Fox Evil (29 page)

It suggested a stronger adversary than he was used to…

All three of them heard the sound of more cars arriving. They drove in at speed, churning the gravel as they slowed to a halt. With a sob of fear, knowing his father wouldn't wait any longer, Wolfie pushed himself to his feet and raced toward the terrace with all his turmoil and anguish for his lost mother pouring out in a high-pitched "NO-O-O!"

Afterward, when she had time to think about it, Nancy wondered how many adrenaline rushes a person could tolerate before their legs gave way. She felt she was bathing in the stuff, but when the child started screaming her glands went into overdrive.

The whole incident remained sharp in her memory, as if the stimulus of Wolfie's cry cleared her brain for action. She remembered feeling calm, remembered waiting for the other person to react first, remembered switching off her torch because she didn't need it anymore. She knew where he was now because he swore under his breath as the wailed "No" reached him, and in the fraction of a second that it took him to move, she sorted and computed enough information to predict what he would do.

More than one car suggested police. Someone had alerted them. There were lights at the encampment. The cry was a child's. Only one child had been scared. The psycho's son. This was the psycho. Fox. He carried a razor. His only route to safety was toward the parkland and the valley beyond. Without wheels he'd be trapped between Shenstead and the sea. He needed a guarantee of free passage. The only guarantee was a hostage.

She began to move as soon as he did, cutting off his angled run toward the child's voice. With a shorter distance to cover-almost as if it were preordained-she caught him by Ailsa's last resting place in front of the sundial. His left side was toward her and she scanned for the flash of a blade in his hand. It looked empty and she gambled that he was right-handed. With a backhand swing of her torch, she chopped at his throat before bringing her left hand down in a slamming slice on his right forearm as he turned toward her. Something metal clattered to the flagstones.

"Bitch," he snarled, backing away.

She flicked on the torch, blinding him. "You touch the kid and I'll fucking cripple you," she snarled back, locating the razor with her foot and sweeping it behind her against the sundial plinth. She raised her voice. "Stay away, friend, and stay quiet!" she called to the child. "I don't want you hurt. I'll give your dad a chance to get away as long as you don't come any closer."

Something like amusement flickered briefly in Fox's eyes as Wolfie fell silent. "Get over here, Wolfie. Now!"

No answer.

"You hear me?
Now!
Do you want me to smash the bitch's face?"

Wolfie's terrified voice stuttered out from a few yards away. "He k-keeps a hammer in his p-pocket. He h-hit m-my m-mum with it."

The warning came too late. Nancy saw only a blur of movement as the hammer, already in his hand, came scything from behind his back in an upward curve toward her jaw.

The despairing high-pitched "No-o-o" stopped almost as soon as it began, giving the men at the front no time to register where it came from. "Which way?" Monroe demanded.

Barker switched on his torch. "The side nearest the Copse," he said. "It sounded like a kid."

"The terrace," said James. "It's his killing ground."

Mark made straight for the Discovery. "Let's see him outrun this bastard," he said, firing the engine and roaring backward.

Nancy could only turn away and raise her right arm to take the impact. The force of the blow caught her below the elbow, sending pain shooting to the top of her skull. She staggered backward against the sundial, losing her footing as the plinth unbalanced her. She twisted sideways to avoid being spread-eagled across the dial, and the torch slid from her numbed fingers, dropping to the flagstones and skittering away from her. As she hit the ground with a jarring thump and rolled frantically to avoid another hammer blow, she caught sight of the child's white-blond hair, lit up like a homing beacon against the black backdrop of the parkland.
Ah, shit!
What cruel fate had pointed the torch in that direction?

She scrabbled behind the sundial, and heaved herself into a crouch.
Keep his attention… keep him talking…
"Do you know who I am?" she asked, as Fox dropped into a similar crouch, transferring the hammer to his right hand.

"Lizzie's little bastard."

With her left hand, she felt around the plinth for the razor. "Think again. Fox. I'm your worst nightmare. A woman who fights back." Her straining fingers found the bone handle and folded it into her palm. "Let's see how you do against a soldier."

He brought the hammer around in a pile-driving smash, but it was a predictable move and she was ready for it. She flicked the razor up and slashed at his forearm as she thrust to her right to keep the sundial between herself and him. "That was for my grandmother, fucker." He gave a grunt of pain and shook the hood off his face as if it were stifling him. In the backwash of the torchlight, she saw that his face was glistening with sweat. "You're not used to this, are you? Is that why you pick on kids and old ladies?" He took another wild swipe, and this time she sliced at his wrist. "That was for Wolfie's mum. What did you do to her? Why's he so scared?"

He dropped the hammer and clutched at his wrist, and from the front of the house they heard the Discovery's engine roar to life. She saw a momentary indecision in his pale eyes before he went berserk, charging her down like a maddened bull. She reacted instinctively, flinging the razor away, and curling into a tight ball to present the smallest possible target. It was brief and violent-an orgy of kicking-with Nancy the writhing, squirming punchbag as Fox's boots hit their target every time.

He spoke in breathy grunts. "Ask who I am next time… think I cared about your grandmother?… The bitch owed me…"

She would have surrendered if her Discovery's headlights hadn't split the night and sent Fox running for cover.

She lay on her back on the ground, staring at the wispy moonlight, thinking that every bone in her body was broken. Little fingers felt her face. "Are you dead?" asked Wolfie, kneeling beside her.

"Absolutely not." She smiled up at him, seeing him clearly in the Discovery's headlamps. "You're a brave kid, Wolfie. How's it going with you, friend?"

"Not so good," he said, his mouth wobbling. "I ain't dead, but I reckon my mom is 'n' I dunno what to do. What's gonna happen to me?"

They heard a car door slam and running feet. Mark loomed over them in the Discovery headlamps. "Oh,
shit!
Are you all right?"

"Fine. Just having a little lie-down." Nancy flexed her left hand and put it gingerly around Wolfie's waist. "It's the cavalry," she told him. "They're always the last to arrive.
No
," she said firmly as Mark reached down to lift the child away from her. "Leave us be for the moment." She listened to more feet pounding down the terrace. "I
mean
it, Mark. Do
not
interfere, and don't let anyone else interfere until I'm ready."

"You're bleeding."

"Not my blood, I'm just winded." She stared up into his anxious eyes. "I need to talk to Wolfie in private.
Please
," she said. "I walked away when you asked. Do the same for me."

He nodded immediately and strode up to meet the policemen, waving his arms to slow them down. Inside the house the lights came on as James moved from room to room.

Nancy drew Wolfie closer, feeling his bones through his inadequate clothing. She had absolutely no idea what to say to him. She didn't know if Fox was his father or stepfather, if his mother was dead or if he just thought she was dead, where he came from, if he had relatives. Indeed, she had no better idea than he what would happen to him, although she guessed he would be taken into care and processed through the foster system while his circumstances were investigated. She didn't think it would help to tell him that, however. What comfort was there for anyone in abstract ideas?

"I'll tell you how it works in the army," she said. "Everyone looks after everyone else. We call it watching each other's backs. Do you know that expression?"

Wolfie nodded.

"Right, well, when someone watches your back so well that they save your life, then it becomes a debt, and you have to do the same for them. Do you understand?"

"Like the black geezer in
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
?"

She smiled. "That's it. You're Robin Hood, and I'm the black geezer. You saved my life, so now I have to save yours."

He shook his head anxiously. "But that ain't what I'm scared of. I don't reckon the cops're gonna kill me. I just reckon they're gonna be real angry about my mum and Cub… 'n'
everything
." He took a shuddering breath. "'N' they'll send me to strangers… 'n' I'll be all alone."

She squeezed his waist. "I know. It's pretty frightening. I'd be afraid, too. So why don't I pay off my debt by making sure the police don't do anything until you tell me you feel safe? Does that count as saving your life?"

The child thought about it. "I guess. How you gonna do it?"

"First I'm going to wriggle a bit to find out if everything's still working-" her legs seemed to be, but her right arm was numb from the elbow down-"then you're going to grab this hand-" she squeezed his waist again-"and keep holding it till you reckon it's okay to let go. How does that sound?"

Like all children, he was logical. "What happens if I never let go?"

"We'll have to get married," she said with a small laugh, wincing as pain ripped up her side. The bastard had broken a rib.

Ivo was trying to persuade the others to leave. "Wise up," he said. "None of us knows what's been going on, but you can bet your lives the cops won't believe that. If we're lucky, we'll spend twenty-four hours at the flaming nick while they hit us with every unsolved crime in Dorset… if we're not, they'll take our kids off us and bang us up for being accessories to whatever Fox has done. We should take off now. Leave the bastard to face the firing squad alone."

"What do you think?" Zadie asked Bella.

The big woman twisted a roll-up between her stubby fingers and licked the paper. "I think we should stay put and follow Mr. Barker's instructions."

Ivo surged to his feet. "It's not your call," he said aggressively. "You made that deal without asking the rest of us. I say we go… pack up now before we end up in deeper shit than we're in already. I'm a hundred percent sure the cops didn't take anyone's registration except Fox's, so, barring Bella, who he knows from before, he's only got vague descriptions to go on."

"What about Bella?" asked Gray.

"She can talk her way out of it when they catch up with her… say she was scared for her kids and didn't need the aggro. It's the truth. None of us needs the fucking aggro."

They all looked at Bella. "Well?" Zadie asked.

"Can't see the point," she said mildly, taking some heat from the argument. "For a kickoff, we've all got stuff outside that needs bringing in-my kids' bikes for one-and I don't fancy being caught in the open if Fox comes back."

"Safety in numbers," said Ivo, pacing restlessly in the aisle. "If we're all in the open, there'll be too many targets. But we need to move now. The longer we wait, the worse our chances." He jerked his chin at Gray. "You know damn well what's gonna happen. We'll have the busies on our backs for days. It'll be the kids taking the brunt of it, and who needs that?"

Gray looked uncertainly toward his wife. "What do you think?"

"Maybe," said Zadie, with an apologetic shrug for Bella.

"Maybe nothing," she said bluntly, lighting her cigarette and taking a satisfying inhalation. "I told Mr. Barker I'd keep you in, and that's what I'm gonna do." She eyed Ivo thoughtfully through the smoke. "Looks to me like you're the one brought the fuzz down on our heads, and now you're trying to stampede the rest of us to get yourself off the hook."

"How do you make that out?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I ain't got nothing to hide… 'n' I'm fucked if I'm leaving till I know Wolfie's okay. Fox don't worry me, long as I'm in my bus… Mr. Barker don't worry me neither.
You
fucking do, though. What're you running from, 'n' what's this 'crimes in Dorset' crap, eh? Far as I'm concerned, Fox is a murdering bastard-probably a thief to boot-but he ain't stupid. I gave him more than enough time to get back to his bus-but all the time in the world wouldn't've helped if he didn't know he needed to. Reckon it was you up at the farm after bits of machinery to nick. It's what you do, ain't it? You've got enough equipment in your luggage compartment to start a fucking garden center, mate. I've seen it."

"That's bullshit."

She blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling. "Don't think so. Maybe you was planning to give the project a whirl when you joined, but you sure as hell gave up on it by lunchtime. You was always gonna scarper tomorrow… so I reckon you went on the prowl looking to compensate yourself for wasted time-" she shrugged-"'n' now you're wetting yourself in case Fox comes back and beats the shit out of you for fouling his patch. Whatever he's up to, he ain't gonna be pleased to have cops crawling all over the place."

"You're in the same boat. You told your copper friend about Vixen and Cub. You think Fox is going to be any more pleased about that?"

"Wouldn't think so."

"Then use some sense and get out while the going's good. The police won't find him. He'll go to ground somewhere, then come after us."

"He won't take us on in here-assuming he can break the door down, which I doubt." She smiled slightly. "It won't help
you
, mind. Either way, someone's gonna do you. If it ain't Fox, it'll be Mr. Barker when people start reporting their hedge trimmers stolen… but that's
your
problem, mate. One thing's for sure, I don't plan to get my throat slit 'coz you're too scared to go outside on your own. You wanna save your arse, save it yourself, but don't try 'n' pretend you're doing the rest of us a favor. 'N' don't take your kids and your lady out there, neither," she added, glancing at the introvert woman who claimed to be Ivo's wife. "She can't handle Fox on her own if you decide to leg it."

He launched a frustrated kick at one of her seats. "Maybe Fox isn't the only one who wants to slit your throat, you fat bitch. You're too fucking friendly with the cops. Who's to say it wasn't you brought them out here? You've been carrying on about Wolfie's mum most of the day. It wouldn't surprise me if you decided to do something about it."