‘Send the message, Nathan,’ Bowman orders. ‘We’ve only got about thirty minutes till I’m supposed to arrive here.’

Nathan fetches Oli’s phone from the sofa and awkwardly types a message with his gloved hand. ‘What else do you need?’ he asks, throwing the phone to Bowman.

‘Her over here.’ Bowman points to the floor in front of him.

Nathan grabs Oli’s coat and pulls her roughly along the floor, closer to the wall. Pieces of broken porcelain pierce her hands. ‘Here?’ he asks Bowman.

‘Yep.’

‘Do I need to stand anywhere in particular?’

‘You were here earlier this week, right?’ Bowman replies.

Nathan nods. ‘Twice.’

‘Just avoid the blood, then. You’ve sent all the texts?’

‘Yep. All sorted.’

‘You should go. I’ll sort this out. Leave the gun and head home, have a shower. Watch a movie.’

‘Right.’ Nathan looks at Oli then briefly at Dean. ‘Right then.’

Oli rocks up onto her knees. Dean lifts his head but it falls back against the wall with a thud.

Nathan stares at him.

‘Go.’ Bowman flicks his head at the door. ‘Get out of here.’

After placing the gun on the floor with his gloved hand, Nathan nods politely at Oli and leaves.

‘You’re a piece of shit,’ Dean says weakly.

‘Shut up,’ growls Bowman. ‘Now listen. You two have a terrible relationship.’ He turns to Oli. ‘I know you thought Dean was involved in Isabelle’s death and, conveniently, my boy Bouris is going to corroborate this. He’s very obedient—especially after my little reminder yesterday.’

Through his pain, Dean looks at Bowman with pure hatred.

‘I also had a good chat with your boss this morning. I filled her in on your fragile mental state and your theories about your fiancé. We’re both quite worried about you.’

‘You spoke to Dawn?’ Oli whispers, tilting herself backwards. The button is now only a few centimetres from her head. She hopes she is blocking it from Bowman’s view.

He ignores her but says, ‘She knows you’ve been spinning further and further into a manic episode, wrongly identifying a young girl as a missing toddler. Clearly you are grieving for your murdered colleague. You even hired a car because you were so scared of your fiancé following you. Classic paranoia.’

‘Evie is Louise Carter, isn’t she? Isn’t she?!’ Oli cries out, throwing her head against the wall. The button digs into her scalp. She feels it depress. A soft click. Please, please.

‘Louise Carter is dead.’ Bowman sneers. ‘Everyone except you thinks so, and you’re crazy.’

‘How are you going to hide the truth from her family?’

He shrugs, trains the gun on Dean, and looks back and forth at the distance between them. ‘Easy enough to misplace test results. Honestly, forensics has made everyone so lazy.’