Page 14 of The Final Vow (Washington Poe #7)

‘Jesus, look at this place,’ Flynn said. ‘It’s emptier than an English church.’

She wasn’t wrong. Gretna Green, as well as the nearby town of Gretna, was usually bustling.

Poe often made the quick trip over the border as one of Gretna’s butchers sold full-size Stornoway black puddings.

He knew there was no quiet season. Millions of visitors flocked to Gretna Green each year.

They came for weddings, blacksmith blessings, marriage reenactments and handfasting ceremonies, whatever the hell they were.

They shopped in the outlet village, they drank in the pubs and they dined in the restaurants.

And they wandered the streets like the gormless idiots all tourists were. Now it looked uninhabited.

But . . . that wasn’t quite right. Gretna Green was empty, but only if you took a cursory view.

When you studied it, really studied it, signs of life were everywhere.

The shops were shuttered, but they were open.

Pubs were serving drinks and meals, but tarpaulin covered the entrances and the curtains were drawn.

The schools were open but outdoor activities had been cancelled.

And when someone did have to go outside, they scrambled around like beetles whose rock had been overturned.

‘I can’t remember the last time I saw someone walk in a straight line,’ Flynn said, watching him in the mirror. ‘It’s all zigzags or a crouching run now.’

‘It’s because he’s so indiscriminate,’ Poe said. ‘It’s like the early days of the pandemic. Unless you’re at home, you don’t feel safe.’

‘No wonder he’s been designated a threat to national security. It’s chaos out here.’

‘The sniper’s like the Joker,’ Bradshaw said. ‘He was in it for the chaos, wasn’t he, Poe?’

‘If you say so, Tilly,’ Poe said.

‘Didn’t you read that essay I did for New York University? It was called “Comic Book Villains and the Poincaré Map”. I sent you the link.’

Flynn scowled. ‘You sent everyone that link, Tilly,’ she said.