He moves up to the side of the house. Peers through the kitchen window. He sees Gant pouring some orange juice into a glass. He drinks. It’s a tall glass and he drinks the whole thing. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down unpleasantly.

Jeremiah comes into the kitchen, says something to Gant that Danny can’t hear. They haven’t found Stephanie, though, and that’s all that matters. Gant folds his arms, taps a long finger against his chin, and before Danny can duck down, Gant’s head swivels and they lock eyes.

Coldness sweeps through Danny’s veins and freezes his heart.

Then Jeremiah goes one way and Gant goes the other and Danny falls away from the window, starts scrambling. He’s been afraid before in his life, but not like this. Never like this. This is real fear, and real fear jolts so much energy through his system that for a moment he forgets to stand, and he just crawls on his hands and knees through the snow. He’s breathing fast. Too fast. Hyperventilating. It occurs to him that running would be better than crawling and he rises like a sprinter from the blocks but awkwardly, his legs shaky. The jolt of energy passes and now he’s tired, he’s sluggish, doesn’t know what the hell is happening because all he wants to do is sit down and curl up, but of course he can’t, he has to get back to his car, he has to get away.

Jeremiah Wallow walks round the corner of the house.

“It’s Danny!” Jeremiah says. He holds a tyre iron in his hand. “Look, Mr Gant, it’s Danny!”

Danny backs away, turns and stumbles, sees Gant walking round the far corner. Danny slips on ice and falls, gets up, throws himself into a run. He ploughs deep furrows into the snow covering the garden. Already his legs are tired, but he can’t rest. He has to make it to the trees. He’s faster than they are. They can’t catch him. He glances back at Jeremiah, sees him plodding in slow pursuit, then glances over at Gant and Gant runs across the snow, barely making a dent, running like an athlete fifty years his junior, and he slams into Danny and Danny goes spinning through the air, goes rolling through the snow towards Jeremiah.

The tyre iron crashes into his shoulder and Danny cries out, twisting on to his back, and Jeremiah swings again and it hits Danny’s leg and this time Danny screams.

“Jeremiah, Jeremiah,” says Gant, like he was scolding him. Jeremiah straightens up, his face a little red from the exertion. Gant stands over Danny and smiles kindly. “Hello, Danny. I’m quite impressed with you, I am forced to admit. You had us fooled. Did he not have us fooled, Jeremiah?”

Jeremiah nods. “Had me fooled.”