I thought about shouting. Thought about calling out a name. But I didn’t want to get Jed’s attention. I wanted to get in here as quiet as I could, catch him in the midst of whatever he was doing.

  Sure, I didn’t have a weapon on me. I’d have to improvise.

  But shit—hadn’t I been frigging improvising all my life?

  I stepped through the kitchen. No matter how hard I tried to be quiet, my feet echoed against the hard tiles. I breathed in deeply. Breathed in, looked to my left, looked to my right, as I moved through the kitchen doorway and into the hall.

  I stopped when I stepped inside.

  At the bottom of the hallway, a little boy of about six stood. He had wavy brown hair and was wearing an England football shirt.

  Tears streamed down his cheeks.

  “Hey, kid,” I said. Shit. How was I supposed to speak to a kid? “What… You’re Daley, right?”

  The kid didn’t nod. He just stared at me as I approached. Stared at me with wide brown eyes.

  “It’s… it’s alright now, boy. I’m not going to hurt you. Your mum. Is she… is she around?”

  The kid stared on.

  My stomach sank again, and I figured it’d be doing a shitload more sinking before I wrapped up this case, then a whole load of sinking after.

  I realised the kid wasn’t looking at me. Nope, the old looking beyond me trick. I was gonna have to sharpen up at my “looking beyond” detection skills. They were causing me some real problems.

  I felt the presence of someone behind me now. The same presence that I’d felt behind me in Martha’s house. Shit—when had my life become such an 18-rated pantomime?

  I thought about recycling my old spin and kick trick.

  Instead, I clocked the blue-patterned flowerpot from the cabinet beside me, grabbed it, and swung around.

  Jed Chipps was facing me. Smiling.

  His hands dripped with blood. His black hoodie, which he wore so proudly at every crime, was stained.

  “You shouldn’t have come here, Blake Dent,” he said. “You should’ve just left me to finish my work in peace.”

  “What? Left you to kill your wife? To kidnap your kid? Is that what this is, Jed?”

  Jed didn’t look remotely surprised that I knew his name. His expression didn’t change a bit.

  “You know, I kind of respect you,” he said. “You’ve certainly done a better job than the police department in pursuing me, whatever you are. Some kind of PI, I figure.”

  “Bounty hunter. Compliments accepted. Tips welcomed.”

  Jed laughed. “It’s just a shame it’s me you’re pursuing. A shame you weren’t on my case when my son was taken away from me. When I was denied access. Maybe you’d have seen the wider picture.”

  I gulped down a lump in my throat.

  “The only picture I see is a murdering nutjob who’s going to jail for the rest of his life.”

  Jed tutted. “Shame.”

  And then he swung his black Doc Martens boot out and kicked me in the shin.

  I didn’t want to fall over. No part of my body wanted to fall over. But I did anyway. I fell over, dropped the flowerpot, hit the ground and smacked my face on the floor. I tasted copper in my mouth as I bit my tongue.

  Jed rolled me over.

  “I gave you a chance, Blake Dent,” he said. He lifted a long, bloody knife out of his pocket. I heard Daley whimper and cry as he stood at the bottom of the hallway. “I gave you a chance, and you didn’t listen. This is what I do to people who don’t listen.”

  “I’d think about the police outside before you bring that knife down!”

  Jed stopped. Froze in mid-air. I wasn’t sure whether opening up about the police was a good thing. On the one hand, he knew backup was either outside or on its way. He had an opportunity to rethink.

  On the other hand, I could’ve kept my mouth shut. Let him take his time stabbing me to death. Hope for backup to walk in while he’s in the act.

  Nah. First option definitely better. Always the first option.

  Jed brought the knife closer to me anyway. Pressed the sharp end of the blade against my Adam’s apple.

  “You’re a pest, Blake Dent. A nosy pest. A nosy pest who sticks their face where it doesn’t belong, just like those girls I killed. Meddling, they were. No idea about my life, not in the slightest.”

  I took in shallow breaths as Jed held the blade down on my Adam’s apple. Where the hell were backup? And where the hell was Jenny, anyway?

  “You can stop this. Stop this right now. Don’t… don’t let your son see this.”

  I knew the words were ridiculous the second they came out of my mouth. I knew it even more so when I saw the smile on Jed’s face.

  “You’re fun. I’ll give you that. A lot of fun.”

  He lifted the knife.

  I watched it come down in slow motion.

  I rolled to my side.

  Rolled to my side as it came further down. Yanked myself back to stop it landing anywhere but my neck, my chest…

  I felt it slam into my leg. Felt a sudden burning sharpness at the bottom of my right thigh.

  And then I heard an engine.

  Jed looked up. He tugged the knife out of my leg and backed away from me.

  “You weren’t bluffing about the backup. Ballsy, I’ll give you that.”

  He rushed over to Daley, who sobbed away.

  “Come on, son,” he said. He grabbed his hand. “We… we have to go.”

  “But Mummy—”

  “We’ll be with Mummy soon. I promise.”

  He stepped over me as I clutched at my burning leg. Luckily, he’d only caught the edge of my right thigh, so hopefully no major arteries were pierced or anything like that.

  I said luckily. It frigging stung like hell, for what it was worth.

  “Been nice knowing you, Blake Dent,” Jed said. He smiled at me. A genuine smile of affection. “We’ve had a lot of fun together. Be thankful my kid’s watching or I’d have even more fun with you. All the best.”

  And then he took off, dragged Daley along with him, and disappeared out the back door of the bungalow.

  I clutched my leg. My head felt weak, dizzy, as I stared down at the blood. I could hear shouting outside. Hear engines starting up, slowing down.

  And then I heard a crunch. The squealing of brakes. The sound of a collision.

  I lifted myself up, biting my lip through the pain in my leg. I hobbled back through the kitchen, then back out the door. The collision. It had to be Jed. The backup, they’d rammed him. Stopped him leaving.

  When I reached the bottom of the driveway, almost keeling over with pain and lightheadedness, you guessed it—my poor stomach did its sinky thing again.

  The front of Lenny’s Mini Cooper was smashed. Completely smashed in. Lenny sat behind the wheel, eyes wide, hands raised, like he was a statue.

  Jed’s Land Rover sped down the road. Sped to the end of Moss House Avenue and took a left.

  The backup. Where the bloody hell was the backup? I’d heard an engine. I’d heard—

  “What the hell happened to you, hun?”

  I turned around. Saw Martha’s blue Fiat Punto parked on the kerb, the engine rumbling.

  I hobbled towards her. Hobbled, still holding onto my thigh, blood dribbling out of it.

  “The Land Rover,” I said, as I threw myself into the passenger seat. “Jed—Jed’s Land Rover.”

  “Blake, I… I think you need a doctor, darling. I think we need to—”

  “Follow that frigging Land Rover. Now!”

  FORTY-ONE

  Jed Chipps’ heart races as he drives away from Moss House Avenue.

  “Walking On Sunshine” plays through his car radio. He stares out at the road ahead, but his vision is blurry. He tastes blood on his lips—the blood of his wife, which splashed over him when he pressed the blade against her arm, sliced through her skin, through her muscle, into her bone.

  And then Blake Dent arrived. Out of nowhere, he arrived and he got in the way.

  He stopped him from killing her. Stopped him from having all the fun in the world with Jenny, from completing the fifth part of his revenge-killing puzzle in style.

  Shame. But oh well. The bitch would bleed out anyway.

  And he’d got what he wanted.

  “Where are we going, Daddy?” Daley asks.

  Jed looks at him in his rear view mirror. Sees his cute little face, his innocent brown eyes. Oh, his boy. Just hearing Daley call him “Daddy” calms Jed right away, cuts through all his worries.

  Jed smiles at him. “We’re just going somewhere fun. Somewhere we can have some good father-son time together.”

  Daley stares at Jed with his blank little eyes. Jed senses a million questions behind them.

  “Where’s Mummy?” he asks.

  Jed looks away from the rear-view mirror. Looks at the road ahead, the traffic building up as they get further into town, closer to the bus station, which towers above everything.

  “Mummy will be with us soon,” he says. He stares up to the top of the bus station. Looks at the multi-storey car park between the bus station and the roof, eighty metres above ground.

  “Are we going to the zoo?” Daley asks.

  Jed smiles.

  He turns right into the bus station. Turns again, into the spiralling car park entrance.

  “Sort of,” Jed says. “Sort of like a zoo. Only a zoo with all the animals, all the creatures in the world.”

  Daley smiles.

  He actually looks excited.

  Jed tastes the salt of his tears on his lips as he tries to hold a quivering smile.

  He wishes he had more time with his son. Wishes he’d been given the opportunity to raise him, like a real father should.

  But hey. He hadn’t.

  So now he is going to be with Daley forever.

  Pieces six and seven of his jigsaw.

  The final pieces.

  FORTY-TWO

  “Honey, I really think we should get to a hospital. We can leave Chipps to—”

  “Just drive, Martha.”

  I clutched my lower leg as Martha put her foot down on the accelerator. The bleeding wasn’t so bad, not since I’d wrapped it in one of Martha’s old white t-shirts. Well, I say old. She looked pretty gutted when I tightened it around my leg and soaked it in blood, I must admit.

  “We’ve been following him ten minutes,” Martha said. She leaned forward, squinted through her window. “I… He could’ve turned anywhere. He could’ve—”

  “We have to find him,” I said. My throat was dry. Colours filled up my vision. I knew I was being stupid not going to the hospital right away. But hell—that was just me through and through. “Besides, do you trust Lenny’s band of loons to catch this guy?”

  Martha tilted her head. “Fair point.”

  “He has his kid, Daley. He’s tortured, probably killed his wife, I’m sure of that. Who the frig knows what he’ll do next?”

  “He doesn’t sound like the reasoning type, I will admit.”

  “To put it lightly.”

  Martha slowed down as we approached a set of traffic lights. Great. Just what I needed—bloody traffic lights.

  “Always when you’re trying to bloody get somewhere,” Martha said.

  I bit my lip. Stared at the empty road ahead. The safe, clear road ahead.

  “Martha, put your foot on the accelerator.”

  She looked at me and frowned. “What? They’re on red. We can’t—”

  She didn’t carry on speaking because I leaned over and pushed the accelerator down with my good leg.

  “Blake! You tit. You tit. Last thing we need is to get caught—”

  “You’re halfway over now. Might as well go all the way.”

  She looked either side. I heard cars honking behind us, beside us.

  She shook her head. “I won’t forget this.”

  And then she put her foot on the gas and carried on through the red lights.

  We sped down the A6, heading towards town. Hopped another few lights on our way, but nobody seemed to notice so that was forgivable. I looked left and right, tried to spot the Land Rover, whether it might’ve pulled up or taken a turn.

  “Frigging Land Rover can’t have got too far,” I mumbled.

  “You living in the eighties or something? Have you even seen a modern Land Rover move?”

  I shrugged. “Why would I have any interest in a bastardisation of a minivan?”

  We headed further towards the city centre.

  “Shitting traffic,” I said. It got thicker and thicker the closer to the city we got.

  “Blake, I don’t mean to pry, and I, like, want my cut of the money as much as you, but we should really call the police. Like, now.”

  “And what? Have them hijack this entire job of ours? Have Lenny’s goons step in and take all the credit? No. This is ours. We’ve got this—”

  “There’s a child at stake. You said it yourself. Let the money and the pride go.”

  I looked at the traffic all around us. Looked at every car resembling a Land Rover, looked out for Chipps.

  “You’re bleeding to death and we’re stuck in a traffic jam. Is this really the right way to go about things? Really?”

  I knew Martha was right. I just couldn’t accept it, deep down. I’d seen Lenny nearly snatch this job away from me too many times already. I didn’t want to risk that happening again.

  Besides, there was a kid involved. And that kid was in danger unless somebody could stop him.

  “Lenny might stick to his word, I suppose,” I said.

  Martha screwed up her nose. “Yeah. He might.”

  She hardly inspired me with confidence.

  “We need to get you to the hospital, hun. Call Lenny. Tell him how far we’ve searched. But our part in this is over. I’m sorry Blake, but you know I’m right.”

  Disappointment didn’t feel like anything. It wasn’t a slackening of the muscles culminating in a sigh. It was just what it was: disappointment.

  I lifted the cracked phone out of my pocket. Almost bloody teared up at the thought that I’d never be able to pay for a replacement.

  “We’ve done alright,” Martha said. “Chased him to the end. Now it’s time to let the authorities take over.”

  I didn’t respond to Martha. I didn’t want to admit defeat, not aloud. Admitting defeat silently was hard enough.

  I hit Lenny’s name. Lifted the phone to my ear. Listened to the dialling tone.

  And then I noticed something up ahead.

  “Is that…?”

  Beyond the traffic, I could see the bus station. The sun shone against it so brightly that white light gleamed off its ugly metal exterior.

  “I… It can’t be. It… He wouldn’t.”

  “Blakey!” Lenny’s voice powered through the phone speaker. “Holy shit, Blakey. Did you see that nutter fly into my car? Took the pissing front off my Mini with his—”

  “I’m fine Lenny, thanks for asking. A little bit stabbed, but fine.”

  I blinked. Focused on the top of the bus station, beyond the pile-up of traffic.

  Somebody was standing by the edge of the roof.

  A man in a black hoodie.

  And in front of him, a kid with curly brown hair. Wearing an England shirt and staring down at the concrete below.

  “A little stabbed is better than a lot stabbed. Anyway, my Mini. Do you think insurance will cover it? I mean, my insurers are based in India, I swear. Whenever I call them, I end up on to this funny-voiced guy called Gupter and—”

  “Later, Lenny.”

  I cancelled the call.

  “Drive. We have to get through there.”

  Martha shook her head. “Through the traffic? I don’t drive an invisibility car.”

  I looked over at the pavement. It was empty, and offered a clear run down to the bus station.

  “On the pavement. We’re getting Chipps. We’ve come this far, we’re not giving up now.”

  Martha sighed. “What about all that realisation shit? Wasn’t a realisation supposed to be, like, the hallmark of any good story climax? The character’s major turning point?”

  I shook my head. Imagined my new iPad Air, my curved TV.

  “This character is never frigging changing. Drive.”

  Martha put her foot down.

  We moved out of the pile-up of traffic and bounced onto the pavement.

  A chorus of honking horns met our pavement manoeuvre. Drivers stared at us, jaws slack.

  “Faster, Martha! Faster!”

  Martha put her foot down even more. We flew along the pavement, shot past the crowd of waiting cars, closed in on the bus station.

  “Holy shit, hun! Fucking conga-style shit going on behind!”

  I looked in the mirror and saw what Martha meant.

  Other cars were following us onto the pavement. Flying down with us.

  I smiled. Stared up at Jed Chipps and his boy.

  Shit. I had no frigging idea how I was getting them off this building alive. But bloody hell. Speeding along a pavement in a blue Fiat Punto. That was some Bond-like action.

  If it wasn’t taking place in a blue Fiat Punto, of course.

  We slowed down as we got closer to the bus station, as the traffic eased off. Martha turned back onto the road, and entered through the “Bus Only” entrance.

  “Remind me never to taxi you again,” Martha said.

  I couldn’t stop myself smiling. Despite the bloody drastic situation, the horror of what was about to happen, I couldn’t help but grin.

  At least, until I felt the car bounce, scrape against the ground, and fly into the concrete bollards at the side of the bus station car park.

  Martha and I sat there. Smoke plumed out of the car bonnet.

  “What just…”

  “Step out of the vehicle with your hands above your head.”

  My stomach sank.

  “Oh shit,” Martha said. “Not another speeding fine. I can’t afford any more points on my licence. I’m all pointed out.”

  I looked at Martha’s car, its dashboard crumpled, smoke seeping out of it.

  “I think you’ve worse worries than points,” I said.

  Martha looked around, and I did too.