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Niall

Just as they’re leaving, George evidently receives a text, then relays it to Isabella. Niall, in his position in the doorway, strains to listen.

He moves backwards, pressing himself against the front door. Twigs from a bush that arches overhead sharp-scratch his skin, leaves grazing his arms and neck, but he knows he needs to be hidden and he knows he needs to hear.

‘Deschamps sent a book to Camilla. Charlie’s read some of it. Deschamps has written down the whole thing, as Alex. How Alex killed James. Names changed. And how Deschamps saw, then killed Alex, trying to get him off James. He’s written all about our family – he must’ve found other people to talk about us. Says at the end of the book that he’s in Dungeness. We need to go ourselves. Now.’

The night is so silent around Niall that the air seems to throb with it. Distant traffic, a pulsing siren somewhere, but nothing else, only the low, muted voices of people who do not want a casual observer.

He nods, just once, to himself. It makes sense. It makes sense now. A peaceful feeling comes over Niall. He can do anything, even scary things, if only he knows the why. And he does. Deschamps was caught in a crossfire that night, witnessing a murder, trying to intervene, trying to be good, going about it the wrong way. And now has enemies, one crime family, at least. The Lancasters’ child was murdered by Alexander Hale. But Hale was then killed by Deschamps: making him the enemy.

And to a copper, too. No wonder. No wonder he had to disappear once he had killed their lackeys.

He’d had no chance.

The Louises don’t want a follower, but that is precisely what Niall is going to be. He checks his phone, wondering whether to contact Cam and tell her, but decides not to. She is not in danger: he is with her enemies.

He can debrief with her, afterwards. Once he’s solved it. Once he’s rescued her husband, and brought him to her.