The man hadn’t moved. Blood everywhere, a pool of it in the middle of the floor, rivulets running off in different directions, smears from the pool to the door.
Mark stood looking at him. The man’s chest was rising and falling in a shallow, uneven lurch. Still alive, then. Hands at his throat, eyes closed. He still had the dust mask on.
Mark thought.
His son had shot someone. With an illegal gun. But Nathan had been protecting his daddy. The men had broken in.
He checked the Browning. Safety off.
He crept towards the man on the floor. Gave him a tentative kick in the ribs. Grey let out a soft groan. Looked like he was concentrating on staying alive.
Mark squatted down on his haunches next to the man’s head. Blood was still oozing through the fingers at his neck, dripping from the stumps on his hand. So Nathan’s bullet had taken two fingers off his outstretched hand then ploughed into his neck. Good shot, Big Guy.
Mark nudged at Grey’s temple with the gun barrel.
‘Hey.’
The man’s breathing got louder, but that was it.
‘Look at me.’
A few seconds, then his eyelids fluttered open. Mark wanted to see something in those eyes, like you read in books. That he was evil, or scared, or sorry. Anything. But it didn’t work like that. They were just a man’s empty eyes.
Mark reached out and pulled the dust mask down from Grey’s face. The nose had been broken in the past, the mouth small, cluttered with brown teeth. The smell of hash and whisky mingled with the ferric tang of blood.
‘Can you speak?’
The man’s eyes moved to look at Mark.
‘Who do you work for?’
He blinked, made the slightest sideways motion with his head. Like Nathan when he didn’t want to admit he’d done something naughty.
Mark shook his head. ‘That’s not very clever.’
Grey coughed and blood spattered out his mouth, leaving a thin dribble down his chin.
Mark sucked his teeth. ‘I could phone an ambulance.’
The man’s eyes widened.
‘Then again, I might not.’
Grey just breathed. Ragged. In. Out.
‘Looks like you could do with one.’
Grey closed his eyes, like a long blink, then struggled to open them again. He took a while to focus.
‘Come on,’ Mark said. ‘I’ll make it easy for you.’
Another cough, more blood.
‘This is about my wife, right?’
A wheezy, rasping breath.
‘Who are you working for? Taylor?’
Nothing in his face gave anything away.
‘Fisher?’
His eyes moved, avoided Mark’s gaze.
‘You work for Fisher?’
He kept his eyes turned away.
Mark moved the muzzle of the Browning from Grey’s head and stuck it into his neck. He grunted in pain, rolled his head. That was all he could manage. He looked like he was about to die.
‘Tell me you work for Fisher, or I’ll make this pain so much worse.’
The man looked at Mark, then closed his eyes and nodded.
‘Tell me.’
His lips parted. He coughed blood.
‘Fisher.’
‘Did he kill my wife?’
Slight shake of the head.
‘Did you kill her?’
A more vigorous shake.
‘Then who did?’
The man’s eyes went to the door. Mark followed his gaze.
‘The other guy?’
A clear nod.
Mark wondered about that.
‘Is that the truth?’
A cough then a whisper. ‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
A slight shake of the head.
‘Why was Lauren killed?’
Mark pushed the Browning further into his neck wound. Grey’s body went rigid with pain and he spat blood.
‘What password were you talking about?’
‘Ambulance,’ he said.
‘No ambulance. Tell me first.’
‘Ambulance.’
Mark pushed the gun further. Grey choked, then closed his eyes.
Mark slapped his cheek. Nothing. Slapped him again. Checked his pulse.
Unconscious. Fuck.
Mark stood up and backed away.
He left the room. Flicked the safety on the gun and tucked it into the back of his jeans.
Went into the bedroom.
Nathan was sitting on the bed, head slumped. The wardrobe door was still open, the underwear drawer pulled out. The empty shammy cloth on the bed.
Mark thought about the man dying next door.
And Fisher.
‘Am I in trouble, Daddy?’
Mark sat down next to him and pulled him close, lifted his chin up. The look in Nathan’s eyes made him catch his breath. So much to deal with, only six years old.
‘No, you’re not in trouble. You’ve been a very brave boy. Do you understand?’
‘But I shot that man.’
‘He was hurting Daddy, wasn’t he? You helped me.’
Nathan reached out to Mark’s neck. Where the tip of the knife had gone in. Mark laid his hand over the boy’s and lifted it away. Both hands with bloody fingers. Mark dabbed at the wound. Didn’t seem to still be bleeding, only a nick really.
‘Is he a bad man?’
‘Yes, a very bad man.’
‘Is he dead? Did I kill him?’
‘He’s not dead, no.’
‘Then shouldn’t we get him some help?’
Mark tried to think straight. How would this play out? Should he call the police and tell the truth? He had to think about what would happen to Nathan. Maybe Mark should say that he shot the man. But then what would happen to him? Would Nathan be able to stick to a lie? He was terrible at lying at the best of times, but maybe Mark just thought that because he knew the boy so well, knew when he wasn’t telling the truth. No, a six-year-old wouldn’t hold up under police interrogation, no way. Then they would just be in even deeper shit.
They should keep Grey alive so he could link Fisher to everything. What was the link, though? Anyway, once Grey got better, he might change his story, deny all knowledge, just make out it was a simple break-in.
Mark rubbed Nathan’s shoulders.
‘Wait here.’
‘Don’t leave me, Daddy.’
‘I’m just going to check on the bad man, OK? I’ll be back in a few seconds.’
He walked through the flat and into the living room. His stomach lurched when he saw the mess again. Grey was still there in the middle of it, hadn’t moved.
Mark stared at the body. No movement. He walked across and crouched over the man. Laid a hand on his chest. Nothing. Put his hand over Grey’s mouth. Didn’t feel any breath. Took hold of the guy’s wrist and felt with his forefinger and thumb. Held him like that for a while.
No pulse.
Too late for an ambulance.
He couldn’t link Fisher and Taylor to Lauren’s murder now.
Mark saw his possible futures disappearing, paths vanishing in fog. He tried to see a way clear, but couldn’t.
‘Daddy?’
Mark turned.
Nathan was standing in the doorway, staring at the body.
‘Should we get an ambulance for him?’
Mark ran a hand through his hair and went over to the boy. Tried to turn him away from the corpse, but met resistance. Nathan was transfixed.
‘Look at me,’ Mark said.
Nathan turned slowly. ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ The boy’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I killed him.’
Mark pulled him into a hug. Tried to imagine what was going through his mind. What could he possibly tell him that would make this go away? Nothing. That was the truth of it. Nothing could undo this.
‘I already told you, Big Guy, you didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘But I killed that man.’
‘You had to. It’s called self-defence. Do you know what that is?’
A slight shake of the head amongst the sniffles and tears.
Mark lifted Nathan’s chin up again. ‘It’s when you have to stop someone from hurting you or hurting someone you love. You have to do it, you don’t have any choice.’
Nathan frowned and stole a glance at the corpse again.
‘It means it wasn’t your fault.’
Nathan’s breath was ragged as his chest heaved. ‘So I won’t get into trouble with the police?’
Mark shook his head, a dumb, exaggerated movement. ‘I promise, you won’t get in any trouble with the police.’
He tried to think about that. He wished it was that simple. His mind was scrambled, he couldn’t think straight. He wanted to reassure the boy some more, say something that would make a difference. But what the hell could he say?
‘Should we call the police now, Daddy? Tell them what’s happened.’
Mark frowned. He needed time to work things out.
‘Not yet, Big Guy.’
He gave Nathan another big, long cuddle, then stood up. Went to the sofa and picked up his phone. Pressed a number and waited till he heard a familiar voice.
‘We need help.’