ASH BENT DOWN, carefully picked up the heavily bloodstained ball of tissue, and touched it. The blood was dry, but from its colour she could tell it wasn’t very old.
She slipped the tissue back behind the toilet, and her hand brushed against something else. It felt like a picture frame. She pulled it out and stared at the faded photograph behind the glass.
It had been taken outside the front of the cottage. Dora was standing in the centre, wearing a bright floral dress and a big smile. She looked a good ten years younger. Flanking her were two unsmiling teenage boys with pale faces and red hair, one three or four years older than the other. It was obvious from their red hair and freckled faces that they were brothers.
It was also obvious that the younger of the two was the man she’d killed the previous night.
Ash swallowed, squinting at the photo. It might have been taken a long time back, and Ash might have been sick and exhausted, but she was absolutely sure it was him. It wasn’t the kind of face she was ever going to forget.
She put the photo back where she’d found it and stood up, no longer able to think about going to the toilet. She had to get out of there. The man she’d killed was Dora’s son and she’d bet her life that the second man hunting them, the one who’d shot at her in the woods, was the other son. Did they live here? It would explain the bloody tissue. It might also explain the fact that the photo was shoved behind the toilet rather than hanging on the wall where it could be seen. The other son would have known that Ash had seen his brother’s face, so would want any evidence of his identity hidden just in case she, Ash, showed up.
Which almost certainly meant that Dora was a part of this too.
But why would an elderly woman be involved in murder, not to mention the possible kidnapping and rape of young foreign women? That’s what Ash simply couldn’t understand.
It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she got out of there, and fast.
After flushing the toilet, she slowly opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. She could hear Dora singing to herself in soft, lilting tones in the kitchen. It set Ash’s teeth on edge, because the sound seemed so wrong coming from a woman who’d given birth to the two psychopaths who’d hunted her and her friends down. She looked over at the phone in the corner of the living room, wondering who it was Dora had been phoning. She was sure now that it hadn’t been the police.
Heart hammering in her chest, Ash crept over and picked up the phone, glancing over her shoulder to check that Dora was still busy before pressing the redial button.
The call went straight to a recorded message for a mobile phone.
Not the police.
Ash took a deep breath, put down the phone, and started towards the front door. As soon as she was outside she’d make a break for it, head back into the forest, try to find another house somewhere. There had to be someone round here who wasn’t involved in whatever the hell was going on.
She tried to turn the handle but it didn’t move. The door was locked and there was no sign of a key.
‘What’s wrong, my love? Where are you going? I’ve got your tea here.’
Ash turned round far too quickly, like a naughty schoolkid who’s been caught doing something wrong. She tried to look as casual as possible. ‘I was just going outside for some fresh air. I don’t feel too good.’
‘Sorry, I always keep that door double-locked.’
No, you don’t. I saw you walk out of it ten minutes ago.
‘Why don’t you sit down and have a nice cup of tea?’ Dora smiled and held up the steaming mug. ‘The police’ll be here soon.’
‘If I could just go outside.’
‘Of course you can, my love. No one’s stopping you. Go out through the kitchen door. Take your tea with you.’ She stepped aside, still smiling.
Ash could feel the adrenalin coursing through her, yet the situation seemed so utterly unreal that she was actually worried about appearing rude. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I just need a few gulps of fresh air.’
‘Course you do, my love. You’ve had a hard time of it.’
Dora held out the mug and Ash took it, instinctively putting it to her lips.
The old lady watched her carefully. She had incredibly bright blue eyes. There was a warmth in them that seemed to drag Ash right in. ‘Drink, my love,’ she said quietly.
Ash felt dizzy and exhausted. She so wanted to sip the tea, to feel its warmth running through her. To sit down and forget all the terrible things that had happened.
Something glinted in Dora’s eyes, something cold and triumphant, and the spell was broken.
‘I’ll have it in a minute.’ Ash smiled and turned to put the mug down, every nerve and muscle in her body ready for flight.
With remarkable speed, Dora’s hand flew out, knocking the boiling hot tea all over Ash’s face and upper body.
Ash screamed in shock and pain and leaped backwards. Dora grabbed her wrist and yanked her back, then placed her in a fierce headlock that immediately choked off Ash’s air supply.
The old lady’s grip was incredibly strong. Ash’s vision began to blur as she fought to break free, trying but failing to dig her elbow into Dora’s ribs. What little strength she had left was fading fast. Her whole body soon felt like it was on fire.
‘You little whore,’ hissed Dora in her ear. ‘You murdered my son. You’re going to pay for that. We’re going to have you begging for your life.’
Ash tried to shout out to her, to ask why, what had she ever done to deserve this? All she wanted to do was go home to her family. But all that came out was a long, drawn-out rasping sound. Blue lights flickered in front of Ash’s eyes. She was passing out. She wasn’t going to make it.
She had to. There was no choice.
Ash Murray does not give up.
With one last burst of energy, she brought her heel down hard on Dora’s toes. The old lady yelped, her grip loosened, and Ash yanked herself out of it. She swung round and punched Dora hard in the face, finding it hard to accept the fact that now she was violently assaulting a senior citizen.
Dora cried out and tumbled back on to her threadbare sofa, one hand on her jaw, a shocked expression on her face. It looked as if she couldn’t believe Ash would do such a horrible thing as punch an old woman. ‘You slut!’ she screamed, her features screwing up into a mask of fury. ‘I’ll have you for that!’
But Ash was already out of the room and running through the kitchen, pulling open the door, knowing the woods and freedom were only yards away …
She stopped dead. He was in the doorway, a huge man dressed all in black, a mask covering his face. Looking just like the man who’d murdered Nick, even down to the knife he carried in one gloved hand.
‘Oh God.’
The fight went out of Ash then. It was replaced by a dark and heavy acceptance that the end had come.
She tried to run back the way she’d come, but he was on her in a second, wrapping his arms round her in a massive bearhug and lifting her up. The tip of the knife blade sat painfully against her throat as he walked her further into the kitchen, her legs flailing uselessly beneath her.
‘Ah, I see you’ve met my other son,’ said Dora. The smile was gone from her face, replaced by a dirty scowl. ‘Now don’t fuck things up this time, Rory. Keep hold of her. She’s a feisty little whore.’
‘She’s nae going anywhere, Ma,’ grunted Rory. ‘Not this time.’
Ash screamed, the effort making her lungs ache. Her throat hurt where it pushed into the blade, cutting the skin.
Dora, the big jolly lady in dress and pinafore, just laughed and opened up one of the kitchen cupboards. She removed a bottle of dark liquid and a filthy-looking rag. She poured a generous slug of the liquid on to the rag, keeping her face turned away from it. ‘Scream all you like, my love,’ she said, coming closer. ‘Only the animals will hear you out here.’
‘Please,’ gasped Ash, making one last effort to save herself. ‘I just want to go home.’
Dora shook her head, almost sadly. ‘Sorry, my love, but that’s not going to happen.’
She lifted her hand and pushed the rag into Ash’s face. The whole of Ash’s world seemed to explode.
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