Peering through the blinds, Andy saw that his dad was at long last striding towards them.

Andy and Dylan hurriedly tucked their phones away.

‘I’m sorry you ended up stuck here,’ Detective Frank Freeman said as he walked into the conference room.

‘Dad, we need to tell you something,’ Andy said.

‘Whatever you need to say,’ he replied, frowning from his son to Dylan. ‘You can say to me in the official interview room. Let’s go.’

Frank led the boys across the seventh floor to one of the windowless rooms used to interrogate suspects. Furnished with a table and plastic chairs, its walls were bare except for the video camera near the ceiling. Andy knew its flashing red light meant their conversation was being recorded.

‘Sit,’ Frank ordered, slapping a folder down on the table.

Andy and Dylan glanced at each other and sat.

‘So,’ Frank said, sipping a coffee, ‘the two men in your video came in here first thing this morning.’ He let out a tired sigh. ‘Wanna know why?’

‘To give themselves up?’ Andy asked again hopefully.

‘No,’ Frank said. ‘They came in to clear their names and to file charges.’

Andy’s mouth dropped open. Dylan looked just as surprised.

‘File charges?’ Andy said in disbelief.

‘Against the two of you.’ Frank pressed his hands to his temples like he had a headache. ‘Since then I’ve been doing my best to get you both out of the mess you’ve made.’

‘Mess?’ Andy said disbelievingly.

Frank nodded. ‘You both have to do exactly what I tell you or—’

The blood had drained from Andy’s and Dylan’s faces. All thoughts of what they needed to tell Frank were temporarily forgotten.

‘Or?’ Andy prodded in a small voice.

‘Or,’ his dad said, ‘you’re both going to be charged and I’ll have to place you under arrest.’