Paul’s eye was drawn by a large black car parked at the entrance to his block. Something about its mirrored windows woke his instincts, just when he thought they’d been killed off again. He was almost unsurprised when the door opened and Tom Glover climbed out.

“Hello, you two.” He greeted them with a blank face. “Yvette. Fancy seeing you here.” He threw her a stony, meaningful stare. “Mind if I borrow Paul?”

Yvette looked at Paul. Her eyes flashed concern but he gave a small nod.

“DS Nicholls can give you a lift back to work,” Glover said pointedly, gesturing at the car.

“No,” Yvette said. “I’m fine.”

She glanced once more at Paul before releasing his arm and finally walking away.

—

Paul didn’t want to get into the car with Glover. Instead they walked in slow laps around the outskirts of the hospital grounds, passing smokers in wheelchairs and patients dragging their drips. His former boss was pretending he’d come to check how Paul was doing, but it was clear there was another agenda.

“Why don’t you spit it out, Tom?”

Something complicated crossed Glover’s face. He stared at a pair of doves that had found their way onto the site and were nesting on top of a Hospital Hopper bus stop.

“I’ve smoothed everything over with Nottinghamshire police. It never happened. You were never there.”

Paul stared at him. He didn’t know why he was so shocked. Glover had a talent for erasing things from the record. Paul should have been relieved, he knew. But this felt like one more thing he wouldn’t be held accountable for that would catch up with him one day.

“What the fuck were you playing at?” Glover asked.

“How did you know I was there?” Paul shot back.

“You think I don’t keep tabs on Sanderson even now? And you think I didn’t anticipate you’d go off on a fool’s mission? I didn’t think you’d be quite so foolish as to break into his house and stab him . . . If I’d got there an hour sooner I could’ve prevented it all.”

“You should’ve helped me when I first came to you.”

“For God’s sake, Paul! You know we can’t draw any attention back to that bloody disaster of a case. We’re going to have to buy Sanderson’s silence yet again—”

Paul’s head reared up. “He’s alive?”

“Well, yes. He’s recovering.” Glover jerked his head toward the hospital building. “He’ll stay away from you from now on. And you have to stay away from him. No exceptions.”

Daniel had survived. Paul blinked slowly, taking it in. His throat loosened as though someone had just removed their hands from around his neck.