Chapter 74

TAKEN

It came through the ceiling. Tash was napping on the sofa at the time. Jasmine was in her bedroom. They were unprepared for it. There was no chance to escape.

Her eyes snapped open.

She gasped, holding her breath.

Her skin crawled.

She kicked up her legs and threw out her arms.

All of this happened in less than a second.

And it all happened as the ceiling collapsed.

Debris rained down. Plaster fell in chunks. Dust showered, filling Tash’s eyes and mouth.

Something dark fell from the hole in the ceiling. A black flash. It coiled on the floor and sprang up, becoming a shadow that blocked out the light. The darkness flapped, as if it were a cloak. Faces writhed in the folds of the blackness. They stretched as if in agony. And Tash was convinced she could hear them scream.

The dark shape then narrowed and took on a form—the form of a man.

All this happened in just two seconds.

By then, Tash had let out her breath. Her eyes burned with dust. She spat it out of her mouth and sneezed it from her nose.

An arm reached from the dark shape and grabbed Tash around the throat, and the grip was cold and clammy. It lifted her. It tossed her. She sailed across the room. Everything wheeled. She smashed into the wall. Stars erupted before her eyes. Her head throbbed with pain. She fell and hit the floor, dizzy and disorientated.

And then a voice said, “Seer bitch. I’d kill you if I could. I’d kill you both.”

Her vision swam. A chalk-white face blurred before her eyes. It became three, four, five faces. It flickered. It was hazy.

The voice echoed in her head. “But I’m killing your offspring first. Then I’ll be back to see you suffer. Taste your grief, you whore. Say bye to your baby girl.”

The darkness swept away, letting the light return and leaving her flat fuzzy and unclear.

Knowledge suddenly overwhelmed her. It was as if masses of information had been downloaded into her brain. For some reason, she knew the voice. She knew its dangers. She knew the threat it made was real. She knew Jasmine was in danger.

She reached out and cried her daughter’s name, but only a moan came from her. It was a mother’s desperate lament.

And when a spiteful, cruel laugh drowned out Jasmine’s scream, the horror of it was too much for Tash, and she passed out.

 

Faultless had walked back the way he’d come and found a narrow path, crammed with weeds and waist-high grass.

He followed it. Stinging nettles pricked his skin. Rats scuttled over his feet. Thorns tugged at his clothes. But he made it through and found himself at the rear of the lock-ups.

A footpath ran behind the garages, hemmed in by a high wall. He smelled beer and tobacco. Cans of booze peppered the tall grass. He saw syringes and used condoms.

He started walking, making his way along the footpath. He tried to count the lock-ups as he went. He’d walked back ten garages before finding the alley that led to the path. Ten garages from the one where Jason Thomas, the Sharpleys, and Luke Ellis had been murdered. Ten garages from the police car.

He kicked his way through the undergrowth. Thorns and nettles filled the path. He crushed beer cans beneath his feet. There were cigarette ends everywhere. He saw aerosol cans. He saw plastic bags filled with glue. He saw knives and empty bullet casings.

He walked and he counted—eight, seven, six, five . . .

Ten garages.

. . . three, two—

“Hey you,” said a voice.

He turned.

He cursed.

The two cops sitting in their car outside the garage had decided to make a nuisance of themselves. They must have spotted him and followed.

“What can I do for you, gents?” he said.

The two cops came to a halt five yards away from Faultless. They looked at him and then looked at something one of them was holding in his hand.

They were checking him out.

“What you got there, fellas?” he said.

One of the coppers held up an iPhone. At five yards away, Faultless could make out the image on the screen.

It was him. A photo from the dust jacket of Graveyard Of Empires.

“You know who this is?” said the iPhone copper.

“Is it your very handsome boyfriend?” said Faultless.

“You wish, poof,” said the second copper.

The iPhone officer gave him a look before staring at Faultless again.

The cop said, “Incident room just sent this over. You’re either Charlie Faultless or a very good match. Which one is it?”

“Very good match,” said Faultless.

“I think you’re him. And Detective Chief Superintendent Don Wilks wants to talk to you,” said the copper, still holding up his iPhone.

“I’m not sure I want to talk to him.”

“Whatever, mate. You’re under arrest for the murder of Anthony David Graveney in 1996.”

The coppers stomped through the tall grass towards Faultless.

He bunched his fists, ready.