Savage Night (34 page)

Now she got it. He'd found Mum, thought she was Old Mrs Yardie. "You didn't hurt her, did you?"

"Now why would I do that?"

"I dunno. You shot Martin."

"He killed my brother."

"You killed Grant."

"An accident," he said. "Like I told your dad. Many times. Old women and children aren't my style." He cocked his head.

"Look," she said. "We weren't going to do anything to him." She angled her chin towards Jordan.

Savage didn't say anything.

"I wasn't going to touch him." She was looking at the road but she could feel his staring eyes on her.

"You said 'we'. Then you said 'I'."

"Me and Martin didn't want anything to do with it. It was Dad," she said. "Dad wanted him dead. If we'd wanted him dead, he'd
be
dead."

"Like Phil?" Savage said. "Like Fraser?"

"Dad's a psycho," she said. "The whole thing was his idea." Okay, that wasn't entirely true. But she didn't care that she was sinking her father deeper into the shit. It was his fault, landing Jordan on them like that. Dad was already buried up to his neck in it. Maybe deeper. Nothing she did now would make it any worse. So she might as well do what she could to make the situation better for herself.

She was on her own now. On her own. Yeah. She heaved again, her stomach clenching, bile in her throat, that image of Martin's empty eyesocket flashing in front of her.

"Watch the road," Savage said, and she realised she was veering into the wrong lane. She straightened up. Her eyes watered but she hadn't thrown up. Savage continued: "You didn't want anything to do with it?"

She swallowed again. Better. For the moment, at least. She shook her head. "All Dad's idea."

"Interesting. So you strangled Fraser against your will? You cut him up—?"

"She's lying, Dad!" Jordan said.

"Like fuck I am." She looked at the little prick. His eyes were red like his dad's, puffy, cheeks smudged with dirt. Looked like a little boy who'd been out playing late with his friends and needed to get home to bed.

"She was going to kill me. Her and her boyfriend were going to kill me. They were going to drive off somewhere quiet with me in the back with the bodies and then they were going to cut me up and cut my head off and wrap me up like rubbish and put me in a hole in the garden or in the sea."

"Lying little prick." She clenched her teeth. "He's making it up."

"Don't swear in front of him," Savage said.

"It's true," Jordan said. "She was going to kill me. And so was her poofy boyfriend."

She gripped the wheel hard.

Jordan must have noticed. He said, "Her
dead
, poofy boyfriend."

The pleasure she'd get from hitting the little shit was almost worth the risk. She was going to die anyway.

Yep.

She backhanded Jordan across the mouth.

He yelled.

Savage said, "Hey, what the fuck, what the
fuck
, did you do that for?"

Jordan was still yelling. Blood oozed from his bottom lip. It was swelling already. His teeth were stained red.

She said, "I should have listened to my dad and killed the little bastard."

Savage touched her neck with the gun. Pressed it into the skin under her chin. His mouth hung open like he was about to say something. But he didn't.

"Go on," she said, pressing her foot on the accelerator. "Do it." See if he dared.

What she didn't expect was Jordan to punch her in the mouth. She was still in shock when he punched her a second time.

His little kid fist had sharp knuckles. Her lip stung like a bitch.

"Stop it," Savage said, grabbing Jordan's arm, in so doing moving the gun away from her neck. "We don't want an accident. Not while she's driving."

Jordan said, "It hurt."

"Good." Effie sucked her lower lip. The skin was broken on the inside. Tasted raw. Didn't seem to be bleeding though. "Why are you lying to your dad?"

"Why are
you
lying to him?"

"You know I never intended to kill you. I was trying to keep you alive. Why make up all that crap?"

"I'm not making it up."

Savage was going to believe his son, whatever she said. She was dead. Or as good as. But she had to stay alive, somehow. She couldn't kill Savage if she was dead. And she had to kill him. He'd killed Grant, he'd killed Martin, and God alone knew what he'd done to her bastard dad. She'd been wondering about that for some time. Maybe she should ask.

***

PARK WOKE UP with a start. He always woke up with a start. Legacy of prison. But he didn't usually wake up on the floor, bollock naked, with a pain in his ribcage that hurt like misery when he breathed. He tried to sit up. His ribcage told him not to. But he persevered. He had to get out of here before the police arrived. He'd delayed them, but sooner or later they'd come looking for their missing pals.

And he had to tell Effie and Martin not to come here as they'd planned. It wasn't safe any longer.

Yeah, time to go. Check on Liz first. Get some clothes on.

Liz.

Fuck, was that why he was alive? Savage had found Liz, done something to her, something he wanted Park to see?

Had he taken the sword and …?

No, the sword was lying right there next to him. Could have rolled on top of it, given himself a nasty cut.

Maybe Savage had shot her.

"Liz," Park shouted. "Liz?"

Something rattled as he pushed himself up. Then he realised why Savage hadn't killed him. The fucker had decided it'd be much more fun to leave him chained to the bed.

This required some thought.

The closet chain was indestructible. No point trying to chew through it, or pull it apart, or cut it in two with the sword. Couldn't move the bed cause he'd screwed the legs to the floor with L-brackets.

So there was no way he could get to Liz to find out if she was okay.

But Savage didn't know about Liz. He couldn't know about her.

Park looked at his watch. Effie and Martin should have been here by now. He just had to hope they'd arrive before the cops.

Sure. They would. Unless…

Oh, fuck.

Savage might have stopped them. Called them, let them know he'd got free, that the police were on their way. That's why Savage had left him alive. That's why he'd left the sword. Because if Effie wasn't coming, there was only one way Park could escape.

Park couldn't do that. Never mind the pain, he'd pass out from the sight of his blood. He'd just have to sit here and wait.

Sit and wait. Get caught. Go back to prison. And stay there forever, no chance of parole, yet again. He'd killed a couple of cops. He was well fucked.

Meanwhile Savage would remain alive. And free.

That wasn't right. There had to be a way out.

But Park couldn't see it just now. He tried to figure out how Savage's mind was working. He was feverish and insane and no doubt simmering with rage, but chances were he'd gone looking for his kid. Left for Fraser's house. Maybe found Effie and Martin there. Park had faith in them. Savage had only got the better of him because of his blood phobia. And Savage was weak and …

The gun. Savage had taken it. No matter how weak he was, he could muster the strength to pull the trigger. He'd managed a half-decent strike with the sword, after all. So if he'd found Effie, Park didn't fancy her chances. Fuck, yeah, she could look after herself and had Martin for backup but they'd be hard pushed to beat a crazy man with a gun and a good reason to use it.

Park looked at his watch again. Yeah, if they were coming, they'd surely have been here by now.

"Liz," he shouted. "Liz! Please, I need you. Liz!"

No answer. Of course.

He picked up the sword. When he sliced the air with it, his ribs felt like they'd been kicked all over again. Fuck that. He drove the blade deep into the floor. It was sharp. But was it sharp enough? He figured he'd only have one blow. One chance. He had to get it right. He wriggled the blade out.

Okay. Okay, okay, okay. He'd do it. He had to.

Effie needed him, if she wasn't dead already. And he had to believe she was still alive. And if she was, then he was going to be there for her.

Liz needed him even more.

He couldn't afford to be selfish.

Had to make sure he didn't see the arm, the blood spurting, the
nnnnngah
blood on the floor or anywhere on the rest of his body. Essential if he was going to do this and get away with it. Didn't trust himself not to look at the damage.

He took off his watch, placed it on the floor. Then dragged Savage's discarded blanket over to him. It stank like a public toilet. He made a nick in it with the sword, then ripped it down a couple of feet. Tore that strip from the rest of the blanket. Did the same with a second strip. Looped it twice around his left arm, a couple of inches above his watch line. If he cut his hand off, he'd lose the tattoo. Who wanted to be decorated with a picture of barbed wire, anyway? Seemed like a good idea at the time. Different, you know. Everybody else with the barbed wire round their bicep, and Park with his round his wrist. Anyway, no loss. He tied the other strip over his eyes. An effective enough blindfold. Fumbled around for the ends of the strip wrapped round his wrist. Pulled them tight, stuck them in his mouth. Tasted something stale and sour. Started to salivate like he'd sucked a lemon. Clamped his jaws tight, felt the muscles in his cheeks dancing a frenzied jig.

He straightened his arm. The material round his wrist tightened. Squeezed his hand into a fist.

Groped for the sword. Grabbed the handle. Held the blade over his wrist. Lowered it so the metal touched his skin.

Lined up. Ready.

Didn't want to do this. He so didn't want to do this. But it happened all the time, every day. Some countries, you stole something, you got your hand cut off. He'd stolen plenty. He just had to pretend he was foreign. No big deal.

At least it was his left hand he was going to lose. Couldn't punch worth a damn with his left. He'd hardly notice it was gone.

In fact, he'd be glad to be rid of it. Fucking thing just got in the way.

Yeah. Okay.

Ready?

Go for it.

He lifted the sword.

***

"YOU'RE SICK," TOMMY said. "That camera ..." A minute, then he continued. "What you did to Fraser." No reaction. "Your … bits hanging out." Again, nothing. Fucking crazy bitch. He'd provoke a reaction. "Your father was revelling in it."

She looked at him. "It was for you. Not for Dad."

"His eyes were glued to the set. Ogling his own daughter like the sick animal he is."

She smiled. "That's impossible."

"Oh, yeah? Were you there in the room with us?" Then he realised what she meant. Fuck the bastard and his fear of blood. "You wanted to see what I've done with that piece of shit?" Tommy said. "Okay. Let's take a drive back to Mrs Yardie's."

Park had wanted Tommy to see his family murdered. No reason why Tommy shouldn't do the same. The cottage was only about half a mile away. Okay, there might be police there by now. More police. Ones that were still alive. But Park seemed confident the ones he'd shot wouldn't be missed for a while.Only one way to find out. If they saw any sign of a police presence, they could just head on by and leave them to get on with their work.

Jordan dabbed at his swollen lip with the back of his hand. Licked blood off it. "Dad," he said. "I want to go home."

Tommy ruffled his son's hair with his thumb. "Me too," he said. "And we will. Just as soon as we're done with Effie and her dad."

***

WHEN THEY ARRIVED, Effie nestled the van behind Old Mrs Yardie's car and turned off the engine. Savage stared straight ahead. She thought again about making a grab for the gun, but despite the direction of his gaze, the gun was trained on her.