit down, shall we?’

Beside De Corrado sat Davey, kneading his temples. There were deep lines beneath his eyes, and he kept pulling at his chapped lips. Was he being held against his will too?

‘Have you heard the news, Davey?’ said Ahab.

Davey winced at the sound of his voice. He didn’t look up. ‘What news?’ he mumbled.

‘Sit down,’ spat Ivy.

Mack sat across from Davey. He didn’t take his eyes off Ivy.

Ahab sat, too, right beside De Corrado, steadying himself against the table as he pulled the chair out. He trusted Ivy would take a seat as well. That would even the playing field – he was more nimble than her, and once she sat, he could leap across the table to grab her knife.

Or . . . the dining table, in a macabre tableau, was set for family lunch, with silverware and a flower arrangement and glasses of red wine. A roast chicken sat in the centre. Loaves of bread, a bowl of butter, steaming vegetables . . . and sharp cutlery. He managed to slip a knife into his hand as he steadied himself on the table.

‘Now, dears, I’m so pleased you were able to make it to my victory feast,’ said Ivy to the group, as she took her place at the head of the setting. She pulled a shotgun out from under the table, ruining Ahab’s plans, and let it rest on the table. ‘Let’s eat, as a family, shall we? Plus guest.’ She set the carving knife down within easy reach and raised a wineglass in toast to De Corrado, her other hand on the shotgun.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Ahab evenly to the detective. ‘It’s going to be okay.’ Under the table, he’d already begun sawing at the zip ties that bound her arms.