The Make

Chapter 76

Eventually the police arrived. They had a lot of trouble just getting through. And then – and Gracie had seen this coming, wasn’t she the pure cool brains of the outfit after all? – they were all arrested. Lorcan protested, heatedly, but Gracie didn’t. Alfie was too zonked out to care, and Harry too weak. As for Deano, he was as good as dead as far as she could tell.

The cops took one look at Deano spark out on the garage floor covered in blood, saw more blood on Lorcan’s hands and all up his arms, and drew rapid conclusions. The air ambulance was called, but it was debatable as to whether or not it could fly in these conditions. Certainly they’d never get an ambulance up these roads, but if push came to shove, they’d try. Lorcan told them quickly about Deano imprisoning Harry here, and that Deano mustn’t be allowed to get anywhere near Harry again because he would try and do him damage.

To the police, Deano didn’t look in a fit state to hurt a fly, much less a person. Lorcan however was a big bastard and a discernible threat. They put the handcuffs on Lorcan.

After what felt like a lifetime, the air ambulance arrived, along with the medics. Deano Drax was strapped into a stretcher with big foam head supports, and Harry was too. They were all taken to hospital, and there was a lot of form-filling, more questions, endless questions, and Gracie sat into the small hours of the morning in a bleak little waiting room, a policewoman at her side, while Lorcan, Alfie, Harry and Drax were all checked over.

Lorcan came into the room at about three a.m., still in the cuffs, with a bandaged hand and a policeman in tow.

‘They’re keeping Harry in,’ he told her.

‘Can I see him?’

‘Not right now. He’s badly dehydrated, they’ve got him on a drip.’

Gracie slumped, exhausted. All the adrenalin of the past few nightmare hours had surged in upon her and now she felt like someone had simply pulled her plug out. ‘When can we get out of here?’ she asked the policewoman.

‘Now,’ said the woman, standing up with a glance at her colleague. ‘We’d like you to come to the station.’

Gracie groaned and, leaning on Lorcan, followed the two officers out of the building into the snowy night. Outside the main hospital door, a weary-looking man with a head of mud-blond hair and a long, sober face came towards the two officers, accompanied by a skinny, hard-eyed female.

‘Take a seat just there, will you please?’ said the male policeman, and Lorcan and Gracie sat down just inside the door with the policewoman watching over them.

The male uniformed policeman was in a huddle just outside the door with the weary-looking man and woman. They were talking intently. They kept glancing over at Lorcan and Gracie. Finally, all three stepped inside the building and approached.

‘Good evening, sir. Miss,’ said the tired-looking man. He had that ‘I’ve-seen-it-all’ expression that both dodgers and enforcers of the law invariably wear. He showed them his ID. ‘I’m DI Sanderson. My colleagues tell me you’ve had a run-in with Deano Drax.’

‘You could say that,’ said Lorcan.

Sanderson nodded to the policeman. He uncuffed Lorcan.

‘Let’s talk about this down at the station, shall we?’

They climbed wearily into the back of an unmarked police car and the two plain-clothes officers got in the front and drove them to the station. They were escorted into a comfortable interview room, given hot drinks and sandwiches. Then the questions began, and continued for several hours while notes were assiduously taken.

Christmas Day was gone; now it was Boxing Day morning. Families were relaxing at home with their loved ones, while Gracie and Lorcan sat there and answered questions. Finally, when it seemed as if they were stuck in some weird twilight world where normality was a thing of the past, the weary-eyed male detective said: ‘I think that’s all for now.’

‘I’m worried about Drax being near Harry,’ said Gracie.

‘There’s an officer keeping watch on both of them. And Drax, as I understand it, isn’t going to be a danger to anyone for quite a while.’

He stared at Lorcan. Lorcan stared right back.

They all stood up.

‘We’ll get someone to take you both home,’ said the detective, and leaned across, offering his hand to Lorcan.

Lorcan hesitated, then took it.

‘Well done, sir,’ said the detective. He looked straight into Lorcan’s eyes. ‘And if anyone ever asks, I didn’t say that. All right?’

Chapter 77

Without a word to each other, Gracie and Lorcan fell into bed back at the flat over the casino, in a state beyond exhaustion; and they slept until late in the afternoon. Gracie awoke to find herself wrapped around Lorcan’s body like a vine around a tree.

‘Oh,’ she said, surprised to find herself alive, and in bed with him. She pulled away.

‘Don’t,’ he said, and leaned in and kissed her.

Gracie pulled back.

‘What?’ asked Lorcan, enveloping her in his strength.

‘Why did you go out?’ she demanded as it all came flooding back over her like a cold, breath-snatching tide.

Lorcan stared at her. ‘Why did you?’

‘Because you’d fucking-well vanished and I thought Drax had you. That man’s insane. Answer the question. Why the hell did you go out like that? He put George in hospital. Attacked Mum’s front door with a chainsaw and tried to abduct me. You didn’t tell me where you were going. You had your phone switched off. You were ranting like a crazy man about Drax at the hospital. I panicked. What the hell was I supposed to think?’

‘That I’m a big boy and I don’t need a nursemaid?’ suggested Lorcan.

She thumped his chest. ‘Don’t take the piss. Why did you go out? Just tell me.’

‘Why did you?’

Gracie sat up. Lorcan yanked her back down.

‘You know what?’ she said. ‘You’re fucking infuriating.’

‘I’ll tell you why,’ he promised. ‘Later.’

‘No. Now.’

‘Later, Gracie.’

He was pulling her in closer, kissing her again, robbing her of all sense. Gracie didn’t fight too hard. It was so blissful, being in bed with him. She had forgotten how good it was. She relaxed and let it happen. He made love to her, and she reciprocated. Later, when they lay spent together, Gracie looked at his bandaged hand and thought back to him hammering Deano Drax’s big bald head against the garage wall. She shuddered. If a solidly made six- foot-four-inch man like Lorcan wanted to do you damage, exactly how much damage were you talking? She thought of the detective’s words, that Deano Drax was going to be out of it for some time.

Forever would be better, she thought.

Deano Drax was worse than an animal. He was demented. He’d taken a grudge against one member of a family and worked it up into a deadly vendetta against them all. She thought of what he had done to Alfie, and felt a