to spin her a yarn.’
‘A desert island for a year?’ sneered Brook. ‘And she believed it?’
‘We promised to make her famous. She believed what she wanted to hear and Adele was very convincing. I’d be filming the whole time, enough for a documentary, maybe even a movie. .’
‘And that’s why you all had to have passports, even though you had no intention of leaving the country.’
‘To convince Becky, yes.’ He chuckled. ‘Actually I’m glad. I feel better knowing she betrayed me. It makes deceiving her that much sweeter.’
‘Deception won’t be at the top of the charge-sheet, Ray, I promise you.’
Ray shrugged. ‘I had to teach her a lesson, Damen, while there was still time. See her off to her Maker with a little humility in her bones. You should’ve been there. The others had taken their pill and gone to prepare, but I switched Becky’s to Rohypnol — enough to paralyse her but not enough that we couldn’t have some fun first.
‘You’ve heard of those tribes who pluck out the beating heart of their enemies then eat it while it’s still pumping to assume their power. Well, that’s the way we felt — Becky and me. When she opened her eyes and realised what was happening, man, what a rush. Deity? Fucking A — I was God to her, Damen. I put life inside her and then took it away.’
Brook’s eyes bored into him.
‘Don’t look at me like that, she had it coming. She was a nasty, spiteful bitch and I swore that one day I’d look into her eyes as she died and fuck her. And I always keep my promises.’ Ray took a deep breath and looked into the distance. ‘And boy, was it something — the best I ever had — even better than Yvette, the night after Russell hanged himself. Filmed it too. You want to see it?’
‘I’ll save it for your trial.’
Ray’s eyes widened. ‘My trial? That’s very tempting — almost worth giving myself up so I can be there to watch it.’
Brook stood, pushing his chair back. ‘All this high-minded talk about helping people with their pain and all you are is a tawdry little rapist.’
‘Careful, Damen.’ Ray held a dramatic finger over the keyboard. Brook took a step towards him but stopped, darting a glance at Terri on the monitor. ‘Sit down,’ commanded Ray.
Brook stood, glaring at Ray, aching to put his hands on him. Ray moved his digit closer to the keyboard.
‘Did you rape Adele as well?’ Brook asked.
Ray’s lip curled. ‘Why are you so vulgar! Adele was my friend. I gave her dignity.’
Brook looked across at the image of his unconscious daughter, thinking the unthinkable. Then a minor glitch on the picture darkened his features.
‘What are you doing?’
‘It’s brilliant,’ said Brook. ‘I can’t deny it.’ He raised the glass. ‘To Deity.’ Then he flung the contents into Ray’s eyes as he leaped for the laptop. Ray gasped as the whisky hit him but he was able to sway back towards the keyboard, crashing his hand on to the Enter button.
Brook grabbed him, his face contorted, fist drawn back to strike. ‘Where is she?’
‘I didn’t want that, Damen,’ said Ray, trying to break free. ‘You killed her, not me.’ He ducked out of the imagined assault but Brook had already thrown him to the floor and was bolting up the stairs.
‘Terri!’ he shouted. Brook grabbed the handle on his bedroom door. It was locked. He ran to the end of the corridor, catching sight of Ray through an upstairs window, laptop under his arm, jumping into the VW. Without giving it a second thought, Brook turned and hurtled towards the bedroom door, flinging himself against the frame. The door buckled but didn’t give, so Brook backed up again and this time literally ran through the door.
Moments later, Brook regained consciousness on the floor by his bed, lying amongst shards of lacquered wood. He was aware of blood streaming down his face from several cuts as well as his stitches, which had burst open. He put up a hand to staunch the flow only that he might see better. With a sickening feeling, he saw the bed was empty. He’d been watching a recording of his daughter immobilised in his bedroom and played over and over on a loop. It could’ve been filmed at any time that day.
Brook scrambled to his feet and careered down the stairs in two strides, falling at the bottom. He jumped up, swept the car keys into his hand and staggered to the car, jerking the BMW’s engine into life. He roared to the junction at the bottom of the hill, already debating left or right in his befuddled brain.
At the junction, he turned left and tore through the village at top speed. Within seconds he was out of Hartington and hurtling through dark country lanes. A mile away, on the other side of the valley he saw another car’s lights and gave chase. A minute later, cresting the brow of a hill, two minor roads — one left, one right — sheared off into the darkness.
Brook did a quick double-take and, seeing retreating headlights at the bottom of a long dip, hung a left in pursuit. He realised where Ray was headed but it was getting harder and harder to follow because his vision was blurring and he was drifting towards unconsciousness.
He reached the bottom of the long dip and began to climb. A rabbit caught in the headlights was squashed as Brook pushed the accelerator closer to the floor. It was no use. His head began to sag and the fog in his brain closed in around his vision. He almost crashed headlong into a drystone wall but managed to wrest the wheel round in time and screech to a rubber-burning halt.
He came round moments later, woken by a loud explosion, and saw a bright flash of light in the distance. He gripped the steering-wheel harder and flung the gearstick into first, covering the 500 yards to the junction in seconds.
He staggered out of the car. The wall at the junction had been wrecked at high speed, evidenced by the black tyre- and bright green paint-marks on some of the displaced stones. Several layers of limestone had been dislodged but the VW was nowhere to be seen. When Brook clambered on to the remnants of the wall he saw the flames fifty feet below, down a steep shoulder of land that ended in a dry gulley. Sheep and new lambs were scampering for dear life away from the burning debris.
Brook, however, half-ran and half-fell towards the fireball of blackening metal. Once there, he ran to the blazing boot and, covering his hand with no more than a handkerchief, tried to pull it open.
‘Terri.’ He screamed with pain as his skin sizzled against the metal but still he tugged without success.
Brook removed his hand and felt his skin come with it as he lurched round to the driver’s seat to look for a release mechanism. He could see the burning body behind the wheel but couldn’t get within ten feet as white-hot flames surged from the car. His lasting memory as he passed out was the crackling and spitting of a human being, the acrid stench of melting rubber and the delicious aroma of roasting meat.
‘Terri!’ screamed Brook.
Noble grabbed him around the shoulders and began to push him down. ‘Easy.’
‘I’ve got to find Terri.’ Brook struggled but his strength was gone and he was unable to overcome Noble. His eyes stung with smoke and he closed them to ease the fire under his eyelids. When he was able to open them again, Noble’s face appeared at the end of a long dark tunnel. ‘John.’ His voice was muffled by a face mask which was feeding him the sweetest gas, but Brook yanked it off and tried again.
Noble pushed Brook back down on to the stretcher. ‘Sir. Take it easy. We’ve got to get you to hospital.’
‘Terri,’ pleaded Brook. The sky behind Noble’s head turned into the roof of the ambulance and Brook sat up despite the burst of pain behind his eyes. He saw the flashing lights of police vehicles in the blackness and realisation dawned.
‘Sir, your hand is seriously-’
‘Terri was in the boot of the car.’
‘The VW?’
Brook levered himself off the trolley and put his right hand down on it. He felt a sickening pain. He looked down. His hand had been wrapped in a sterile bandage. At the same time he became aware of a tight wrapping around his head.
‘You need to rest,’ insisted Noble.
‘Then the sooner you let me see the car, the sooner I rest.’
Noble turned to the paramedic behind him.
