Katie had struggled under her attacker and watched the second intruder move forward to grab her. Only he hadn’t.

Instead he’d grabbed the guy on top of her and yanked him back, and down they’d both gone. Katie heard grunting, thudding, and felt the two men banging into her legs as they rolled and wrestled. She’d lain still, in the dark, unable to move, listening, until finally the noises had stopped and a single human shape had risen and stood before her. There’d been enough light coming through the curtains to allow him to see all her nakedness, but she still hadn’t moved. Couldn’t. Not even a hand to cover herself.

‘Get dressed and come with me,’ the guy had said. The new guy. The one who, thus far, had acted as if he was on her side.

He’d turned on the light, and she’d seen that he was wearing a balaclava, same as his colleague, but normal clothes, not a boiler suit. She’d sat up and pulled the blanket around her, and that was when she’d seen the boiler suit guy on her bedroom carpet, eyes wide, blonde hair a mess, blood running from his nose. Dead. She could see these things because he no longer wore a balaclava. The guy standing before her must have taken it from him so she wouldn’t see his face. She’d thought it was a good sign: wasn’t that what they did in the films, covered their faces if they planned on leaving a captive alive?

‘Come with me and you’ll be safe,’ he’d told her, backing off to the doorway, as if to reassure her.

When she hadn’t moved, he’d taken a step closer, and she’d shifted backwards on the bed, and that had made him stop. It had been clear to her, then, that he hadn’t wanted to scare her.

He’d stripped off the balaclava, tossed it down. Fear had welled up for a second, but he’d been no one she recognised: a soft face, feminine, although he had three long scratch wounds on his forehead. A face she’d thought she could… trust.

‘Who are you?’

‘Just get dressed. I’ll help you and your husband. Call the cops and I can’t do that, and they won’t find him, at least not alive. You have a choice. Call them or come with me.’ He’d pointed at the bedside phone, but she hadn’t moved. Then he’d backed out of the doorway and shut the door. She’d scrambled for the phone.

But she hadn’t made the call. She’d thought about what he had said, and about the rogue policeman who had tried to abduct Karl. Other policemen could be involved. This strange man had saved her, but who was he? Some kind of friend, of course, and someone who knew all about what had been going on. Someone who claimed he could take her to him, help them both.

Against her better judgement, she’d moved away from the phone, thrown on clothing, one ear on the door, half-expecting him to burst in, all of it some joke. But the door had stayed shut.

She’d opened the door slowly once dressed, and he’d been there, sitting on the top stair. Just waiting, either for her or the cops. He’d stood, gone down the stairs without a word.

She’d followed, even though her fear radar had been screaming. When she’d got to the top of the stairs and looked down, he’d been there, at the bottom, waiting again. And then he’d moved away.

At the living room doorway, she’d peered round. If this was all some trick, she figured, there would be a surprise for her here, in the living room. But there hadn’t been. Just the guy, standing at the kitchen door and waiting for her. He’d vanished again as soon as he’d seen her.

He'd been waiting at the open back door. Moonlight soaked his shoulders and head, but his face had been in shadow. Again, he'd vanished the moment she saw him. She was being led like some dumb animal, she’d realised. No, she’d told herself, he was keeping his distance, that was all.

It had happened again. He’d been at the open back gate just long enough to confirm that she had appeared at the door. When she’d reached the gate, she’d looked out and seen him at the end of the driveway. She’d been reminded of chasing a rainbow as a kid, riding her bike towards the giant arc of colour but never getting any closer.

She’d felt better, then, because she was out where people could see. In fact, there’d been a guy with a dog on the other side of the road, just ambling past. She could have called for help. But she hadn’t. Some part of her hadn’t wanted to because she trusted the soft-faced man.

When the dog-walker had disappeared behind a white van, she’d seen the stranger inside the vehicle, waiting. She’d gone to it, opened the passenger door and, shocking herself even after coming this far, got inside. As she’d climbed in, she’d seen another guy in the back, slumped on the floor between two armchairs. Dead. It hadn’t shocked her but reinforced her belief that the man was there to help. He had killed two men in order to save her, for a reason she didn’t yet know.

‘Where’s Karl?’ she’d asked.

Brad had started the engine. He’d known this would have been the point where she would have flown if she’d finally decided to. But she’d just sat there, with no clue that he wasn’t taking her to her husband.

‘I don’t know for sure,’ he’d said. ‘But I promise I’m here to help you.’ He’d handed her a knife. She’d looked at it. She was supposed to have taken it, to know that he’d been offering it as a weapon against him if he’d tried anything. The gesture had seemed to have been enough, though, because she’d shaken her head.

He’d pulled away from the kerb slowly, had given her the option to leap out if she’d suddenly decided she wanted no part of this. She’d stayed in her seat, staring ahead through the windscreen. Doubting herself. Twenty seconds later they’d got up to forty and away from the estate, and Brad had shifted his mind from the woman. She would have baulked by now if planning to, so he had her trust. He’d emptied his mind, because he’d known he could not plan his next move until he’d found out for sure about Dave. He hadn’t spoken, and the woman beside him hadn’t either, and they’d driven like that, like a married couple comfortable with silence.

If he’d been on the fence about Mick’s traitorous intentions tonight, all doubt had vanished when he’d turned onto Dave’s street and seen flashing blue lights. Two police cars and an ambulance. It could have been down to a pair of neighbours having a violent confrontation, but he’d known it hadn’t been. Dave. Something had happened to Dave. No, Mick. Mick had happened to Dave.

He’d turned the van and got the hell out of there before the cops could have seen him. His mind somersaulted. Mick had finally derailed. His plan tonight had been to go out with a bang, regardless of the damage, then escape. Gold and Seabury and Grafton’s wife were his enemies and had had to be put down, Brad got that. Brad and Dave had information that could have sunk him, so Brad understood Mick’s motivation there, too. Seabury’s wife, though… unnecessary. A step too far. Enough to change things. Brad had never intended to take the woman to her husband at all. His plan had been to dump her at a cop shop. Then, though, he’d said: ‘I need your help. I’ll take you to your husband, but there will be another man there. I need you to play along with me, if you can. I know you’re pregnant, but I need something from you. It will be hard, but it’s the only way. Let me explain…’