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Poe began sensing pain rather than regaining consciousness.

Years ago, when he’d taken more of an interest in popular culture, he had watched Casino, a film about how the Chicago mob had moved into Las Vegas and changed Sin City for good. It was a violent film, even by Scorsese’s standards. And in one stomach-churning scene, made worse as it was based on real events, a mob enforcer put someone’s head in a vice and turned the handle until an eye popped out.

That’s how Poe felt now. Like his head was in a vice.

The pain was hot and hard, as if he’d been drinking cheap whisky in a bad mood. Everything felt heavy, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. His ears were ringing, his mouth tasted briny, and the rhythmic throb of blood pounded into his skull. His left temple felt swollen and numb. He went to touch it but couldn’t – his hands were fastened tight behind his back, the binding thin and vicious.

Poe tried opening his eyes, but even the dim light of the basement was too harsh. He ignored the searing pain and opened them anyway. He was almost blind in one eye and his vision in the other was blurred and narrow, as if he was looking through an unfocused telescope. He could see crazy zigzag colours. The basement began to spin wildly. Poe had seen enough head injuries to know he was badly concussed. He tried blinking his eyes into focus, the way he sometimes tried with an ill-fitting contact lens, but realised something was wrong with his eye socket. The bone moved under his skin and his eye felt loose. He hoped it wasn’t about to fall out.

Poe held the grogginess at bay long enough to take stock of his predicament. He was still in Eve’s basement. He had been secured in a sitting position to one of the supporting posts, his legs stretched out in front of him like shotgun barrels. He regretted the ‘shot at dawn’ internal narration earlier. Now it was all he could think about.

‘You really shouldn’t have asked for a photograph of Aaron, Sergeant Poe,’ Eve said from somewhere behind him.

Poe twisted his head to see where she was, but immediately regretted it as the pain in his skull flared. He slowly, gingerly faced forward again. He felt vulnerable with his back to Eve, but really, what did it matter? He was completely at her mercy. Being able to see her wasn’t going to make any difference.

‘Where’s Thomas?’ he asked, his voice thick and slurred.

‘Upstairs. He’ll join us soon.’

‘Why didn’t you want me seeing a photograph of Aaron, Eve?’

‘I’m not bothered if you see one, Sergeant Poe,’ she said. ‘You’ve just watched him on a video. I know you know what Aaron looked like.’

‘Then what?’

One moment Eve was behind him, the next she was at his side. She was still holding the mallet, but not aggressively, more like she’d forgotten to put it down.

‘Promise it’ll stay between us?’ she said, smiling.

‘I’d cross my heart if I could,’ Poe replied. The way she was smiling frightened him.

‘I couldn’t risk a photograph of Aaron being put through your colleague’s age-progression software, Sergeant Poe,’ she replied.

‘I know he’s your baby brother, but we’ll catch him eventually, with or without your help.’

Even as he skirted around the edges of unconsciousness, as his vision began to swim and fade in and out of focus, he knew he was missing something. Eve’s actions didn’t make sense. The thick fog in his brain meant it was hard to make connections, but taking a police officer hostage was a staggering overreaction to a simple request. And Eve seemed too calculating for that. She had reasons for doing what she was doing, reasons that, to her at least, made sense.

A noise from the basement stairs made them both look up. It was Thomas. He joined his wife. If he was surprised to see Poe tied up and with a serious head injury, he didn’t show it. He put his arm around Eve and she leaned in to him. She rested her head on his shoulder and nuzzled into his neck. Thomas gently lifted Eve’s face until it was level with his. They kissed deeply.

Public displays of affection made Poe uncomfortable at the best of times, but something else was happening here. It was as if Eve and Thomas were putting on a display. His own private peep show. After they had finished kissing, Eve tilted her head and eyed Poe coyly. Her face was flushed and her breathing was so fast and shallow she was almost panting.

‘He wants to know why we can’t risk a picture of Aaron being put through their age-progression software,’ she said in a girly, singsong voice.

‘What did you tell him?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Has he worked it out yet?’

‘I don’t think so,’ Eve said. ‘He doesn’t seem very bright.’

She smiled sweetly. Poe turned away from her and faced Thomas instead. He didn’t have his wife’s confidence. Eve was almost hanging off him, but Poe got the impression Thomas was very much the beta to her alpha.

What was it he hadn’t worked out yet? He instinctively knew it was something to do with Thomas. He looked nervous whereas Eve was enjoying herself. Poe had hunted and caught husband-and-wife tag teams before. Couples who killed for pleasure or profit, sometimes for both. He didn’t think that was the case here. This was something he hadn’t seen before.

He cast his mind back. Way before Cornelius Green’s murder had brought him into their orbit. He visualised the Bowman massacre file. Was the answer in there somewhere? He thought it might be.

For some reason, what Aaron had looked like when he was a child was important. No, that wasn’t right. Eve had said it was making sure Bradshaw didn’t get hold of a photograph of a young Aaron that was important. So important that she and Thomas had embarked on a course of action that could only end with them murdering a police officer.

Something in Poe’s muddled brain clicked and, like a spotlight had been turned on, everything became clear. The moment he separated the photograph from the boy, he was able to see what Eve was determined to protect. It had been in front of him all this time, but up so close he hadn’t been able to bring it into focus.

The isolated house.

The husband who wouldn’t take a job locally.

The boy who couldn’t be put through an age-progression program.

Poe locked eyes with Eve’s husband.

‘Hello, Aaron,’ he said.