What had been looted all those years ago had surely been replaced three times over. There was vegan, gluten-free, sugar-free, completely free of colourings. Half-cal, low-cal, no-cal and finally All-cal, Go Treat Yourself, Extra Maple Syrup Sugar Pops. Peter drew a deep breath and quietly nodded to the chubby little chipmunk. Enough.

He made his way along the back of the store, passing among the cooler cabinets full of beer and soda, checking each aisle in turn. What if Cooper didn’t want to talk to him? Perhaps he should’ve run out after him last night. Maybe that was the only reason he didn’t look back. He was testing him and Peter had failed.

Peter cleared the back of aisle three, passing rows of tinned mullet, but there was still no sign of Cooper. Perhaps he hadn’t even checked in for work this morning. He’d probably been up all night with Becky. That girl knew how to drink and now she had a drinking buddy and a place to find the stuff. Maybe they’d found a station wagon somewhere and driven it up into the hills where they sat on the hood popping beer cans off a fence all night long the way his dad always described in movies. Or perhaps it was none of those things. They were just indoors somewhere they couldn’t be overheard, talking about what to do next now the Ghost Ranger was on to them.

Peter ran his hand across the back of his neck to catch a bead of sweat before it could drip any further and considered taking a bottle of Budweiser from one of the cabinets to cool himself. But it was only now he realized that the store had gone quiet. He hadn’t really taken much notice of the squeak of the shopping trolleys as their wheels turned a corner, or the clatter of baskets being stacked down by the main entrance until they weren’t there any more, but the silence they left behind was powerful enough to make you stop and listen. Storm clouds hanging over the parking lot were reflected in the glass-fronted doors to the cooler cabinets. Peter watched them pass behind his own reflection and the store darkened further. The cardboard stars dangling over the cash registers suddenly drifted sideways as if pulled by an invisible hand. They swung back into place and fell still again. A draught was coming from the front doors, no doubt. But something heavier than a passing wind hung over the store. He pressed his fingertips against the cabinet. The glass was shivering. The beer bottles started to jostle and clink. Peter turned round, looking down the length of the aisle at the snow driving into the store’s front window. A moment later it came.