climbed into her car and turned the key in the ignition. The car turned over once, and then stalled. Sarah glanced in the rear view mirror – the man was beginning to run towards her car. Heart pounding, Sarah turned the key again.
‘ Come on !’ she urged the car, hands shaking.
With a choke, the car started, blue smoke belching from the exhaust. Sarah turned the vehicle around in the street, glass and debris tumbling from its roof and bonnet as she fought to keep the vehicle under control. She swerved to avoid the man who had now stepped out onto the road. Sarah screamed, pushing her foot down hard on the accelerator as he tried to grab hold of the car as it drove by. The sound of his fingers scratching against the paintwork, scrabbling for a hand-hold made Sarah’s skin crawl before she shot past him.
At the end of the avenue, she turned left, forcing herself to slow down so any police cars didn’t stop her. Somehow, she didn’t think they’d be able to protect her from the stranger in the street. Catching a flash in the mirror, she looked up to see a fire engine and police car entering the road – both too late to save the house, while the stranger stood on the pavement and watched her, polishing his glasses, before he turned and ran back to a parked car.
Slamming her foot on the accelerator, she drove a weaving course through the suburb and, when she could no longer hear the sirens, she pulled over and took out her phone.
Chapter 7
Bright shafts of sunlight broke through the window blinds as a crow cawed noisily from the tree outside. A van drove past, the tyres splashing through puddles of water from the melting ice. A car engine was being choked to death in the background, the sound of kids playing in a school yard carrying a mile down the road. The phone rang, loudly, coarsely.
Dan moved slightly and groaned, buried under a blanket thrown messily across the bed. The pub was always a bad idea. It was just so hard to leave.
‘Whoever it is, go away.’
The phone ignored him, persistent in its attempt to gain his attention.
‘For fuck’s sake!’ He threw back the covers and swung his legs onto the floor. He stood up, slowly, carefully, staggered over to the desk in the corner and reached over for the telephone. ‘What?’
‘Dan, it’s Sarah – I need your help.’ She sounded like she was out of breath, traffic going past in the background. Dan grabbed hold of the receiver tight, sobering up in an instant.
‘Slow down. Where are you? What happened? Are you alright?’
‘The man who killed Peter – Dan, I know it was him! The house exploded – there’s nothing left!’ Sarah broke off, choking back a sob. ‘He saw me – he tried to stop me!’ she broke off. ‘I think he’s looking for me.’
Dan thought quickly. ‘Sarah, listen to me. Listen to me! Twenty-seven Coltsfoot Street – got that? Right – I’m here. You can park on the driveway – it’s sheltered from the street and the car won’t be seen.’
‘I can’t!’
‘You can, Sarah. You have to. You’ve got to get out of there. He’s got a car too and he’s going to be looking for you. He must’ve realised you have a connection with that house.’
‘I know, I know. Okay Dan. I’ll leave now. Please don’t go anywhere – wait for me!’
‘I will. Now, get going.’ Dan replaced the receiver.
After a thirty-second shower, he dressed in faded jeans, black t-shirt, black sweater and his favourite boots. He walked down the hallway and into the spare bedroom. Opening a walk-in wardrobe, he groped around on the top shelf until his fingers found what they were looking for. Pulling the box closer, he reached up and pulled it towards him, lowering it to the ground. Lifting the lid, he pulled out his passport and looked at the fading immigration stamps on the yellowed pages. He put it back, lifted up a bundle of papers and checked – the gun was still there, unloaded, oiled and ready, the bullets wrapped in cotton
‘ Come on !’ she urged the car, hands shaking.
With a choke, the car started, blue smoke belching from the exhaust. Sarah turned the vehicle around in the street, glass and debris tumbling from its roof and bonnet as she fought to keep the vehicle under control. She swerved to avoid the man who had now stepped out onto the road. Sarah screamed, pushing her foot down hard on the accelerator as he tried to grab hold of the car as it drove by. The sound of his fingers scratching against the paintwork, scrabbling for a hand-hold made Sarah’s skin crawl before she shot past him.
At the end of the avenue, she turned left, forcing herself to slow down so any police cars didn’t stop her. Somehow, she didn’t think they’d be able to protect her from the stranger in the street. Catching a flash in the mirror, she looked up to see a fire engine and police car entering the road – both too late to save the house, while the stranger stood on the pavement and watched her, polishing his glasses, before he turned and ran back to a parked car.
Slamming her foot on the accelerator, she drove a weaving course through the suburb and, when she could no longer hear the sirens, she pulled over and took out her phone.
Chapter 7
Bright shafts of sunlight broke through the window blinds as a crow cawed noisily from the tree outside. A van drove past, the tyres splashing through puddles of water from the melting ice. A car engine was being choked to death in the background, the sound of kids playing in a school yard carrying a mile down the road. The phone rang, loudly, coarsely.
Dan moved slightly and groaned, buried under a blanket thrown messily across the bed. The pub was always a bad idea. It was just so hard to leave.
‘Whoever it is, go away.’
The phone ignored him, persistent in its attempt to gain his attention.
‘For fuck’s sake!’ He threw back the covers and swung his legs onto the floor. He stood up, slowly, carefully, staggered over to the desk in the corner and reached over for the telephone. ‘What?’
‘Dan, it’s Sarah – I need your help.’ She sounded like she was out of breath, traffic going past in the background. Dan grabbed hold of the receiver tight, sobering up in an instant.
‘Slow down. Where are you? What happened? Are you alright?’
‘The man who killed Peter – Dan, I know it was him! The house exploded – there’s nothing left!’ Sarah broke off, choking back a sob. ‘He saw me – he tried to stop me!’ she broke off. ‘I think he’s looking for me.’
Dan thought quickly. ‘Sarah, listen to me. Listen to me! Twenty-seven Coltsfoot Street – got that? Right – I’m here. You can park on the driveway – it’s sheltered from the street and the car won’t be seen.’
‘I can’t!’
‘You can, Sarah. You have to. You’ve got to get out of there. He’s got a car too and he’s going to be looking for you. He must’ve realised you have a connection with that house.’
‘I know, I know. Okay Dan. I’ll leave now. Please don’t go anywhere – wait for me!’
‘I will. Now, get going.’ Dan replaced the receiver.
After a thirty-second shower, he dressed in faded jeans, black t-shirt, black sweater and his favourite boots. He walked down the hallway and into the spare bedroom. Opening a walk-in wardrobe, he groped around on the top shelf until his fingers found what they were looking for. Pulling the box closer, he reached up and pulled it towards him, lowering it to the ground. Lifting the lid, he pulled out his passport and looked at the fading immigration stamps on the yellowed pages. He put it back, lifted up a bundle of papers and checked – the gun was still there, unloaded, oiled and ready, the bullets wrapped in cotton
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