The door was flung open, and there she was. He didn’t even have time to speak. Angel O’Brien hurled herself into his arms. He stood there, rigid with surprise – and then he realized that she was covered in blood.

‘What’s happened?’ Lenny surged forward. ‘What the hell’s going on?’

Had someone attacked her? He heard voices downstairs and pushed her back, into the flat. Whatever was going down, they didn’t want witnesses.

‘Where are you hurt?’ he asked. ‘Who’s done this?’ His eyes were zipping around the flat’s drab interior, looking for the trouble that must surely at any minute burst out and come at him.

‘It’s not mine,’ Angel managed to get out. ‘It’s . . .’ She couldn’t say it. She was pointing across the room, toward a closed door.

She looked white and fearful, but there was something else in her eyes besides that – a glint of steely determination.

‘What happened?’ he asked her. He put a hand on her shoulder. It came away bloody. He lowered his voice, trying to reassure her. ‘It’s all right. You’re safe now. Tell me what’s happened.’

She shook her head. Her eyes were fixed on the door across the room. ‘I can’t . . . I can’t go back in there.’

‘You won’t have to. Who’s in there? Who is it?’

‘He’s dead,’ said Angel. ‘He’s dead,’ she said again.

‘Who is?’

‘Donny Maguire,’ said Angel. ‘He’s a policeman.’

Oh holy shit.

Lenny took a couple of strides away from her, turned, walked back. Shook his head. Then he said: ‘You did it?’

Angel was nodding.

Christ! She’d killed a copper. Lenny dragged a hand through his hair.

‘You’re sure he’s dead?’

She nodded again.

‘Who else knows he’s here?’

Angel swiped a hand across her eyes, leaving a trail of blood on both cheeks. She was shuddering, but her expression was calm. ‘Nobody,’ she said.

‘You’re sure?’

She nodded.

Lenny turned back toward the front door. ‘I have to go out.’

‘No . . .’ Angel’s eyes were suddenly wide with panic. She grabbed at his arm. ‘Don’t leave me!’

‘I have to make a call,’ said Lenny, patting her hand, gently detaching it from his coat. ‘I’m going to the box on the corner, OK? We can get some help.’

‘You won’t come back.’

‘That’s not true. I will,’ said Lenny, and was astonished at himself because he realized he was telling her the truth. He was coming back. He couldn’t leave her in this mess.

But, mate, she’s killed a copper, said his brain.

Yeah, but she must have had reason.

Really? that voice came back at him. Or maybe she’s just a fruit loop, maybe she’s crazy and seriously, do you want a crazy person in your life? Why not walk out of here right now and keep right on going? Wouldn’t that make more sense?

It would make more sense. The perfect solution to this shit storm was to wash his hands of the whole damned thing and forget about Angel O’Brien. But . . . he couldn’t do it. He felt the weirdest urge, one he’d never felt before: he had to protect her.