Holly used her heels to push her spine further up the wall behind her. She was sitting on the carpet, peering down at the dark stain on the blue waterproof material of her poncho. She didn’t want to lift it to look, but knew she had to. Her scalp prickled cold, and she wondered if she was going to pass out.

Penny’s crying was like a tiny voice of her own distress.

She could feel warmth where the bullet had struck her but no pain. Just an odd buzzing sensation. Was she in shock? She could scarcely feel her buttocks on the floor. Had the slug hit her spine? She wiggled her toes in her boots.

‘Say something!’

Holly was in no hurry to answer Maggie. She gritted her teeth and lifted the edge of her poncho and then her black pullover. She sucked in breath as she saw the large red patch above the waistband of her jeans, soaking through the olive green material of her T-shirt. She tugged it clear and exposed the skin with a black slit surrounded by shiny blood. It was just beside the top of her left hipbone. Had it gone in and ruptured anything vital?

‘Oh, Jesus.’ Holly felt nausea break over her. She tried to sit up further and, as she did, fresh blood poured out of the wound. It seemed so black. She ran her rubber-sheathed fingers across her stomach but couldn’t see another one. ‘Oh, Christ,’ she muttered. Her fingertips smeared red over her skin.

What was she supposed to do? She knew nothing about bullet injuries. The iciness spread to her forehead, and she focussed on the bedroom door. She could see the two holes in the panel. If Maggie wanted to take any more pot-shots at her she was still in the line of fire. Her own weapon lay only a couple of feet away from her left boot.

Beside her was the half-open door to the bathroom. Holly put her palms against the floor to shift herself sideways to it and yelped when the action pumped more blood out of her.

‘I can hear you there.’

Holly figured the sooner she was off the landing the better. She turned her body so her back was to the bathroom door and reversed on her behind. She leaned over and grabbed the handgun and droplets of blood sprayed over the mushroom carpet. She buffeted the door on her way through, and it jarred her, amplifying the fizz in her hip.

She slid all the way into the room and closed the door, pointing her weapon at it immediately after. If Maggie knew she was injured she might make the most of the opportunity and come in to finish her off.

But as her breathing slowed Penny’s muffled crying still hadn’t ceased. As long as the sound remained the same she knew Maggie was behind the bedroom door.

She slid all the way into the corner so she was between the side of the bath and the sink, with the hand towel against the back of her head. There were droplets of her blood on the tiles in her wake. So much for not leaving any tell-tale DNA behind.

The room settled, and she tried to slow her breathing. Holly felt so hot and needed to remove her hat. But she figured she might be able to clean the blood up. She left her hair tucked away and blew some air into her face before looking at her watch.

Less than eight hours until sunrise.

Had she briefly lost consciousness after she’d been shot? She couldn’t remember falling, only sitting up and retreating towards the nursery. Could she still leave the house a murderer?

Maggie would do anything to protect Penny. Shouldn’t she be as ruthless and, if she wasn’t, didn’t that mean she was doing less to save her own daughter? Looking at her blood smeared over the floor, however, Holly felt the beginnings of anger soaking through.

Maggie’s two bullets had been aimed directly at her. Holly had hesitated and now she wouldn’t. If Maggie had opened fire so readily it was less likely she could believe her story about Babysitter allowing her to have Penny back when she hadn’t killed Janet Braun.

She lifted her T-shirt again. The waistband of her jeans was saturated. Was she going to bleed out? She had to get to the first aid kit Maggie had mentioned. Or would that be another trick to misdirect her? Whether it was or not, the wound needed dressing now. If the bullet had fatally injured her there was nothing she could do. If not, Holly had to attend to it. She couldn’t deal with Maggie if she didn’t.

Penny was still howling, and she could hear her mother trying to console her. The discharge must have been pretty loud in there. Had Maggie really meant to kill Holly, or were the shots just a demonstration that she had the gun and was deadly serious about defending her child? But she hadn’t aimed low, like Holly had been considering. Both holes in the door had been at waist height.

If neighbours called the police, she would be taken in, sunrise would come and go, and she’d never see Abigail again. She had to use that to put herself back on her feet and to follow through with the instructions she’d been given. As far as Maggie was concerned, Holly only had a carving knife. That gave her an edge, and perhaps what she should be doing was further convincing Maggie of that until she was given the right moment to use her bullets.