Dead Pretty: The 5th DS McAvoy Novel (DS Aector McAvoy) (44 page)

McAvoy pushes forward, hands out in front, running blindly, ducking branches and skipping over tree roots; the whistle of the wind inaudible over his own breathing and the rushing of his blood.

For a second he fancies he can see the outline of a figure. Hears a branch break. Cloth tearing, as a shirt catches on rough wood and splits to the seam.

McAvoy wonders if he should yell. Wonders if he should lie and tell Hollow that if he does not stop, the officers behind him in their night-vision goggles will bring him down like a stag.

There is a movement to his left and McAvoy turns, just as Hollow smashes him across both knees with a branch as thick as an arm. He hears the snap of wood before the pain hits him and by then he is on the ground, slithering about in leaves and dirt. When the pain comes, it is an explosion. It feels as though the top of his head will blow off to allow the high-pressure steam of agony to escape.

‘Tell me what to do next,’ says Hollow flatly. ‘Go on. Tell me what a good man does now.’

McAvoy’s words are a hiss. He pulls his legs up to his belly. Holds his knees like a baby.

‘She didn’t want to do any of this,’ says Hollow, hefting the remainder of his club. ‘I did wrong. I could see what Delphine was from the beginning. I thought that if I told her my stories she might see that it doesn’t have to be good people that she hurts. But it didn’t matter to her in the end. It wasn’t about anything but killing. I could see it in her eyes. I should have stopped her then. But I love her, you see. Not in the way she wants me to, but I love her. I’m not like other people, Hector. I can’t care the way other people do. I do try. I did my best to be the right person for my family. Tried so hard. But it wasn’t what I lived for. I lived for that moment when a pretty girl told me they had a problem. I killed my first one when I was still a boy. Did you know that? When I got out of prison I knew I’d do it again. I just had to wait. It’s amazing how strangers will share things. They would tell me their worries. They’d see me in a bar or on a train and they’d start chit-chatting about the men who were making them miserable. And then we’d go our separate ways. And I’d log it in the back of my head. And then I’d go back and fucking kill them.’

McAvoy tries to put his feet down and feels a white-hot strip of pain run up his legs.

‘I should never have done it so close to home,’ says Hollow.

He seems angry at himself. Lets his feelings out by bringing the club down across McAvoy’s shoulder and ribs. It feels like being hammered flat.

‘Hannah. Ava. I met Hannah out at the church at Great Givendale. Lovely, lovely person. A really pure soul. She had tears in her eyes. Had been laying a wreath for her pony. I was working on some new carvings for the church. We sat out on the grass and shared stories. I did what I knew she wanted. I should have put Hogg in the ground, but there was something about Hannah that made me think twice. She would carry the guilt of his death. She had to choose. She chose to let him live. And then she wouldn’t leave me alone. It wasn’t fair on Delphine. I tried to hide it from her but she kept reading my messages. Perhaps I knew what she would do. But when I got arrested there was no restraining hand. She killed her. Buried her. What could I do? Turn her in? She’s the love of my life. I made mistakes. Ava – I was showing off. I should never have helped her. She wasn’t even a good person. That was desire, plain and simple. I wanted her. She was in hospital when we met, battered and bruised and still the sexiest thing I’d seen in years. I was kind to her. I dried her eyes and wiped the dried blood off her face and she looked at me like I was special. I wanted to help her. She deserved to be helped. But with her, it was more than the fact that she was fragile or pretty or vulnerable. She was sexy as hell, Hector. I made a mistake by claiming the credit for her ex’s death. I should never have contacted her again. But I did. I made a mistake and hinted it was all down to me and the next thing we were chatting and I told her what I was into and from there she knew how to play with me. I don’t have sex like other people. I like smells; I like hair. I don’t know why. I should never have shared that confidence with anybody. But I told Ava and I told Hannah and they used it to try and own a piece of me. Delphine didn’t like that. And now they’re dead, and I’ve got nowhere to go. I don’t know if I want to kill you or not. You seem like a good person. I feel like there’s something between us. I see the same thing in Trish’s eyes that I see in Delphine’s. I see it in your wife, too. She’s killed, hasn’t she? Tell me. She would. She’d spill her guts and look at me with those beautiful eyes and I’d do things that nobody else would . . .’

McAvoy’s fury comes from a place within him he does not acknowledge. His shout is an untamed animal roar of pure and absolute rage. He lunges at Hollow just as he’s preparing to bring the club down again. Grabs it in his great, bear-like hands, and thrusts it backwards into Hollow’s face. Hears cartilage crunch against wood.

McAvoy grabs Hollow around the knees and smashes him to the ground with an impact that drives the air from both men’s lungs. Hollow recovers first. Punches McAvoy in the top of the head: hard, ferocious right hooks that make McAvoy’s head ring. McAvoy reaches up and tries to grab Hollow’s wrists but Hollow squirms beneath him and manages to boot him in his damaged knee. McAvoy rolls away, reeling, bloodied, groggy.

Hollow is on top of him, raining down blow after blow. There is blood pouring down his face and into his mouth but his expression remains neutral. His eyes barely flicker as he grabs a fistful of McAvoy’s hair and starts to beat the back of his head against the hard, compacted mud of the forest floor.

McAvoy hears his skull smack against the ground. He can barely see. Does not know up from down. Feels suddenly cold and weak. Feels wetness on the back of his neck. Feels his life pooling behind him into the dirt and shit where Hannah Kelly lay buried for those endless months of misery.

McAvoy throws his hand forward. Finds something soft. Pushes with his thumb and feels something give beneath his nail.

Hears Hollow scream.

McAvoy punches upwards. Lashes out, blind and desperate. Connects. Punches out, harder now, the weight on his chest diminishing.

And now he is on his knees, grabbing a handful of Hollow’s shirt and pulling him close enough to hit. The other man has his hand pressed to his left eye, his face contorted in agony. McAvoy pulls him close. Puts his weight into the punches that he slams into the side of Hollow’s head. One. Two. Three . . .

He collapses forward onto the unconscious, bloodied mess beneath him. Listens to his own heartbeat and waits for the pain to come back.

His world spins. Black and grey strobe in his vision. He can hear somebody shouting his name. Struggling to pronounce it.

‘Hector!’

He lies on the forest floor and stares up into the fog. As if seeing shapes form in cloud, the swirl of mist becomes animal. He sees a wolf, turning its head, opening its mouth and swallowing the full moon.

And then he sees nothing but Trish Pharaoh, leaning over him and pressing her warm hand to the wound at the back of his head, screaming for an ambulance and telling him to hold on, to stay with her, to never leave . . .

Chapter 33

‘Any poison in this one?’ asks Pharaoh as she twists open a bottle of elderflower gin and takes a sniff. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ she says, and takes a gulp.

Her gait is a little lopsided. She’s holding a pressure pad under her armpit and looks as though she is wearing an invisible sling. She hasn’t changed her clothes. She’s still all mud and blood and puke.

Reuben Hollow sits at the table. His hands are cuffed behind him. His face is swelling, obscenely.

‘You knew what she was up to, then,’ she says, sitting down at the table beside him. There is a piece of broken glass on the wooden surface in front of her. It’s shaped like a tooth.

Hollow raises his head. One of his teeth has come out at the back and his jawbone looks like a chicken leg. He looks broken. His voice contains the whine of a tired child.

‘I never wanted this,’ he says. ‘I just tried to help people.’

Pharaoh takes another swig. There is a uniformed copper on the outside of the door. The grounds are swarming with Aberlour’s team. But Pharaoh insisted she have this time, alone, with the prisoner. Nobody had questioned her. Nobody would dare.

‘She didn’t,’ says Pharaoh, picking up the piece of glass and massaging it between her fingers. ‘She killed people because she was obsessed with you.’

‘That’s not true. Not really.’

‘How long ago did you realise?’

‘Realise who she was? I don’t know.’

‘She killed her brother. Poisoned him.’

‘We don’t know that for sure. Teenagers imagine things.’

‘She helped her mum on her way.’

‘Like I said . . .’

‘She killed Hannah Kelly for you.’

‘Don’t say that.’

Pharaoh tries to hold in her temper.

‘It happens. Kids fall in love with older men. Long-lost siblings start sexual relationships. There’s a precedent for every sick thing you can think of. She fell in love with her stepdad. And her stepdad showed her that it’s okay to kill people as long as you believe you’re doing right.’

Hollow drops his head to the table. Grinds his forehead against a tiny speck of glass.

‘Hannah would never have told.’

‘You sent her a video on David Hogg’s mobile. He was begging for his life. She allowed him to live. Bet you weren’t expecting that.’

Hollow manages the tiniest of smiles. ‘I thought she’d want him dead. I had to honour her wishes.’

‘You never involved any of your other damsels in distress the way you involved Hannah. Why not?’

Hollow looks around him. His hair flutters in the breeze from the smashed window. He looks at the mingled blood on the stone floor. His shoulders slump.

‘With the others, I liked that they knew, but didn’t know. They met a man, told him their problems, and those problems went away. Hannah saw the world differently. She wanted to believe in gallantry. Chivalry. The old ways. I wanted her to know that David Hogg was suffering for no other reason than because she ordered it. I wanted her to know I was hers.’

‘You wanted to fuck her, Reuben.’

‘No.’

‘You might not want to admit it, but you wanted to fuck all of them.’

‘I didn’t. Not like you think.’

Pharaoh considers him, sucking on her cheek. ‘Your internet history should make for interesting reading. Delphine says you’re into all sorts of dark stuff. Smells. Hair. Hannah knew all that. She read up on how to become the perfect woman for you.’

‘She was a good person. She was beautiful. But I wouldn’t have ever let anything physical happen.’

‘I don’t think you physically could anyway, Reuben. I think you’re impotent and you get your kicks seeing yourself as a hero. I don’t think the woman you physically want actually exists.’

‘I wanted you.’

‘No you didn’t. You wanted me to look at you with adoration and admiration in my eyes. You wanted me to know you were somebody spectacular.’

‘You lied to me,’ says Hollow, looking at her for a moment before turning away. ‘You were trying to catch me. What did you really think of me? Underneath all the lies and pretending? Do you think I was doing anything bad?’

Pharaoh takes another swig of elderflower gin. ‘You’re going to go to prison for murder,’ she says flatly. ‘Lots of murders. So is Delphine.’

‘She’s not a murderer,’ says Hollow. ‘She made mistakes.’

‘She killed Hannah because she knew Hannah better than you ever did. She knew she was a good person who couldn’t live with knowing what she knew about you. Eventually, Hannah would have told somebody. Delphine stopped that. She pretended to be you. Set Hannah up and killed her. Brought her home and dumped her body under a pile of manure. When did she tell you about it? Were you supposed to be pleased? Did it make you twitch?’

‘Don’t say these things, Trish. Please.’

Pharaoh shakes her head. ‘Ava Delaney,’ she says, accentuating each syllable. ‘She wasn’t such a good girl, was she? She was much more honest about what she wanted. She wanted money to keep your secret.’

‘She was confused. Life’s difficult. She would never have gone through with her threats.’

‘Delphine thought she would. She was so convinced that Ava would tell your secrets, she went to her home, poisoned her and killed her.’