the biggest she had ever seen. Hulking, grey-skinned. Arms wrapped in dirty, bloodied bandages. His eyes caught the light. Glittered, dancing to a demented tune Helen hoped she would never hear.
He moved slowly towards her.
‘You’re right,’ said Dee, cruel laughter undercutting her words. ‘You never know who’s hanging around in here … ’
84
Jessie and Deepak were out of the car and making their way towards the piled-up fishing boats when they heard the scream.
‘Come on,’ said Jessie.
Deepak was already running. Across the grass, down the path. Keeping out of sight of the main walkway, making sure he couldn’t be seen. He reached the side of the stacked boats. Began to edge his way cautiously and silently but quickly along to the lit path, keeping hidden as he went.
Jessie caught up with him, joined him. Together they reached the corner.
Another scream, muffled this time, forcibly restrained.
They shared a glance. Deepak nodded.
They were both poised, ready to rush forward.
Jessie returned Deepak’s nod.
Ready to spring forward, surprise whoever was there.
Then her phone rang.
85
Tyrell looked down at Josephina. Saw her round, tear-filled eyes staring back up at him. No, he thought. I’m better than that. ‘I’m not a killer,’ he said aloud. ‘I don’t care what they say, I’m not a killer … ’
His mind slipped back. He couldn’t help it; he was so stressed, it just happened. He was back in the house, back in that room. On that day. With that shotgun cradled in his arm.
He remembered. It had been his mother’s wedding day. And he was so happy for her. He had been out for a walk, round the grounds, away from the house, the family. Enjoying himself. Planning his future. And when he had come back, he had found …
He knew what he had found. Bodies everywhere. Blood. Mess. The man he was trying to call his father. Like something from a horror movie. And his mother. Oh God, his mother … lying next to him. He was holding her, as if he had tried to protect her. Both of them dead. Gone.
That was when he had retreated. Found somewhere in his head to hide, to stay. And he had been there ever since.
But there was something else, some other memory …
Jiminy Cricket. Appearing before him, telling him what to do. And he had done it. Done as he was told. So numb, so dead from what he had just seen, he had done it.
And another memory was there too …
He closed his eyes. Didn’t want to bring it back, yet knew he had to. His mind was a fairground ride now. It might make him feel sick, it might scare him, it might make him wish he was dead. But he had to go through with it. He couldn’t get off until it had ended.
Until it had shown him everything it had to show him.
The other room. His brother. His sister.
Or the two people his mother had wanted him to call brother and sister.
Both lying there. Blood everywhere. But not dead. Moving. Looking up at him. Pretending. Like it was all some game.
He looked across at Amy. And it was like he was suddenly struck by lightning. He knew. He knew exactly what was happening.
‘I’m not a killer,’ he said aloud once more. ‘And I never have been … ’
He stared at Amy.
‘I know who you are.’
She smiled. ‘Well done, Einstein. Now do what you’re told.’
‘I’m not a killer,’ he said. ‘I would never kill a child. Never.’ He clutched Josephina tightly to him. ‘And I won’t let you hurt her either.’
‘Just do it! Do as you’re told. Then it’s time to go.’
‘I would never kill a child. Never.’ He swung the gun round, pointed it at Amy. ‘I know who you are.’
Amy was about to throw back a nasty, glib remark at him, but she saw the look in his eyes, stopped.
‘I know who you are. And what you’ve done to me. And my life.’
She said nothing.
‘You’ve taken my life … ’
He squeezed the trigger.
86
The Golem stopped, his arm round the woman’s throat, poised to snap. Dee Sloane had placed a restraining hand on his arm. They both looked towards the sound of the phone ringing.
The Golem didn’t want to stop. It didn’t matter who was there, he could take care of them too. Take care of all of them. There was nothing he couldn’t do. Nothing …
Dee Sloane was gesturing silently to him. Nodding her head, moving her arm. The back of the boats. Take the woman to the back of the boats. Continue there.
He nodded and was about to move.
That was when the woman screamed again.
‘Help me, oh God, help … help me … ’
The Golem began dragging her, but it was too late. Her screaming had alerted the person on the phone. Or persons. Two of them. Both running towards him.
‘Leave her,’ shouted Dee. ‘Deal with them.’
He dropped the woman, turned to the two newcomers. A man and a woman. The woman’s mouth was open and she was shouting something, making an identification of herself, giving him an instruction. She might even have said police, but he wasn’t listening. He was doing as he was told.
He moved forward, grabbed her round the throat. She dropped her phone but it kept ringing. He squeezed.
And stopped. Because he was aware of something on his back. He turned. The other one, the Indian man, had picked up an oar and was swinging it towards the Golem’s back. And again.
The Golem felt only the slightest irritation, but the man’s aim was good and strong and he started to lose his footing. The man was tiring a little but still going. The Golem took his hand away from the woman, turned to face this new challenge. Swung out a fist.
Missed.
The man was small, wiry. Reflexes sharp. He dodged, twisted.
The Golem swung again. The man ducked. The Golem’s fist connected with one of the stacked boats. The pile tottered, but didn’t fall. The Golem looked at his hand. His knuckles were skinned, splinters of wood sticking out of the exposed flesh like spikes, but he felt nothing. Dr Bracken’s pills were wonderful.
