It was only thirty seconds later, once she was in Howard Smallwood’s kitchen, that she heard the cocking of a gun.

57

‘Down on your knees. No sudden moves, alright?’ Smallwood said, his voice almost a whisper. He was trying to sound calm, but Caroline could tell he was shitting bricks. That wasn’t ideal — not when he had a gun in his hand.

‘What’s this all about, Howard? Why the gun?’

‘Why not?’

‘Because it doesn’t fit. The clues. The little remarks. You wanted us to find you, didn’t you?’

‘I wondered if you would. It doesn’t mean I wanted you to, though.’

‘So what was it? Was it the challenge? The thrill of the chase?’ Caroline knew that as long as she kept him talking, she’d be delaying things, giving the firearms officers more time to get to Oakham from Leicester. She didn’t want to die. Not here. Not now.

‘If you like.’

No, no, keep talking. Keep talking.

‘Did you break into my house tonight?’

‘Why, did you think it might’ve been a particularly keen tourist information manager?’

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the clock on the front of Smallwood’s oven. She was acutely aware she had to fill a lot of time if she was going to stand a chance of getting out of here alive.

‘You used to live in the Hambletons, didn’t you?’

‘That’s no secret. I’m amazed it took you as long as it did to find out.’

‘I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to have gone through that, at that age. Losing your home. Being moved from the place you knew and loved, all because someone else told you to.’

‘That cottage was my grandmother’s. She was born there. So was my mum. It was ours. No-one else’s.’

‘I know. Things… things that happen at that age stick with you.’

‘Don’t try to psychoanalyse me. You won’t manage it, trust me.’

‘I’m not. Honestly, I’m not. What I’m saying is you and I probably aren’t as different as you might think.’

‘Oh, so now you want to be my friend. Now you’re kneeling on my kitchen floor with a gun to your head.’