All Fall Down: A gripping psychological thriller with a twist that will take your breath away (18 page)

S
he had studied
the man as he got out of the car. There was something about his movement, his attitude, that told her exactly who he was, why he was here, what he wanted. . . and Georgia was ten years old again, in bed, fed up and lonely and trying to sleep the day away.

It was a Tuesday in term-time – maths, science and then games – and the night before she’d exaggerated the symptoms of a headache enough to be given the next day off. Mum didn’t care either way: she was pissed up on the sofa.

Mark turned up at about midday, off his head as usual. He’d had a key copied, secretly, when he realised the relationship was coming to an end. Georgia was woken by loud swearing, followed by the crash of a plate being thrown against the wall.

Then a shout which turned into a scream, the very worst sound she had ever heard. And it wasn’t just meaningless noise – Georgia understood that later, in hospital, when she could finally bear to go over what had happened.

Her mum had been trying to call out a warning. Not Georgia’s name, which would have revealed the girl’s presence. As messed up as she was, her mum had been smart enough to try for ‘
GET OUT
’, knowing Burroughs would assume it was directed at him.

Except it hadn’t worked. Georgia’s first thought was that Mum was in trouble. She needed help. Georgia couldn’t just run away.

She was halfway down the stairs before she realised her mistake – it was too late. By then it wasn’t even her mum any more; just a body, and that moment would be forever seared in her mind: the body, and the knife Mark Burroughs was holding; the blood on the knife and on Burroughs, and the way he had looked up and seen her frozen in place—

It couldn’t happen again. She had to be quicker this time. Quieter. Smarter.

She peeked out of the window, making sure the other man had stayed in the car. Though the sky still glowed with pale light, the landscape was a mass of shadows. Easy to imagine movement in the lane and across the fields: an army of bad guys creeping up on them.

The driver would see her if she tried climbing out of her window. Besides, it was too far to fall. Better to go out through Mum and Dad’s room, where she could climb on to the conservatory roof, then down into the back garden.

She heard voices from below. The man had come inside, but no one was screaming or shouting – yet. Probably they were trying to keep him calm, keep him talking. . .

Giving me time to fetch help!
The thought jolted her, but also made her proud. This was her family. It was her job to save them.

She crept across the landing, shivering at a flashback of that cold, smelly house in Southsea, Burroughs yelling abuse as he tore up the stairs, Georgia nearly wetting herself when she realised he was going to stab her, was going to open her up and let the blood pour out—

Swallowing down an urge to vomit, she made it to the bedroom window, her heart hammering as she gripped the frame and climbed out. The conservatory roof was only plastic and didn’t feel very strong, so she quickly eased down to the front edge, already planning what came next – finding a route through the field in the dark, out to the road and then running full speed to the village to fetch help and call the police. . .

Could have been out on a date tonight
– that crazy thought came to her as she dropped to the grass and landed with a groan. She’d been thinking about Milo a lot: a silly fantasy where she’d stayed behind in Petersfield, ten days with the whole house to herself, Milo taking her to dinner, somewhere posh with candles on the table and expensive champagne; afterwards, as he walked her home, they’d start kissing, and the kissing would lead to—

Save it for later
. Georgia stood up, tested her ankles and then, wincing, took a few quick steps across the garden. . . and there he was.

Milo.

She nearly fainted. This was bad news, really bad, to be hallucinating. . .

Except it
was
him. Milo. Right there in front of her, in three dimensions. Totally real.

He was breathing fast with excitement, his eyes colder than yesterday, cold and sort of blank. Right away she knew that he hadn’t come to rescue her. In any case, how could he have known—?

She opened her mouth just as he slammed into her, knocking the air from her lungs and shutting off the scream that her mum – her poor dead flesh-and-blood mum – would have regarded as pathetic. No help to anyone.

W
endy placed
the sound as coming from the back of the house. Evan was closest to the kitchen, and he sped off without a word. After a second, Josh followed his brother, while Rob rounded on Nyman, lifting the brandy bottle as if to strike. ‘What have you done?’

‘Nothing.’ But there was a trace of doubt in Nyman’s face. ‘If Gary’s disobeyed me, I’ll sort him out myself.’

His confusion sounded genuine enough, and both Wendy and Rob were too disorientated to do anything but follow him out of the room. Nyman wrestled with the unfamiliar catch on the front door, finally pulling it open, but as he stepped outside a giant shadow loomed into his path.

‘What the fuck—’ he managed to gasp, then fell at their feet.

M
ilo had
one hand clamped over her mouth, the other twisting her arm painfully behind her back. He marched Georgia, tripping and stumbling, along the side of the house, a few weak moans of protest escaping from her throat.

As they reached the corner, she heard a scuffle from the lane. The view was partially hidden by her dad’s Land Rover, but she could see part of the visitor’s car, the man behind the wheel twisting and jerking in his seat as if being electrocuted.

Then Georgia saw why.

There was another figure crouched by the car, tall and slim and dressed in black, stabbing the driver in a frenzy of violence that made Georgia feel dizzy with shock. She shut her eyes and once again Mark Burroughs was behind her on the stairs, grabbing her ankle as she threw herself out of the window, slashing at her leg as she fell. . .

She vomited. With a cry of disgust, Milo whipped his hand away from her mouth, but clung on as she toppled forward and landed heavily on her knees. It felt like her heart had stopped. Points of dazzling light danced in her head, and she thought,
This is the end
.

Gasping and spitting, she was hauled to her feet. She heard the front door open and turned in time to see the visitor step out. But he hadn’t noticed the figure lying in wait by the door, a huge man who punched him in the stomach with the force of a battering ram.

The visitor collapsed. Behind him, Mum and Dad were crowded together in the doorway, open-mouthed with shock. The attacker, she realised, was the man who’d mistaken Rob for some actor from
Game of Thrones
.

The figure by the car hurried towards them. It was the woman from this afternoon – only now her hair was spikier, her face pale and cold. Much more like it had been in the café on Wednesday.

Ilsa. A little out of breath, and splattered with the blood of the man she’d just killed, but otherwise quite happy. Pleased with herself.

‘Hello, Georgia,’ she said.

R
ob saw
Nyman go down and briefly thought that someone had come to their rescue. That notion survived for barely a second, until he saw the identity of Nyman’s attacker.

The enormous, overbearing man from the motorway services, Gabriel, had stepped back from Nyman’s body and was watching Rob carefully. A young blonde woman appeared from behind him, blocking any possible escape route across the drive. At the opposite corner, Georgia was in the clutches of a stocky, round-faced young man, while the woman who’d been with Gabriel this afternoon strode confidently towards them, holding a knife in one hand and something else, hidden by her side, in the other.

With a triumphant smile, Ilsa displayed the object for them all to see.

It was a gun.

W
endy could only stand
and stare in horror. It gave her little comfort to know that Rob was equally overwhelmed, and less still when Josh burst from the house, skidding to a halt behind them.

‘Are you—?’ he began, then: ‘Oh, fuck.’

‘Where’s. . .’ Wendy managed to stop herself from mentioning Evan. She tried to divert their attention by confronting the man with Georgia. ‘Leave my daughter alone!’

He ignored her, glancing instead at the couple who’d so unnerved them this afternoon. Gabriel and Ilsa were in charge, she guessed, and the threat they posed couldn’t be clearer now the woman was pointing a gun at Rob.

Sounding remarkably unafraid, he said, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘You’ll find out,’ Gabriel replied calmly. His accent was Home Counties English, not American. Then another woman emerged from his shadow, slim and blonde, and Wendy recoiled.

‘Lara?’

There was no doubt that this was the girl who’d conned her way into the house on Thursday – and Ilsa must have been in the café, just as Georgia had claimed. . .

They followed us here
, Wendy thought. All of them, working together.

There was a weak moan from Nyman. He was curled in a foetal position, clutching his stomach. The sound almost obscured a noise from the side of the house; Wendy prayed they hadn’t heard it, but Ilsa gave a predatory twitch.

‘There’s one missing.’

‘Round the back,’ Gabriel called, and with that Wendy dropped the pretence and screamed: ‘Evan, run! Get the police!’

Gabriel snatched the gun from Ilsa as she dashed past, bringing it to bear on them just as Rob took a step forward.

‘I’ll shoot you now if I have to,’ Gabriel said. ‘But I’d rather not spoil the fun.’

A
fter finding
no sign of Georgia in the back garden, Evan and Josh realised that all the activity was taking place out front. While Josh ran through the house, Evan decided it would be quicker if he took the path round the outside.

He was hurrying that way when a wiser instinct spoke up.
Don’t reveal yourself.
Wait till you know what you’re facing
.

He lifted the paring knife that he’d taken from the kitchen and crept up to the corner. His guess was that Nyman must have had men watching the house, who’d caught Georgia as she tried to get away. What a brave kid.

The security light was shining out front, which had the benefit of casting the sides of the house in deeper darkness. Evan thought he could risk a look without being seen, but the sight that greeted him was utterly surreal.

Georgia was just a few feet away, in the grasp of a pudgy, prosperous-looking man of about Evan’s age. Josh and his parents were hemmed in by the front door, with Nyman sprawled at their feet. Of the four people who seemed to have taken control, two were the couple who’d acted so strangely at the motorway rest stop.

Evan felt sick with confusion. If Nyman had been attacked, did that mean Gabriel and the others were the good guys? And why hadn’t Nyman’s driver intervened?

He took the risk of leaning a little further. The driver was just visible, slumped in his seat. Dark, wet patches on his face gleamed in the brightness of the halogen light.

Blood.

Then the woman, Ilsa, barked: ‘There’s one missing.’ Evan turned and sprinted along the path, dimly aware of his mum urging him to get away.

Reaching the lawn, he cursed as he triggered another outside light. But the bottom of the garden was a welcoming pit of darkness. He aimed for a gap in the hedge that would allow him to squeeze through to the marshland beyond, and was almost there when a shape detached itself from the mass of shadows and brought him down in a clumsy but effective tackle.

Evan hit the ground sideways, jarring his right elbow and losing the knife. He almost snapped his wrist as he tried to roll and spread the force of the impact, but his movement was impeded by his attacker, who punched Evan in the groin and sent a shockwave of agony through his body. As he lay there, gasping for breath, Evan felt the vibration of running footsteps and understood that he wasn’t going to get away.

K
eeping
his family safe was the immediately priority, but at the back of Rob’s mind lay a hunch that a lot of things were about to become clear.

For a start, he saw that they were facing two different threats. Gabriel and the people with him had no connection to Nyman, and judging by the look on Ilsa’s face as she produced the gun, Rob guessed that she and Gabriel hadn’t brought it along.

It must have been taken from Nyman’s driver, who was now either dead or grievously wounded. Rob had little sorrow to spare for the man; nor was he naïve enough to think that Gabriel had done them any favours by attacking him.

Georgia was led into the house first, and they were warned that she would suffer if they tried to resist. As they filed in after her, Gabriel scooped Nyman off the ground as easily as Rob might lift a child. One by one they were frisked, and had phones, keys, money and even their belts taken away.

The gun was wielded by Lara, a young woman who looked vaguely familiar to Rob. The barrel trembled in her two-handed grip, and for a moment he was tempted to go for her. But in a confined space, even an accidental shot could be lethal.

No
, he thought. Evan was their best chance. He was fast, athletic, he knew the area.

They were herded into the living room and told to sit together on one of the sofas. Gabriel dumped Nyman on the floor. Rob barely registered his howl of pain because Ilsa had appeared in the doorway with Evan, conscious but groggy, propped up between her and a small, wiry man with a mess of dark hair.

‘S-sorry, guys. Ambushed.’ Evan spat blood as he spoke. He sank to the floor at Wendy’s feet, and now Rob had a clearer view of the man who had brought Evan in – a young man in his early twenties, perhaps, but who could easily pass for a teenager, especially when seen from a distance.

For Rob, it was like the last piece of the puzzle had dropped into place. But it was Josh who spoke first. ‘Can anyone tell me what the hell is going on here?’

‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ Gabriel said.

Nyman, lying face down, made an effort to roll over. ‘You’re a dead man,’ he gasped through the pain.

The apple-cheeked young man who’d captured Georgia kicked out at Nyman. ‘How dare you address the leader that way.’

‘Milo.’ Gabriel gave a shake of his head, and there was no missing the authority he wielded over the others.

‘I mean it,’ Nyman growled. ‘You messed with the wrong feller here.’

‘Really?’ Amused, Gabriel permitted Nyman to turn over and climb, shakily, to his knees. At the same time he gestured to Lara, indicating that she should hide the gun from view. ‘Let’s hear it, then.’

N
yman was furious with Gary
. Somehow he’d been rolled, sucker-punched – and yes, Gary had warned him not to go into the house alone. But the attack had actually come from outside, from this lumbering great beast of a man, which meant his enforcer had cocked up.

And where was Gary now? Why hadn’t he burst in and put things right?

Desperate to restore some dignity, Nyman tried to stand but got no further than his knees. The pain in his gut was a roaring fire, melting him from the inside. No matter how often he blinked, his vision kept distorting, making it hard to get a fix on his attackers.

The ringleader was a huge man, probably twenty stone of muscle and fat, who carried himself with surprising grace. Alongside him, there seemed to be four others, two male, two female. The older of the women was tall, thin, and hard-faced: to Nyman she looked like a lifelong protestor, an anarchist or one of those dykey peace campaigners, if they still existed. The other three were little more than kids, all with that easy, sneering confidence that comes from a middle-class upbringing. A bunch of pampered, wannabe rebels, then – maybe even friends of Josh or his brother?

‘I dunno what you’re doing here,’ Nyman told them, ‘and I don’t much care. Josh here owed me money, but it’s all settled now.’ He turned to the lad. ‘Isn’t that right?’

Josh shrugged. ‘I suspect you’re wasting your time.’

Nyman took in the family, hemmed in together on the couch: Josh, his mum and dad, his sister – and now he noticed that the other brother, the clean-cut version of Josh, wasn’t so clean-cut any more, slumped with his head on his mother’s knee.

They all looked shit scared, and Nyman knew that was the absolute worst thing. A situation like this, you had to bluff it out, not betray any sign of weakness.

‘I’ve had enough,’ he announced. He made an almighty effort to stand, but the big man pushed him back down. ‘I’m not part of whatever—’

‘Oh, you’re part of it. You
chose
to be part of it.’ The big guy waved to a pretty blonde girl who brought her hand out from behind her back. She was holding a gun.

‘That from Gary?’

The big man nodded. ‘He’s dead.’

Nyman put his hands over his face and swallowed back a sob.
Mary
, he thought, instantly forgetting all that crap about showing no weakness.

‘Look, please.’ From somewhere he’d found a humble tone. ‘This lot are nothing to do with me.’

‘We know that,’ the big man said, and the dykey woman said, ‘They’re ours, not yours.’

‘I dunno what you mean.’

‘It’s simple,’ the big man said. ‘Ilsa fed this address to the man in Canterbury who was looking for Josh. We followed him to see what he did with the information, and that led us to you.’

‘But. . .’ Nyman faltered as it dawned on him that this guy – and all the people with him – were totally unhinged. ‘Look, I don’t want them. Let me go and you can do what the hell you like.’

‘You’d contact the police,’ the blonde girl said.

‘Me? You gotta be kidding.’
No – crawl to them, remember
. ‘I wouldn’t, I swear.’

Christ, he hated to hear himself grovelling like this, but knew the stakes had never been higher. Then, out of nowhere, came the most unexpected support: ‘Let him go.’

It was Josh. He regarded Nyman with a sad, tender gaze.

‘And why should I do that?’ the big man asked, curiously.

‘Because his wife is dying.’

There were gasps; Nyman couldn’t tell exactly who had reacted, because he was staring, dumbfounded, at Josh. ‘How d’you know that?’

‘Everyone knows,’ Josh said. The pity in his voice tore at Nyman’s heart, but he already understood far better than this kid that it wasn’t going to cut any ice with the bastard standing over him.

Nyman knew exactly how it would play out now, and this was the moment when he had to accept the grim, appalling irony that he would never see his wife again, not because of
her
death – after all these long months of steeling himself to endure and survive that unimaginable loss – but because of his own.