Danny laid the folder back flat on the chair, his movements deliberate and slow. He peered around again, then held his breath for as long as he could. He wanted to stop for a moment, to think, but also to listen, to be sure that he was alone. They had never worked out where Callie had got the concoction of drugs from. There’s legislation to prevent the sale of Paracetamol in toxic amounts – a fifteen-year-old shouldn’t be able to buy a single one. The police had still done enquiries anywhere she could have got them from. The doctors had been able to reverse the affects of the painkillers but the Paracetamol caused an acute liver injury which meant she had needed to be kept unconscious. The ventilator keeping her alive had then caused pneumonia in her lungs and they’d nearly lost her. He’d nearly lost her. And he still might.

Now all he could hear was the man opposite, his breathing heavy and erratic. He was sucking in shallow breaths like he was panicking. They fuelled another sound from his throat, a moan perhaps, whatever he could manage.

‘You need to be QUIET!’ Shouting, Danny found himself standing straighter; the ferocity ripped at his throat, freeing up some fluid that he had to spit out. It moved him forward too, closer to Marcus Olsen. He waited, forcing the man to lock eyes with him, which he did but just for a moment. Then the man’s eyes angled down and Danny followed their trajectory to see where he was looking. He felt his face twist into a wide smile.

‘Didn’t even know I’d done that.’ Marcus Olsen was staring at the shotgun, specifically where Danny’s right index finger now rested against the trigger while his left hand had taken hold of the stubby barrel close to where it met his lips, like he might be holding it steady. He focused on the feeling of the trigger against his finger. It had some slack in it. He pulled it back until there was resistance. Suddenly he felt good; powerful. This man was at his mercy. Exactly as he should be.

‘Shall we see if there’s anything else in there? Maybe there’s another page explaining how this was all a terrible mistake after all!’ Danny used his left hand to scoop it back up. The next page was a different format. It was made up of screenshots from typed conversations involving his daughter. Callie’s words were labelled with her name this time, and every time he read it he felt himself grimace. He had to step back and straighten up to be able to breathe, letting go of the weapon in the process.