There was no room for being tired. Hilary ran down the stairs into the cellar, grabbed the torch from the top of the dryer. No need for the main light. At the back of the cellar she ran a hand over the makeshift top they’d put on the old kitchen units, units that David thought only concealed half used tins of paint and a tub of random nails. She pulled the long screwdriver from the cupboard and set to pulling the kickboard off from under the cupboards. David had never even noticed it appear. Why should he? One last wrench and it came off. So easy. How simple it would have been for anyone to do it.

She dragged the bag from under the cupboard, strangely surprised to see that it looked the same as the day she had shoved it under there. The top was dusty, and she hesitated, looked back up the stairs to the cellar door, and then pulled the zip. It was all still there. £38,539 in cash, one handgun and Victor’s finger, vacuum sealed in a jar.

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