A swift swing and a firm blow were delivered with the fattest part of a baseball bat. It clipped the lowest point of the chin, sought to maximise the shaking of the brain in the skull. Separated from his senses, Fyfe’s eyes rolled back into his head. Losing consciousness, he crashed to the floor. The liberated gun landed easily at the feet of its rightful owner.

Kerr was suddenly hyperventilating. The surging adrenaline had caused her body to visibly pulse. Her words came out staccato, in broken pieces.

‘Two cars… out front… doors open… knew there was trouble. I keep a bat in my boot for emergencies, and sometimes for everyday errands, when the men of Cobb try to express their undying love for me.’

Manolis struggled to find his own air to breathe. ‘Jesus. Sweet Jesus Christ. How much of that did you catch?’

She fell onto the sofa, clutching her chest. ‘Enough.’ She had station keys, of course, one of only two other people.

They went quiet a while, watching Fyfe’s unmoving body, collapsed onto itself in an awkward origami.

‘Dear God,’ Manolis said. ‘Thank you.’

She looked at him. ‘No rest for the wicked. Next stop, the detention centre.’

He met her gaze. ‘Indeed. Omari’s still in solitary. But it’s not just him who needs us now.’

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

THEY DRAGGED THE senior sergeant’s comatose body to the drunk tank, each pulling on a flabby arm until his underpants crept down. Manolis tugged them back up again, stretched him out flat across the floor. Ducking into the equipment room, Manolis helped himself to two pairs of handcuffs. Kerr locked the door with an old iron key, added a bicycle U-lock around the metal bars.

‘He’ll rejoin the land of the living soon,’ Manolis said. ‘I’ll pick him up some aspirin.’

Kerr secured the station. She was to drive north to the detention centre while Manolis went west. The detective felt torn. But he needed to get back to the tourist park and prayed he would find it just as he’d left it.

‘You don’t need me to come as backup?’ Kerr asked.

He considered it a moment, his eyebrows forming a tight chevron. ‘Best you get to the centre. We need someone reliable there, trustworthy, to release Omari. I’ll be fine.’ He turned to leave. ‘Just one more thing – and this may sound crazy – but has there ever been any report of a stoning in Cobb before Molly Abbott?’

Kerr looked at him blankly, her head tilting to one side.

‘No,’ she finally said. ‘Not to my knowledge, neither as a cop nor as a lifelong resident. What makes you ask?’

He swallowed hard. ‘Nothing. Just a theory.’

They drove in opposite directions, peeling away at dangerous speeds, skidding and fishtailing, competing engines revving into the distance.