Savage Night - Allan Guthrie [60]
"My mum's boyfriend's from South Africa."
"Is that right?"
"Russell. He talks funny. He stole her from my dad."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Effie said.
"What kind of rubbish is it?" The little fucker turned his head towards the bodies again.
Martin went on the attack. "How come you're up so late, Jordan?"
Which stalled him. He looked away from the bodies of his brother and uncle, shrugged. "It's not that late."
"Does your grandma know where you are?"
Jordan looked at the floor. Dragged his foot across the carpet.
"I'm sure she does, Clive," Effie said.
"She doesn't!" Jordan looked up, his eyes wide. "Dad said not to tell her. I sneaked out." He grinned.
"When did you speak to your dad?"
"Little while ago?"
"Tonight?"
"Yeah. Told me to come round here."
Effie looked at Martin. He shrugged. Effie said, "You actually spoke to him?"
"He texted me."
"He couldn't have."
"How do you know?"
Martin was staring at her. "You want a glass of milk or something?" he said to Jordan, still looking at Effie. "Sit down, watch a bit of TV?"
Jordan shrugged. "Yeah, okay," he said.
Martin said, "When did your dad say he'd be here?"
"He didn't."
"Think you could call him and find out?"
***
THERE WAS NO reply. Of course there wasn't. Jordan was lying.
Effie took the phone from him.
"Hey!" he said.
"I'm just going to borrow it. You can get it back later."
"I want it." The kid's face crumpled. "You can't take it. It's mine."
"I'm just going to make a few calls, that's all."
"Use your own."
"I can't get a signal."
Jordan's eyes latched onto Fraser's phone. "Use Fraser's."
Effie picked it up, pocketed it. "Good idea. I'll try it, too." Then she switched on the TV. "Shut the fuck up and watch this."
Martin came back from the kitchen with some milk, looked at the pair of them. "What's the matter?" he said.
"She took my phone."
Effie said, "Stop moaning."
Martin handed Jordan his milk. "Or you'll never get it back," he said. "Now drink that, watch TV and behave for two minutes."
"She's got the remote."
Effie tossed it into his lap. Martin grabbed her elbow, steered her out into the hallway.
He pulled the door towards them, didn't close it. He whispered: "Keep calm."
"I am," she said. "But what the fuck's going on?"
"I'm sure everything's fine."
"How can it be? That little bastard's here."
"I know. And his father texted him."
"But you know he couldn't have."
"You heard what Jordan said."
"He's lying."
"Has to be. But why?"
She couldn't think of a reason.
Martin said, "Give me his phone."
She handed it over.
He fumbled around on the keys for a bit, then said, "Here it is." He read out the last message. Just as Jordan had said. "And it says it's from his dad."
"Shit," Effie said. "We have to go. This means Dad's in trouble."
"Not necessarily."
"Course he is."
"Think about it," Martin said. "Why would Jordan's father text him? If you were in his shoes, and you got to a phone, you'd call, wouldn't you? And why would his dad send him to the most dangerous place possible? Right into our arms? You think that's likely?"
She still didn't say anything.
"Want me to spell it out?" He shrugged. "Okay." Continued: "Somebody else sent the message using his dad's phone."
She felt her face flush. "You mean my dad? Why would he …?"
Martin nodded. "Let me call him."
"We can't do that."
"We can't not do it."
"It'll give the game away. They'll trace the call. It'll prove that we were here."
"I'll use my mobile."
"No good. They can tell where you were when you made the call."
He peered through the crack into the sitting room. Jordan must have been behaving himself cause Martin turned to face her again. He said, "Then I guess we won't know what's going on till we get to Old Mrs Yardie's."
"You think Dad's been planning this all along?"
"Shhh," Martin said. "Jordan'll hear."
She lowered her voice. "Answer me."
"I'm guessing. I have no evidence to back me up. But knowing your