She went back into the living room and grabbed Helen Roberts by her arm. ‘You’re under arrest,’ she said, and yanked her towards the door. Her dog started to growl and then bark, but Laura ignored it, twisting Helen’s arm up her back.

‘What for?’ Helen shouted.

‘All the things that the inspector mentioned, so shut your mouth and get outside,’ Laura snapped in her ear. ‘You’re going to the station.’

Helen looked back at Angel, whose hand was over her mouth, and Helen started to say something, but Laura pushed her hard through the doorway, her shoulders banging against the door frame.

‘You’re hurting me,’ Helen said, her voice angry.

‘Tell your lawyer that,’ Laura said. ‘He might be in the next cell before morning.’

The uniformed officer walked towards the front door, a young male officer, uncertainty in his eyes, unclear as to why he was there.

‘We needed cuffs and a car with proper locks,’ Laura said, and pushed Helen towards him. ‘Take her with you.’

Carson walked past Laura and went into the house as the handcuffs snapped around Helen’s wrists. Laura followed him.

‘She’s gone now,’ Carson said to Angel. ‘I think we need to talk, don’t you?’

Angel began to nod, tears streaming down her face. She slumped backwards onto the sofa. ‘I’m scared,’ she said.

Laura pushed past Carson and kneeled down in front of Angel. ‘We need to stop David from helping them kill someone.’

Angel nodded again.

‘Where are they?’ Laura said.

Angel looked towards the window as shouting came from outside. It sounded like the uniform was struggling with Helen. Then she wiped away the tears.

‘I heard them talking. Don’s got premises, where he keeps his vans. They were taking him there.’

‘Did they say where?’

Angel shook her head. ‘Sorry,’ and then the tears started to flow again.

Laura got up and looked around the room. She was looking for something with Don’s business details on it. The room was just filled with gadgets and videos, with computer games stacked by the television. Then she saw them, a pile of papers on a shelf in the corner.

Laura went to them, and saw they were carbonated sheets filled out with vehicle details. Clamping tickets. There was a number and the name of the company, DR Security, emblazoned across the top. Underneath that there was an address. ‘We’ve got it,’ she said.

‘And what about me?’ Angel said.

‘You’re coming with us,’ Laura replied, and they all headed for Carson’s car outside.

Don Roberts went to the back of one of the vans and re-appeared holding a long tow-rope. He fashioned a noose at one end, his eyes on Jack, and then turned away to throw the rope over a roof beam. The noose dangled a few feet above the head of his prisoner.

‘Help me,’ Don barked at David Hoyle, who stayed silent and just shook his head. Don glared a look of disapproval. He had spotted Hoyle for what most lawyers were, tough with a pen, cruel with their actions, but they couldn’t cope when it didn’t stay clean.

One of Don’s muscle men stepped forward instead and kneeled down to untie the rope that bound the prisoner’s feet to the chair. When they came loose, he flopped forward, his hands behind his back, the only thing keeping him up.

‘Get him on the chair,’ Don said, his voice a growl now.

The goon hooked his arms under his prisoner’s and then hoisted him to his feet.

‘If you do it, you’ll die,’ Jack shouted.

The man looked up slowly, his mouth hanging slack, bloodied drool forming a tentacle on its way to the floor. He peered at Jack through his swollen lids and then put his head down.

Don stared at Jack, his expression a mix of rage and confusion, wondering why he cared.

‘He did it for Emma,’ Jack blurted out. When Don didn’t answer, he continued, ‘You remember her, don’t you, Don? Corley knows. Ask him.’ A look flashed between them. ‘The teenage girl you both abused all those years ago. No, not abused. Raped. Under age. Ringing any bells, Don? I never took you for a kiddy-fiddler.’

Don clenched his jaw and then said, ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t I? Or maybe there were a few more? How many, Don? The one I spoke to seemed pretty certain. Emma she was called. And there’s something else you don’t know: she had the baby. Didn’t Mike tell you all this?’

Don whirled around to Mike Corley. ‘Did you know about this?’

‘He told me before,’ Mike said.

‘Why didn’t you mention it?’

‘This isn’t some fucking cosy reunion,’ Mike snapped. ‘Once we’ve finished here, we go back to being cop and criminal. He’s got it all down on tape anyway. I just want him dead,’ and he pointed to the figure on the chair. ‘I don’t care what happens after that.’

Don clicked his fingers at one of his goons and pointed towards the door. ‘Check out his car for a tape machine.’ Then he walked over towards Jack, the click of his shoes louder now as everyone descended into silence. He stood over Jack, his fists clenched. ‘You need to learn to keep your mouth shut,’ he said, his voice trembling with anger.

Jack looked up, tried to gauge what Don would do. The iron was still plugged in, the orange light clicking on and off as it maintained its heat. Jack could feel the tension in the room. He had changed the dynamic, from the simple murder of someone who perhaps deserved it, to a scenario where someone could expose them and send them to prison. There were more people there than just Don and Mike though. If he could turn the others against them, maybe he could find a way out of this.

‘If you like fucking children, that’s your business,’ Jack said. ‘Does it make him much worse than you?’

Jack felt a burst of pain as Don punched him. His jaw went slack and blood spewed onto the floor, and he coughed a tooth onto the concrete. He took some deep breaths through his nose and looked at Don again. ‘She had a bouncing baby boy, but she had to give him away. She couldn’t give him a proper life, because she was just a child herself, but babies get bigger, and eventually they grow up.’

Jack nodded towards Don’s prisoner. ‘Say hello to your son.’

Don swallowed.

‘Although you’ve already acquainted yourself,’ Jack continued, ‘because you’ve just had your son tied to a chair.’

Don looked back to the bloodied figure by the chair, his face filled with confusion now, and then at Mike Corley, who was ashen.

‘He was adopted,’ Jack said. ‘Emma doesn’t know whose child it is. Maybe it’s your son, Mike. Are you going to save him? His real name is Shane. Say hello.’

‘This is bullshit,’ Don said, but his tone was unconvincing.

Jack shook his head slowly and then pointed towards the prisoner. ‘Ask him.’

Don followed his gaze, and the prisoner looked around the room, his face screwed up with pain, and then he started to nod. He tried to say something, but blood speckled his chin. Then he lifted his head and tried again.

‘I fucked up your daughters like you both fucked up my mother,’ he said, and then he started to cackle.

Don marched over and gripped him by the shirt. He hoisted him onto the chair, his rage giving him extra strength, so that his head was level with the noose. Don hesitated, just for a moment, but when Shane started to grin, Don reached for the noose and wrapped it around Shane’s neck. Don stepped back.

Shane was standing on the chair, his hands still tied behind his back. Don reached forward with his foot until it rested on the edge of the chair, ready to kick it over. He looked back at Jack, and then back at Shane. He seemed to be having second thoughts, as if he had seen something in Shane, a recognition of his own flesh.

But Jack was wrong.

Don moved away and walked quickly to his office. When he returned, he was holding a baseball bat. He tossed it to Mike Corley, who weighed it in his hand for a moment, and then Mike strode towards Shane, who was twisting his body, waiting for the blow. Mike pulled the bat back, ready for a swing. When he got within striking distance, he swung hard, the bat aiming right between Shane’s legs.