‘Good,’ she said, exhaling, and even the effort of that made her feel weak, sinking further into the gravel.

‘Are you OK?’ he said, taking charge again, because that’s what teams did. ‘Are you in danger?’

‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘Not any more. Not really.’

Did he know? Could he hear it in her voice, raw and scratchy, marked forever by the last three hours?

‘OK, hold tight. I’m on my way, Pip. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.’

‘No, wait, don’t speed, you can’t get –’

But he was already gone, three loud beeps in her ear. He was gone, but he was on his way.

‘I love you,’ she said to the empty phone, because she never wanted there to be a last time again. Another crunch of gravel. Step after step after step. Pacing up and down, counting her steps, to count the seconds, to count the minutes. And though she told herself not to look, her eyes always found their way back to the body, convincing herself that he had shifted each time. He hadn’t; he was dead.

Pacing up and down, the early stirrings of a plan seeding in her brain, now that the shock had passed. But it was missing something. It was missing Ravi. She needed him, the team, their back and forth that always showed her the right way, the middle road between her and him.

Headlights broke open the deepening sky, a car pulling into the drive just before the Green Scene gate, hanging wide open. Pip held up her hand to shield her eyes from the glare, and then she waved for Ravi to stop. The car stopped in front of the gate, and the headlights blinked out.

The car door opened and a Ravi-shaped silhouette stepped out. He didn’t even wait to shut the door, running over to her, scattering gravel.

Pip stopped and studied him, like it was the very first time again. Something tightened in her gut, another thing loosening in her chest, releasing, breaking open. He’d promised she would see him again, and here he was, getting closer and closer.

Pip held up her hand again to keep him back from her. ‘Did you leave your phone at home?’ she said, voice quavering.

‘Yes,’ Ravi said, his eyes wide with fear. Widening further as he studied her back. ‘You’re hurt,’ he said, moving forward. ‘What happened?’

Pip stepped away from him. ‘Don’t touch me,’ she said. ‘It’s... I’m fine. It’s not my blood. Not most of it. It’s...’ She forgot what she was trying to say.

Ravi steadied his face, held up his hands to steady her too. ‘Pip, look at me,’ he said calmly, though she could tell he was anything but. ‘Tell me what happened. What are you doing here?’

Pip glanced behind her, at Jason’s feet hanging out the doorway.

Ravi must have followed her eyes.

‘Fuck, who is – Are they OK?’

‘He’s dead,’ Pip said, turning back. ‘It’s Jason Bell. It was Jason Bell, he was the DT Killer.’

Ravi blinked for a moment, shuffling through her words, trying to find the sense in them.

‘He’s... what? How did he...?’ Ravi shook his head. ‘How do you know?’

Pip couldn’t tell which answer he needed to hear first. ‘How do I know he was the DT Killer? Because he took me. Abducted me from Cross Lane, tied me up in the boot of his car. Brought me here. Wrapped my face up in duct tape, bound me to a shelf. Exactly like he did to the rest of them. They died here. And he was going to kill me.’ It didn’t sound real, now that she was saying it out loud. Like all of that had happened to a different person, separate from her. ‘He was going to kill me, Ravi.’ Her voice snagged in her worn-out throat. ‘I thought I was dead and... and I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again, see anyone. And I thought about you finding out I was dead and –’

‘Hey, hey, hey,’ he said quickly, taking one careful step towards her. ‘You’re OK, Pip. I’m here, OK? I’m here now.’ He glanced back over at Jason’s body, eyes lingering too long. ‘Fuck,’ he hissed. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck. I can’t believe it. You shouldn’t have been out on your own. I shouldn’t have let you be out on your own. Fuck,’ he said again, hitting his palm against his forehead. ‘Fuck. Are you OK? Did he hurt you?’

‘No, I’m... I’m fine,’ she said, that small, cavernous word again, hiding all sorts of dark things. ‘Just from the tape. I’m fine.’

‘So, how did...?’ Ravi began, his eyes abandoning her again, slipping back over to the dead man twelve feet away.

‘He left me, tied up,’ Pip sniffed. ‘I don’t know where he went, or for how long. But I managed to push over the shelves, get free and take off the tape. There’s a window, I broke out of it. And –’

‘OK, OK,’ he cut her off. ‘OK, that’s OK, Pip. It’s going to be OK. Fuck,’ he said again, more to himself than her. ‘Whatever you did, it was in self-defence, OK? Self-defence. He was going to kill you, so you had to kill him. That’s what this is. Self-defence, and that’s OK, Pip. We just need to call the police, OK? Tell them what happened, what he did to you and that it was self-defence.’

Pip shook her head.

‘No?’ Ravi lowered his eyebrows. ‘What do you mean, no, Pip? We have to call the police. There’s a dead man on the ground over there.’

‘It wasn’t self-defence,’ she said quietly. ‘I had escaped. I was free. I could have walked away. But I saw him return, and I went back. I killed him, Ravi. Snuck up behind him and hit him with a hammer. I chose to kill him. It wasn’t self-defence. I had a choice.’

Ravi was shaking his head now; he still couldn’t see it, the full picture. ‘No, no, no. He was going to kill you, that’s why you killed him. That’s self-defence, Pip. It’s OK.’

‘I killed him.’

‘Because he was going to kill you,’ Ravi said, his voice rising.

‘How do you know that?’ Pip said. She had to make him see, make him see that self-defence wasn’t an option here, as she’d already realized, pacing up and down.

‘How do I know that?’ Ravi asked, incredulous. ‘Because he took you. Because he’s the DT Killer.’

‘The DT Killer has been in prison for more than six years,’ Pip said, not in her own voice. ‘He confessed. There have been no killings since.’

‘What? B-but–’

‘He pleaded guilty in court. There was evidence. Forensic and circumstantial. The DT Killer is already in prison. So why did I kill this man?’

Ravi’s eyes narrowed, confused. ‘Because he was the real DT Killer!’

‘The DT Killer is already in prison,’ Pip repeated, watching his eyes, waiting for him to understand. ‘Jason Bell was a respectable man. A managing director of a mid-size company, and no one has a bad word to say about him. Acquaintances, friends even, with DI Richard Hawkins. Jason has already been through a tragedy, a tragedy – you might argue – that I made much worse. So, why did I have a fixation on Jason Bell? Why was I trespassing on his private property on a Saturday evening? Why did I sneak up behind him and hit him with a hammer? Not just once. I don’t know how many times. Go look at him, Ravi. Go look. I didn’t just kill him. Overkill, that’s the term, isn’t it? And that is incompatible with selfdefence. So, why did I kill this nice, respectable man?’