He grabbed the edge of the garage door and pulled upwards, trying to force it far enough so they could at least see inside the car. Imogen grabbed the other side and pulled with him. The mechanism groaned and creaked, but eventually the door was past the boot.

Adrian looked through the back and front windscreen to see Jimmy Chilton slumped over the bonnet. The windscreen had been smashed to let whoever was driving the car out and the door to the inside of the house was open.

‘It’s Chilton,’ he called to Imogen. ‘He’s in there. Phone it in and call an ambulance. Someone’s going to have to move this car. I’m going to go around the back of the house and see if there is another way into the garage.’

‘Be careful,’ Imogen said, pulling out her phone.

Adrian heard her on the phone to the station as he zipped past the bins on the other side of the house and opened the gate into the garden. He ran around to the kitchen door which, fortunately, was just a latch lock.

Adrian took his coat off and wrapped it around his fist before punching through the small pane of glass. Reaching inside, he unclipped the latch and let himself into the kitchen. Before venturing into the garage, Adrian opened the front door so Imogen could get inside the house; he didn’t want to walk into that garage alone.

They found Jimmy Chilton pressed up against the wall, his legs invisible to them, his body sprouted from the headlamp.

‘He didn’t do this to himself,’ Adrian said.

‘Do you want to check his pulse or should I?’ Imogen said.

‘Either way, he’s a dead man,’ Adrian said quietly, in case by some miracle Jimmy could hear them.

Adrian had seen something like this when he had just joined the police, back when he was a PC. He had held the hand of the man until they moved the car, at which point he died instantly. Adrian reached across the bonnet, his fingers barely touching Jimmy’s wrist. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he could feel a faint pulse. It was a blessing that he wasn’t conscious, at least.

This must be one of the worst ways to go, just waiting and knowing that you are going to die – the car a part of your body and the only thing completing the circuit and allowing you not to bleed to death.

‘How long do you think he’s been like this?’ Imogen said.

‘I don’t know. We know he left work at ten and it’s a twenty-minute drive, assuming he came straight home. It’s coming up to two o’clock now – around three hours, give or take. I hope he passed out soon after. His pulse is very weak, but it’s there.’

‘He’s facing the car, so he saw it coming,’ Imogen said.