It was rarely used, this barrier, normally unmanned, cars simply coming and going. But it was all change now. A security guard, young with rippling muscles under a too-snug shirt, waiting with a flat face, a steady stare, like he could dissuade a gunman by his expression alone. ‘Here we go again,’ murmured Rhys. ‘Yup.’ Aden eased the car forward, suppressing a sigh as the silver Picasso in front stalled, the driver fumbling to restart. ‘Starting to feel like I live here.’ It was early, the sun still low across the bay, but it was warm. They had predicted storms on the news, had said that the sky would split apart, bringing with it torrential rain and sheet lightning. It had felt like a reprieve – the thought of rain, a break from the heat. But it hadn’t come, there had been no reprieve, but instead a constant, relentless march of heat. Aden drummed his fingers against the outside of the car door, feeling the pads of his fingertips burn. He and Rhys had worked the night shift.
