Zack felt his stomach lurch into his throat as his car came to a sudden stop outside the village shop. Next to him in the driver's seat, Sophie laughed at the look on his face.

"Did you think I was going to lose control and crash your baby?" she asked, amused by his reaction to her driving – she wasn't about to admit it, but her own stomach had given a bit of a jolt when the car stopped more quickly than she expected; the brakes on the Aston Martin were much more responsive than those on her own car.

"You came close a few times," Zack said once his stomach had settled back into its usual location.

"Rubbish," Sophie scoffed. "I was in complete control. I'm a very good driver."

Zack looked at his friend sceptically. "How do you explain your car then?" he asked. "I don't think I've ever seen it looking like it's capable of passing an M.O.T.."

"It might not be pretty to look at, we can't all afford fancy sports cars, but it runs, without any problems, and it's never even come close to failing an M.O.T.." Sophie was proud of that. "I'll be back shortly," she said, throwing open the door at her side. "I haven't had a chance to stock up your fridge, I've had too much other stuff to do, and I don't much fancy going hungry tonight." Before Zack could say or ask anything she had the door closed and was across the pavement to the door of the shop.

While Sophie browsed the aisles in the shop, Zack did his best to make himself comfortable in the passenger seat. It wasn't easy because the last batch of pain relief the hospital had given him had worn off, and he could feel a multitude of tiny pinpricks of fire shooting through his back where the shotgun pellets had struck him. The pain was more intense where his back pressed against the seat behind him. His injuries were minor compared to those suffered by Isobel, but he couldn't help wishing for a magical remedy to heal them.

"Bloody hell!" The profanity came from Rod Baylor; the mechanic was standing outside the pub with the rest of the smokers. "That's that Wild bastard, isn't it," he said, pointing down the road to the Aston Martin outside the shop.

"Yeah, looks like," Gary Fredericks agreed as he puffed on his cigarette. "He's the only one in the village with a car like that. What the hell's he doing out of hospital?"

"How'm I s'posed to know?" Baylor asked. He looked around at his fellow smokers, but none of them showed any sign of knowing the answer. "I guess Malcolm didn't do a good enough job of putting him out of business. Useless bastard!" he swore. "He can't have been more than a dozen feet from Wild with a shotgun and he still couldn't manage to kill him."

"I suppose you'd have walked up to Wild, shoved the shotgun in his balls and blown his dick off," Gary said contemptuously.

"Damn right." Rod turned to Sergeant Mitchell, who had come out from the pub to see what was going on. "I thought you said he was going to be in hospital till you had the evidence to prove he's the killer, that our wives and daughters are safe. Why's he out of hospital, and what's he doing back here?"

"Not a bloody clue," Mitchell admitted. It was clear that he was as unhappy with things as the smokers were. "I'm not in charge of the case anymore, some DI from town is, I'm not even in the loop. Did you know he was being released?" he asked of Melissa, who had followed him out with her drink and was now watching and listening to everything that was happening.

"No, I didn't have a clue," Melissa said. "I thought he'd be in for at least a couple more days, so did Inspector Harrison as far as I know," she continued, pre-emptying the next question.

"What good are you then, either of you," Rod demanded. "You guys are supposed to protect us and our families from assholes like him, but you don't even know when he's around and when he ain't. If we hadn't been out here and seen him, who knows how many girls he could have attacked before we knew he was back. Someone needs to do something about him."

""Who's that gonna be, you?"

Rod rounded on Gary. "Yeah, maybe it will be," he said sharply. "If the cops ain't gonna protect our wives and daughters, someone's gonna have to, and it might as well be me."

"You, ha!" Gary was openly contemptuous. "You're a worse shot than Malcolm, at least he managed to hit Wild, you can't hit a barn door at twenty paces."

"You can't talk like this guys," Melissa spoke up, while thinking that it shouldn't be up to her to tell the group that what they were talking about was inappropriate, Mitchell should. "If anything happens to Mr Wild, you'll be the ones we come and talk to."

If he'd known how he was being talking about up the road, Zack would have had a harder time getting comfortable. As it was, he was uncomfortable enough to be glad when Sophie returned and slid behind the wheel again, after putting the shopping she had bought in the boot.

"What did you buy?" Zack asked once Sophie had started the engine and pulled away from the kerb. "It looked like about half the shop."

"Not hardly," Sophie said with a shake of her head. "I know it's only a little village shop, so I shouldn't expect much, but the selection in there is terrible. I don't know how the people around here cope with it. I was able to get enough food so we can eat tonight, and some stuff for tomorrow, but we're going to need to go into town tomorrow and visit a proper shop."

"So how come you had two bulging carrier bags?" Zack felt the eyes of the smokers outside the pub on him as they headed past but ignored them as best he could. After all that had happened, it didn't surprise him that his fellow villagers were watching him when they could.

"I got cleaning supplies. I used up most of what you had in the house this afternoon, trying to make the place look presentable, in between driving to and from home, and spending what seems like hours on the phone trying to sort out one thing or another for you."

Zack looked at his friend for a moment, but decided against asking what she was talking about; he had neither the energy nor the enthusiasm necessary to care.

"Mr Wild."

Zack jumped visibly. He had just grabbed the two carrier bags of shopping from the boot, having endured a heart-stopping moment when he thought Sophie was going to drive straight into the door of his garage, when his name was called. It was only his good reflexes that kept him from dropping the shopping and dooming him and Sophie to a meal made up of whatever he had left in the fridge.

With his heart beating more quickly than he liked, and a firm grip on his bags, Zack turned around to see who it was that had hailed him. He didn't think he was in any danger, it was unlikely that someone who intended attacking him would alert him to their presence before doing so, but that didn't keep him from being nervously alert. He only relaxed when he saw his neighbour approaching slowly, looking as nervous as he felt.

"Hello, Mrs Hawkins, how are you"

"I'm fine, thank you," Constance said, stopping a few paces from Zack. "How are you? I didn't expect to see you out of hospital so soon, especially after the way you looked when they took you away in the helicopter. I wanted to come and see you, to apologise for everything, but it's such a long bus journey."

"It's okay, I wouldn't have expected you to put yourself through such a journey," Zack told her, touched that she would even think of doing such a thing. They had spoken on a number of occasions since he moved to the village, and on a number of subjects, but he would not have thought them friendly enough for her to visit him in hospital "I'm as well as can be expected under the circumstances, better in fact, given how my friend fared. And there's nothing for you to apologise for."

"There is," Constance said with a sad look. "If I hadn't told Sergeant Mitchell I thought it was you I saw driving down the road after Lucy Goulding left you, I don't think you would be in the position you are. I'm sure it was that that made him think you are the one who killed those girls. I'm sorry. If I hadn't led Lewis to make that assumption, you wouldn't have the whole village thinking you're a murderer, and you wouldn't have been attacked."

"There's no need for you to apologise," Zack told her. He couldn't remember the last time he heard someone apologise for telling the police what they believed. "You only did what you thought was the right thing, there's nothing wrong with that. I'm sure the sergeant would have decided that I was the killer sooner or later, with or without you; he much prefers the idea that the killer is someone he doesn't know, rather than someone he does. I don't imagine he's alone in thinking that way either."

Despite the reassurance she was given, Constance still felt the need to apologise, and nothing Zack said would stop her.

"That was nice of her," Sophie said as she shut the door behind Zack.

Zack nodded. "Certainly was."

"I like her." Sophie nodded as though she had come to a decision. "She's a nice lady."

"I have to agree," Zack said. "She's one of the few in the village to actually make an effort to get to know me."

"She said she was a friend as well as a neighbour when she came round this afternoon. She didn't say as much, but I think she was curious about who I was and what I was doing here. When she found out I was cleaning up after Sunday night she stayed to help; she might be old, but boy can she scrub." As though the house was hers rather than Zack's, she led the way along the passage to the kitchen, where she took the carriers and put them on the side so she could unpack the shopping. "If it had been left to me, I think you'd still have stains on the carpet, but she got them out; just as well she came round and helped actually, or I'd never have had the time to sort out anything else."

"Like what?"

"Like arranging for your furniture to be picked up so it can be re-upholstered, they're coming to get it day after tomorrow, so're the window people - soonest they could make it given where you live. And I've ordered you a new TV and laptop, same models as the ones you had before, well, same makes anyway, newer models."

Zack stared at his friend suspiciously for several long moments before saying anything. "Thanks for doing all that; one question, though, how can you afford to buy me a new TV and laptop – not that I won't pay you back – I was under the impression you're just about permanently skint."

"Not quite. I've got enough money to get by, it's not like I'm gonna starve or anything. Once I clear a couple of outstanding debts I'll be fine. I didn't pay for anything, though." Sophie grinned cheekily as she took something from her pocket and held it out. "Here, you'll want this back."

Only when he took the object did Zack realise that it was his credit card, which had been left at home when he was taken to the hospital.

"You really shouldn't leave your credit card lying around where just anyone can find it, especially when you're not the only one that knows the pin number."

Zack slipped the card into his pocket. "If I'd known what was going to happen, I'd have made sure I kept my wallet in my pocket." Taking the first items that had been unpacked, he began putting them away. "Do I need to check my bill when it comes in to see what you're tried to sneak onto it?"

"You can if you want," Sophie said unconcernedly. "I didn't put much on it, just a few little things, call them a fee for babysitting you until it's safe for you to be left on your own again."

Zack laughed at that. He wasn't actually worried that Sophie might have used his credit card to buy things for herself, he knew her well enough to know that she probably hadn't bought anything at all, and if she had it would be something he could easily afford.