He was closer. The tyre iron loose in his right hand.

‘Where’s Dan?’

She looked from his face to his chest. The shape on his T-shirt was shining. She had thought it was a design, but it wasn’t. It was wet. She knew what it was.

‘Will you come with me?’ said Russ, relaxed, as though they were both in on something.

She looked back to his face. There was only his face, nothing else around it, just him.

‘No. I’m waiting here, for the police.’

‘They coming here?’

‘They’ll be here in a minute. They’re coming now. Where’s Dan?’

She looked at the open door. She saw her car. Dan had the keys in his pocket. There was another one in the glove compartment. But the glove compartment was locked, with the small key on Dan’s key ring, in his pocket.

‘Where is he?’

‘Where’s the money Alex told me about?’ said Russ.

‘In the attic.’

‘Yeah?’ He said it as if she’d lie about it.

‘It’s up in the attic. You can have it.’

Russ sighed. ‘Shit. We’d better be quick.’

He turned off her phone and put it in his pocket, taking his eyes off her for a second, but not long enough.

‘What about your car?’ she said.

‘What?’

‘You said it broke down.’

He sort of laughed. ‘Yeah,’ he said, like she was stupid.

‘You first.’ He gestured, gentlemanly, towards the stairs.

She couldn’t move.

‘No.’ Her voice was weak. ‘Where’s Dan?’

‘C’mon. Let’s go.’

She shook her head. ‘You go up,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you where it is.’

He suddenly jumped at her, arms out, the tyre iron flying up towards her head. She ducked and yelped. He stepped back again, smiling. Her eyes were hot with tears, she felt urine, leaking from her. There wasn’t very much of it. He wouldn’t know.

He hadn’t touched her. She closed her mouth and breathed through her nose.

‘All right. I’ll take you up and show you,’ she said. ‘Then tell me where Dan is.’

‘OK, sure,’ he said.

He kicked the front door closed. She waited for the sound of the police car turning into the driveway. They’d see his car, she thought. Russ ran the tyre iron along the banisters as they went up. They passed the bedroom doors.

‘I’ve got to say,’ he said, like a tourist, ‘it’s not much of a hotel. I mean, what the fuck? It’s not like he described at all. When I came the first time, I thought I had the wrong place.’

She pointed to the trapdoor, and the ladder.

‘Up there,’ she said.