The armed response unit turned up in a bluster of flashing lights and shouting, guys in bulletproof gear clumping around and pointing rifles.
Mark was slumped against the wall next to Ruth, his good arm pulling Nathan close. He pointed a thumb in the direction of the beach, then heard a crackle on one officer’s walkie-talkie, Ferguson’s tinny voice saying something he couldn’t make out.
Mark felt Nathan tense at the sight of all the police, and held on tight.
The officers stomped across the sand, leaving one silent guy watching over the three of them, rifle at ease.
After a few minutes, another police van trundled along the prom. Guys in white overalls jumped out with bags of gear and headed for the beach.
Where the hell was the ambulance?
With the adrenalin ebbing away, Mark started to feel faint from the pain in his shoulder. Should he press something against it, stop the bleeding? That’s what they did in the movies.
He breathed through clenched teeth, concentrated on the molecules of air coming and going, mingling with his bloodstream and keeping him alive.
Then at last an ambulance.
‘Thank fuck.’ Under his breath so Nathan didn’t hear.
Two paramedics checked him out, gave him a painkilling injection and fussed him into the back of the ambulance.
‘These two come as well,’ he said.
Ruth and Nathan clambered up and sat next to him. Mark held on to Nathan and looked at Ruth. She put on a weak smile. She still hadn’t spoken since she’d shot Fisher.
Ferguson came over as a second ambulance appeared, and she pointed the medical team towards the beach, where Blue was lying. The paramedics scuttled off with a stretcher and an oxygen mask.
Ferguson turned to Mark. She had a thin smile on her face.
‘When you’re sorted, DI Green and I will need to talk to you at the station.’
‘Fine.’
‘All three of you.’
Mark sighed. ‘I want to keep Nathan out of it as much as possible.’
Ferguson nodded and closed the ambulance doors.