The bumper catches his hip — a violent, stunning blow that lifts him off his feet. The world spins, cold and bright and chaotic. The impact knocks the phone from his hand, Craig’s voice still crackling faintly through the speaker.
Phil hits the bonnet, the wind slamming out of him, then tumbles — over, down, hard onto the pavement. Pain blooms sharp through his ribs, his wrist, the side of his face.
For a second, there’s no sound but his heartbeat.
Then the car screeches away, red taillights vanishing into the night.
Phil lies there, the air burning in his lungs, the taste of iron in his mouth. He tries to move, but everything hurts. His leg feels wrong — heavy, disconnected. His vision swims.
On the ground beside him, his phone is still on. Craig’s voice, tinny with panic:
“Phil? Phil! What the hell was that? Phil, answer me!”
Darkness.
Chapter 55
TOM
“Hello?” I say, through the door.
“Tom?” a female voice replies back to me.
Emma.
I open the door with the chain still on because tonight has already featured waterboarding, a head injury, and an unexpected cameo from a teaspoon. I’m not taking chances.
“Tom!” Emma breathes, hair wild, cheeks flushed, like she’s jogged here through several plot twists. “Thank God.”
Of course it’s Emma. Midnight and panic are absolutely her brand.
I slip the chain, let her in. She glances over my shoulder as if danger might be reclining on my sofa in a robe. “I’m so sorry for coming unannounced, I know it’s late, I’ve been sending you messages on Facebook, but you didn’t reply and then Pete—” She stops, presses a hand to her chest. “Can I sit? I’m suddenly very aware of my heart.”
“Join the club,” I say, closing the door.
We move to the living room. I’m aware I look a state — soaked shirt changed for a hoodie, towel-mangled hair, bruise blooming beneath my eye like a bad secret. I perch on the arm of a chair because sitting properly feels like a commitment.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Pete called me,” Emma says, voice tight. “Half an hour ago. He sounded… I’ve never heard him like that. Panicked. He said James was ‘going insane’ — those were his words — and then I heard someone shouting and the phone went dead.”
I’m already reaching for my phone. “We call the police.”
“No,” she says immediately, too quickly.
My thumb hovers. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not on good terms with them,” she says, with the airy defensiveness of someone describing a bad Tinder date rather than a public institution.
“Oh, you too.” I say, thinking of my similar conversation with Sam earlier this evening, and then the irritation bubbles up. “No one seems to want to get the police involved these days, even though it is literally the most sensible thing to do.”
Emma’s chin lifts. “Yes, well I have a bit of…history with them.”
“Yes, so I hear. Two years for fraud, wasn’t it?”
“Look, yes, I’ve done stupid things. Some desperate things. I grew up very cushioned and then the cushion was ripped away, and turns out I don’t have the soft skills for poverty. I made bad choices to keep myself… afloat.” She flutters a hand. “That’s not who I am now.”
“Right, but also — haven’t you just been charged with arson?” I add.
