Savage Night - Allan Guthrie [49]
Funny thing, during that fortnight the only clue the outside world had that anything was out of the ordinary was a neighbour who noticed a couple of letters sitting outside the front door. She thought it odd, but picked them up and posted them through the letterbox. He liked to think he'd been responsible, that he'd posted those letters back into the outside world, his way of asking for help. But if he did, he was probably just playing a game. Maybe if he'd tried it later, when his hands were covered in blood, she'd have noticed the tiny bloody fingerprints on the envelopes and called the police.
Anyway, the blood phobia resulted from a gradual understanding of what had happened to his mother. At least, that's what the doctors told him. And he didn't have a better explanation.
So, much as he wanted Savage's punishment to fit his crimes, he couldn't participate directly himself. Would have been great if Richie wasn't in prison. But Park had other family. He could rely on Effie. And Martin seemed to be up for it too.
Park saw a signpost. He was approaching Almondell Country Park, the woods where Martin's dad had met his end.
He slowed down. Turned off his lights. Nudged the car past the gatehouse and into the deserted parking area.
***
THIS IS IT, Tommy.
Tommy hardly noticed the various aches and pains of his body now. His hands were numb. Couldn't feel his feet either. He could ask Smith to cut him loose and he'd still not be able to help himself.
He'd fall over, claw at the ground.
Let me think about it?
That's what Smith had said to his daughter. Had he decided? Did he want her help? Or was he going to carry this out himself?
If Smith was alone and they were in the middle of nowhere, it'd be pretty clear what he'd decided.
When the boot opened, Tommy blinked his eyes into focus, started talking straight away. He had no means of defending himself other than with his tongue. He said, "You don't want to do this. You really don't."
"I don't want to touch that slavvery gag again," Smith said, hoisting him over the lip of the boot. "But I will if you don't shut up."
Tommy fell onto gravel. Smashed his kneecap into the ground. He remembered feeling that exact pain when he was a kid learning to ride his bike and falling off. Welled up in his knee, then pulsed, made him gasp. Just like it was doing now. He fought it and said, "If you kill me, they'll find you."
"Yeah?" Smith reached down, lifted him onto his feet.
"They always find murderers."
Smith looked at him. "You winding me up?" He reached into the car and reappeared with a sword.
Christ. Worm's katana.
He bent down, freed Tommy's legs. "Let's walk."
Tommy's breathing was shaky. So were his legs. He took a step. His knee throbbed. He stumbled. Stamped his feet. Some feeling was coming back into them. He could feel his shoes loose, the laces removed. Acid burned in his stomach.
Smith pushed Tommy ahead of him, and Tommy led the way down a path into the woods.
This didn't look entirely unlike the place they'd just left. For a minute, Tommy wondered if Smith had driven in a big circle.
Some kind of woods. Probably wouldn't be able to see much once they got into the thick of it. Too much leafy cover. Maybe Tommy could use that to his advantage somehow. But how? Think. Think, you stupid bastard. If he didn't think, he was going to die. He was smarter than this psycho. He had to believe that.
Now would be a good time to prove it.
Savage Night
10:45 PM
Fraser's House
EFFIE UNWRAPPED THE clothesline from around Fraser's neck. It had dug into the skin, and she had to tug hard to free it. But it popped out at last and when she let go, Fraser slumped forward, his face banging off the side of the tub.
"Ow." Martin appeared in the kitchen doorway again, naked, one transparent