Hughes walked over to his car, and stopped by the boot, looking across the row of cars. He took in Hannah's little-girly 206, Jones' crappy Honda, and Goodison's sub-standard old Audi. Finally his own navy-blue BMW, he thought, the best car in the car park by a long way. This time, he failed to suppress a snigger as he thought coldly, and Colin's bus stop.

Funny that, he thought. Only two, the best and the crappiest, are ever going to be used again. Except the bus stop won't be used for another… hell, is that the time? 5 on the dot. So two hours, until the bus service wakes up. That means I've got four hours if I'm lucky. No one comes in at this time. Hunter normally gets in early though, crazy bastard - the day shift's long enough as it is.

Better get going. Hughes put his hand in his back pocket.

Keys. Where are the keys? Damn it. He checked the other back pocket, and then the rest of his pockets. Where? Where the fu-oh. Here they are. Bloody hell, in my coat all along.

He put the key in the lock, turned, and got in. He shut the door, turned the ignition - Hadn't that already happened tonight? - and drove off.

Well, he thought, as he turned left out of the car park, I've done it. Maybe more than I meant to, but what the hell. Colin's dead, I'm happy. Man, killing him was worth it after all that.

They had always been just young, ambitious pricks, all of them. Who was going to miss them, after all? Hannah, a boyfriend? Which one? Hughes chuckled. Colin – who would miss a spineless little shit like him? Jones – not worth missing. Had too many issues. Dan – well, Hughes assumed he had a girlfriend because of how pissed he always seemed to look when he got to work at half 12. Still, someone had to lose.

Feeling pleased and self-confident at his escape, Hughes accelerated away up the dual carriageway. He had a long drive ahead.

No one saw me. No one saw.

As he reached the motorway ten minutes later, Hughes' eyelids were growing heavy.

Three and a half hours later, Mark Hunter pulled up in the hospital's car park. He'd arrived early to sort out some paperwork with Hughes, and he finished a call from his wife, asking him what did he want for tea. He sat in the car picking up his voicemail for a few minutes (his pre-work routine), and finished his fag. Flicking the butt out of the window, he rolled it up and got out.

Hughes' car wasn't there. He must have got a lift or something. He stood thinking, would Sandra like one of those 206's? Nice cars, those.

He'd have to ask Hannah (he couldn't imagine Jon or Dan owning one) how much they were. So thinking, he turned and walked towards the hospital. As he neared the screen doors, he saw something on the floor by the ward. As Rob Green's Mini pulled up (what's he doing this early?) Mark Hunter ran through the doors, not seeing Jon Jones' corpse outside the office. He ran down the corridor towards where Hannah lay, only half-conscious. As he crouched down, and took in the bloody trail leading from the ward door to the back of her head, she seemed to see him as well. She rolled from her side onto her back, and groaned with the effort.

Rob jogged through the doors after him, sensing that something was up. He, however, saw the body outside the office, and the knife in its hand. "Fuck…" he muttered under his breath.

"Hughes!"Hunter yelled from down the corridor. "Get Hughes here now, Rob! And call the police!"