“I just keep seeing it. Frank Harper, I mean. The way it knocked him back. How he was trying to crawl away.”

“Yeah,” Ellie said again, recalling Keira’s last seconds – for all she’d loathed the girl in life, it was hard to keep it up when you saw someone dying. Even if they had died trying to shoot you with an empty gun. She kept seeing Keira’s face: half her head all blood and bone and exposed brain. Ellie felt a moment’s sickness; then it passed and she thought Good riddance to the bitch, before feeling sick again at having done so. She wasn’t sure if she was being callous or honest, lacked something or was merely human. Feel guilty on your own time, Ellie. There’s stuff to do now.

Except that she wasn’t sure what. Things had moved on, and left her at a loose end. She felt more tired than she’d been in months. “I’m gonna go upstairs,” she said. “Crash out for a few minutes.”

Noel nodded. Ellie felt guilty, as though she should say something more to him. You’re a copper, not a social worker, she thought, and smiled to herself at the cliché.

“What’s so funny?”

What had been? Already she’d forgotten. She was so tired. “I don’t know. Anyway. If anyone’s after me –”

“You’ll be upstairs.”

“Yeah.”

Ellie turned to go.

Screams and shouts from outside, and then an engine roared.

Liz woke with a sudden shocked wheeze, as if from a nightmare. Probably had. Just couldn’t remember it. That was how it went, most of the time.

She was in agony, but her head was clear. She’d always woken quickly: fast asleep one moment, awake and alert the next. No foggy middle ground, and a good thing too.

She was under a musty-smelling plastic sheet, with Keira slumped against her. Stupid sods hadn’t even made sure she was dead. Then again, she was practically swimming in blood: she could feel it, hot and horribly sticky under the shredded stab vest, soaking her trousers. Her upper left arm and her right thigh throbbed.

But she was alive under the plastic sheet, and Keira was dead, her head half-gone.

Boys?

She could hear voices nearby. Not Frank’s, or Paul’s. Maybe they’d got the Bible and fucked off; seen Liz and thought her dead. If so she’d have words when she got back to the farm, and with Paul especially – it’d have been his idea.

But Frank, Frank would’ve checked. Nothing would’ve stopped him making sure. So why hadn’t he?

Cold dread fingered her belly.

“Pete’s sake, Laura, just lie down.”

“I’m fine.”