Jamie Evans was big for his age. Richard had used that to his advantage: the boy’s larger size had made it a tighter fit in the footwell behind the passenger seat. The restraints were tied round both his wrists and pulled tight to the mounting of the seat itself to force the boy forward with his head between his splayed knees and against the seatback. This meant he was out of sight of anyone driving alongside him and, if he decided to shout for help, it would largely be absorbed by the thick seat material. It was a fine line between an effective restraint and restrictive to his breathing, but this wasn’t the first time Richard had needed to transport a prisoner in a car with just a cut-up seatbelt to work with. It was the first time it had been a twelve-year-old boy, though.

The man had been very clear – this boy, or his grandson. He had been clear with his instructions; he knew the boy’s movements, that he walked the dog every morning, and where. The man was still demonstrating his ability to plan, to control every element. But he had made a mistake sending Richard to get something he wanted. He had made a mistake giving him time to think. And now Richard might be able to take some of that control back.

His palm was slippery with moisture against the butt of the shotgun that was on the passenger seat. It was a beautiful piece too, with dark, polished wood seamlessly merging into dark grey steel like it was all milled from the same piece. It was a Browning, of course. Glenn had been sure to point that out when he had first taken it from where it was concealed in a locked case in his kitchen cupboard to show his old friend. Richard could still remember his feeling of surprise. Since leaving the army, Richard had shied away from firearms – he had seen enough of guns and more significantly what they could do. He couldn’t understand why anyone would want to use one as part of their leisure time. As ever, Glenn had made a joke to explain himself: Yeah, but what about all the clay pigeons just left alone to breed how they want? Someone’s got to keep their numbers down or we’ll be riddled with them!

Then he’d laughed that big laugh with his head back and his belly shaking. And Richard had been as powerless as always to stop himself from joining in.

But now laughter was the furthest thing from his mind.