'I'm just saying, OK? I mean ... I mean,' Rennie was having difficulty staying upright on his stool,'if this was a book, right? If this was a book, or a film, or something ... then ...' He burped. 'Scuse me ... If this was a book, it'd be one of us, wouldn't it? The Flesher? He'd be ... he'd be the last person you'd expect!' He nodded, had another drink, then waved a finger at them. 'Faulds! For example ... Chief Cons ... Consable Faulds - we've only got his word he's a Chief ... Consable, don't we? And where is he now? Vanished!' Logan smiled. 'He's flying back to Birmingham. You took him to the airport, you idiot.' 'Ah! Ah ...' Rennie tapped the side of his nose. 'But we don't know that for sure, do we? Hmmm? He could've ... could've turned round soon as I was gone and scarpered. Could be out there right now: killing peoples.' 'You're pished.' 'Pished like a FOX!' Steel banged her hand on the table, making all the empty glasses rattle. 'Karaoke!' That was it - definitely time to go home.
A clunk, and Heather sat bolt upright on her stinky mattress, eyes straining in the dark. Heart hammering against her ribs. Maybe he'd come back? Maybe he'd come back with more food and water? Her stomach growled again: a huge angry animal clawing its way through her innards. She'd never been so hungry in her life. Another clunk, and a thin sliver of yellow light raced across the rusty metal floor. Heather scooted forwards on her hands and knees, peering through the bars. The Butcher's shadow blocked out the light for a moment, then he stepped inside, walked over to the bars and placed a bottle of water and another tinfoil parcel where Heather could reach them. She didn't even wait for him to back away this time, just grabbed the plastic bottle. The water was cool and sweet in her mouth. Like the tears of angels. She drank half of it in one go before ripping the foil package open. There was a paper plate inside, full of breaded escalopes, so hot she nearly burned her fingers. God it was delicious. The best veal she'd ever tasted. The Butcher stood and watched her eat. Nodding. She chewed and swallowed. 'Can ... can I have more water? Please? I get so thirsty.' There was a moment's silence, and then the Butcher turned his back and walked out, closing the door behind him. The darkness closed around her. Heather started to cry. All she wanted was some water. She just wanted some bloody water! She screwed up her face, fists curled over her eyes, rocking back and forth. Just some fucking water ... Worthless, stupid bitch can't even ask for water properly. Can't do anything properly. Can't die with her family, has to get herself trapped in the dark, all alone. She pulled one of the fists from her face and punched herself in the stomach as hard as she could. Stupid. Punch.