“Then why are you here?” Aster wasn’t being sarcastic. She wanted to know.

Marco laughed but it lacked humor. “Same reason as you. It’s impossible to refuse Bailey when he wants something.” A sideways glance. “In his world, you’re either with him or against him.”

She swallowed, trying to clear her throat, which was closing up with anxiety. A breeze was picking up. She could smell the sea. The sickly sweetness of a plant she didn’t recognize. Most of the houses were in darkness, one or two had security lights that spotlit the four of them as they passed by on the pavement. It made Aster think of those old films her father enjoyed, of criminals snared in helicopter search lights.

“Let’s walk in the middle of the road,” said Bailey.

* * *

Trefor Lovell’s house was at the end of The Avenue and surrounded by police tape. A patrol car was parked by the curb, but of the two officers inside, one had his eyes closed and the other was glued to the screen of his phone.

This was not what Bailey had been expecting.

“Back up,” he hissed to the others, and they pressed themselves into the high hedge of the house next door.

Marco and Aster started to walk back up the road. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Bailey’s voice jerked them back, like fish on a hook. They clustered together, hidden from the police car by a bend in the road.

“Let’s cut and run,” said Marco, not quite meeting Bailey’s eye. “It’s way too risky.”

“What’s wrong with a little risk?” said Bailey with a grin.

“You can’t be serious,” said Marco, meeting his gaze head-on this time. “The police are sitting right there.”

“So what?” said Charlie, standing next to Bailey, choosing his side. “Makes it more interesting.”

“No,” said Marco. “No fucking way.”

“Don’t be a pussy,” said Bailey. He pointed to Aster. “You’re more of a pussy than she is, and she’s a girl.” He held out his hand, beckoned with his fingers. “Come on, Aster.”

Aster wanted to ignore him. To tell him he had no right to order her around. To turn her back on him and walk away. Marco was right. It was time to go home. But her instincts warned her that Bailey could get ugly. And she didn’t know how far he would go.

“Why don’t we come back tomorrow night?” she said, buying time with a compromise, already plotting her excuses.

“Let’s just get on with it,” said Charlie. “All of us agreed to this. Let’s not pussy out now.”

He shoved Marco back toward the house, and the boy, who was slighter and a couple of inches smaller, lost his balance and stumbled. Aster waited for him to push back, to insist on leaving, but his head was bowed and he didn’t speak.