Читать книгу Fatal - Jacqui Rose, Jacqui Rose - Страница 22

‘You saw her, but you thought it was okay to let her go?’ Salvatore stared at Stefano Greco – an old schoolfriend who’d worked for his family for the past ten years – with unadulterated hatred.

‘I didn’t, Sal, I fired and then she ran off before I managed …’

Standing by the door of the tiny whitewashed chapel of the convent, Salvatore raised his voice, pacing agitatedly. ‘She’s a kid and you had a fucking semi-automatic in your hands. Do the math, Stefano … What did she look like?’

‘Blonde … no, maybe brown hair … I dunno, Jesus. I didn’t see her properly, Sal, but look around you, everyone’s dead, she might be dead already, we don’t even know if that girl was her.’

Salvatore smashed an iron bar into Stefano’s face and listened to his piercing scream as one of his cheekbones splintered in two.

Panting, Salvatore crouched down level with the writhing figure on the floor. Fear knotted Stefano’s insides, suddenly aware that he could easily lose control of his bodily functions, such was the terror he felt.

Salvatore snarled, ‘But we don’t know it wasn’t either, do we? And now it might be too late. If it was her, we need to go and find her. My orders, Stef, were to kill everyone on sight.’

Stefano trembled in pain. ‘Sal, Mi dispiace.’

‘You’re sorry?’

With fear dancing in his green eyes, Stefano nodded. ‘Sì! Sì!’

Licking his chapped lips, Salvatore picked up a taper and lit one of the candles in the rack outside the chapel. He made a sign of the cross before watching it burn along with the dozens of other tea lights flickering in the warm breeze. He smiled.

‘Do you know what these are for, Stefano?’

Nervously, Stefano mumbled, ‘Sì, they are the candles for the dead.’

Salvatore drew his eyes away to look at Stefano. ‘That’s right, and I lit that one for you.’ Then, without missing a beat, Salvatore whipped out the gun he had tucked away in his trouser waist and placed the nozzle onto Stefano’s nicotine-stained teeth before casually pulling the trigger.

Wiping away the blood and pieces of flesh from the front of his clothes, still wearing his clown mask, Salvatore addressed his brother. ‘Bobby, put his body in the car and clean up his mess, we don’t want to leave the cops a calling card. Then take some men and search down by the river. I’ll take the others and go up into the woods. If you see anything, even a fucking racoon, you shoot it dead. You hear me?’

He stopped to point his gun at the congregated men, adding, ‘You understand me, guys? Whoever she was, you bring that girl’s head back to me, unless of course you want to end up like our good friend Stefano. Now let’s go!’

Racing through the trees and across the meadows, Alice tried to shut out the bloody images in her head. She tried to think of something good, like her mother, like her friend Isaiah, but it was impossible because she could still hear the screams, still smell the blood. The scent of death seeped out of her pores and she was scared, terrified and couldn’t think straight.

Running as fast as she could, drenched with sweat and not knowing where she was going, she just knew she had to keep moving. Alice focused on getting away, but the problem was, even though she knew the area so well – had explored every corner of it – suddenly every tree, every bush, every pathway looked the same. She couldn’t remember anything.

The lake house was on the top of the hill, she knew that, but which track to take she couldn’t remember. She was lost and if she wasn’t careful she’d end up back at the convent where the demonic clowns were. Where the blood was. The thought of it made her suddenly gasp and she could hardly catch her breath, but a noise from behind sent her scrabbling forward. Seeing a clump of bushes, Alice threw herself underneath it, squeezing her eyes shut as the tears rolled down her face again.

‘Alice! Alice! It’s no good hiding, honey. We just want to talk to you.’

The scrub was vast, allowing Alice to scramble backwards on her stomach, her skin snagging on sharp thorns and bushes, but she didn’t make a noise. Ignoring the pain and blood trickling down her face, Alice saw six … seven … eight clowns all walking in her direction.

‘Alice!’

Shaking, Alice glanced behind her. She looked across to one of the meadows, a thought coming to mind.

Creeping backwards, Alice kept low to the ground, watching out for any branches that might snap and make a sound. Nearing the fenced meadow, Alice nervously glanced about. Breathing deeply, she tried to steady her nerves and racing heart.

She burst out of the shrub, ran along the edge of the field and made her way to the small copse, whispering a name, quietly and softly so as not to spook him. ‘Mac! Mac!’ A few seconds later, the convent’s retired pony ambled into sight.

‘You’re going to get us out of here, aren’t you, boy?’

Opening the gate as silently as she could, Alice walked into Mac’s paddock and grabbed his head collar from a wooden post.

Wiping the sweat from her hands, she gently approached Mac and slid the noseband over his white muzzle, all the time talking softly as she guided it over his ears.

‘There you go, boy, there you go.’

After making sure it was secure, Alice looped the rope over his head, tying it gently to both sides of the head collar. Not seeing anything she could climb on, she placed her left hand on Mac’s withers, holding onto his mane, before jumping and swinging her leg energetically over his back.

With her voice trembling, Alice continued to speak to Mac, reassuring herself as much as him. ‘Sshhh, boy, it’s okay. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.’

Holding the rope, Alice ducked down, avoiding the low-hanging trees as she moved Mac slowly forward. She stared at the horizon. Over by the far field she could see two of the clowns pointing towards the trees where she was hidden. Her heart began to race faster again and Mac, sensitive to fear, began to get edgy, backing up and circling around.

She needed to move, to get to the far corner, which she suddenly remembered would take her over the bridge and along the path to the road. She also needed to make sure she stayed on the far side of the meadow, but this could be her chance … perhaps her only chance.

Eagerly and with the tiniest glimmer of hope, Alice squeezed her legs to get Mac to move forward again. It’d been a long time since she’d ridden and it was certainly a long time since anybody had got on him. But if they could do it, if they could ride away, then she’d be able to get to the road and to help. The thought made her feel braver.

Taking a deep breath, Alice leant forward and whispered into Mac’s ears as they hid in the shadows of the trees. Then, with one almighty kick, deciding it was now or never, she set off across the fields with Mac, who was so startled he immediately cantered before transitioning into a gallop, head down and looking like a horse ten years younger.

Alice was going at such speed tears were streaming down her cheeks, caused by the wind blowing hard in her face as well as her fear. She didn’t dare to look back as she galloped towards the end of the meadow, through the long grass covered in daisies and towards the stream in the far corner.

A sound of guns firing had Alice clinging onto Mac’s mane as she lost her balance for a moment, sliding to the side, but she could feel Mac giving it his best effort, sensing her terror.

‘Come on, boy, come on! We’re nearly there.’

Then, after jumping over the small stream and into the woods, Alice slowed Mac, giving him a chance to get his breath back before steeling herself to turn around.

In the distance she could see the clowns, but they were too far back to catch up. If she kept going up towards the road, which was a few miles along, she could hopefully flag someone over.

With tears of relief, full of determination, Alice ducked her head under the trees as Mac set off into a trot, heading up the hill to safety.

It felt to Alice like she’d been riding for hours, with the bushes and branches snatching and scratching on her skin, but finally she could see the road up ahead.

Exhausted, she guided Mac onto the lane, but a sense of dread engulfed her. Out of the trees she felt exposed and vulnerable on the wide tarmacked road, which wound and weaved through the hills. But there was no other route; the track she’d been on fell away, so the only means to get help was to continue along the lane.

As they walked along, Alice felt as if every noise and every movement of the trees was danger lying in wait. Then a sudden sound of a car behind them triggered Alice’s panic. She trembled in terror, sweat pricking at her forehead. She didn’t dare look back, even though the car was getting nearer and she could almost feel the heat from the engine. She tried to push Mac on to go faster, but the hard ground was too much for his unshod feet. Then Alice heard what she’d been dreading, the sound of the car door opening and feet running towards her.

A hand on her arm grabbed her, making her scream.

‘Alice! Alice! Stop, stop, it’s me.’

Covered in Sister Margaret’s blood, Alice stared at Cabhan. Her voice was almost unrecognisable. ‘Dad?’

‘Yes, baby, it’s me.’

Alice broke down in tears of relief as she leant forward, burying her face in Mac’s mane. ‘They killed her, Dad! They killed her! They just shot her and then … and then they began to call out my name.’

‘What?’ Cabhan’s voice was sharp with concern, though his hands were still gentle as he held onto his precious daughter.

Alice nodded frantically, her nose and eyes streaming. ‘Yeah, they kept calling out for me.’

‘Okay, okay, honey. Alice, Sshhh, it’s going to be okay, baby. Look who’s here with me.’

Alice glanced up into the face of Franny.

‘Hi, sweetheart,’ Franny said, her voice full of warmth and tenderness. ‘I’m so sorry you’ve been through all this, but we’re going to get you out of here. Like your dad says, it’s going to be all right, though we need to get you off this road and into the car.’

Distressed, Alice cried out, ‘What about Mac? I can’t leave him. He saved me.’

Franny smiled at Alice, speaking as gently as she could. ‘He’ll find his way home, the convent’s over there. He’ll be okay.’

Panic-stricken and wide-eyed, Alice cried as Franny glanced at Cabhan, ‘But they’re all dead, Franny.’

Wanting to, but not allowing herself to break down, Franny knew that she had to stay calm and she spoke a little more firmly. ‘Okay, baby, we’ll call someone; we’ll make sure they go and look after him. I promise you, he’ll be all right, okay?’

Alice nodded, trembling as Franny continued to talk. ‘But, Alice, we really need to get you off this road. I want to get you to a safer place.’

Franny turned to whisper to Cabhan as he lifted Alice off Mac, watching the woods.

‘It’s got to be them. It’s got to be Salvatore. This isn’t some random, crazed shooting. We need to get out of here before they find us and before the police get here. We need to disappear.’

Cabhan nodded, the full horror of the situation beginning to hit him as well. Why they’d thought it was some American-style school shooting, he didn’t know. Why hadn’t he just put two and two together, or maybe he had, maybe he just hadn’t wanted to believe it was the Russos.

‘Are you hurt?’ he asked Alice, wiping away the nun’s blood still covering her.

Alice shook her head against his chest, cradled in Cabhan’s arms as he carried her towards the car. He kissed her, whispering words he knew in his heart were hollow. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s all over now. Everything’s going to be all right.’

As Franny got in the car after quickly glancing back towards the woods, Cabhan gently placed Alice on the back seat, covering her with a blanket as she continued to shiver. And in the distance, in the shadow of the trees, stood Salvatore Russo, watching as Cabhan drove away at speed, and he smiled.