He wanted to laugh at the thought that Bailey had believed he was actually interested in her. Maybe once upon a time, back at Hendon, he might have given her a passing glance, but now, with those unsightly scars, and not to mention her annoyingly stubborn attitude, she did nothing but repulse him.

As he padded along in his plastic-bag-covered shoes, he thought about how it had come down to this, having to murder a young child out of necessity. The thing was, he didn’t feel too bad about it. The kid would probably just have grown up into a stupid adult that looked a bit like Frank. And who needed another one of them?

Sure, maybe at one time it might have bothered him. Back when he’d been idealistic. Back when he’d first joined the police. But those days were long gone.

One of the big problems with being in the police, he’d soon realised after signing up, was that the money was shit and it always would be – but then that was the public sector for you. But at the same time he’d also realised that the job itself provided unparalleled opportunities to make cash on the side if you knew how to work it. It was like an illicit bonus scheme.

The only issue was that once you built up a certain kind of lifestyle, you had to be able to maintain it. And he’d developed a taste for it. The cool car. The upscale apartment. The cosmetic surgery. The women… they were the main reason he was doing it. It was amazing the difference a bit of cash made when it came to getting laid. Or at least it did with the types of females that he went for.

It wasn’t like he was so ostentatious with his spending that anyone might suspect anything. No, he kept it all skilfully in check. But even so, all those financial commitments he’d built up over the years had ballooned into considerable debts ever since he’d been deprived of his illegal income from the car theft ring. And he didn’t like being in debt one bit.

That’s why he was so happy about working with the Molloys. Encountering Adrian had been a boon – the chance to get rid of Bailey and the chance to get in with Rick. It had all worked out so well. Better than Dale could ever have expected. A new chapter was beginning. A brand-new influx of cash. Something to pay off his debts. The first thing he’d do would be to help the Molloys shift those guns.

He caught himself. He was getting ahead of himself. First things first. Kill Frank’s kid.

He pushed open the door to the master bedroom, flicked the light on and levelled the gun. The room was silent and empty. Sparsely furnished, it contained just a double bed, a wardrobe, a dresser and a small bookcase. Kneeling down, Dale peered beneath the bed.

Nothing but a few shoeboxes.