‘But you must eat something.’

‘Please, can I just have a cup of tea?’

Dora tried not to look disappointed. ‘As you wish, my love. I’ll get the kettle on.’

‘Do you have a toilet I could use?’

‘We certainly do, my love. It’s even an inside one.’ She winked and grinned playfully at Ash as she pointed to a door beside the staircase.

‘I really appreciate this,’ Ash told her. She thought about asking for a shower too but decided against it since she’d only have to get back into her wet clothes afterwards.

‘It’s the least I can do,’ said Dora, shuffling past her into the kitchen.

Something was wrong. Ash had no idea what it was but it was worrying her. Was Dora hiding something? Or was Ash just imagining it? Had the events of the previous night made her so paranoid that she was now suspicious of everything, including even a friendly old lady?

A friendly old lady who lived out in the woods near to where a mass murder had been committed, but who seemed unconcerned by what had happened.

Ash locked the toilet door behind her and took a deep breath, telling herself to calm down. A mirror in dire need of a clean hung on the bare wall just above the sink. Ash wanted to weep when she saw herself in it. She looked exactly like she felt. Her face was puffy and bruised beneath smears of encrusted dirt, and there were scratches all across her cheeks and forehead. One eye was swollen and black, and her thick auburn hair, usually one of her best features, looked like it belonged on a scarecrow. But it was the haunted expression in her eyes that affected her the most. For a good ten seconds she stared at her reflection, finding it difficult to accept it.

Yet when she’d suddenly stepped out of nowhere in Dora’s garden, rather than run a mile the old lady had been kind enough to take her in. Ash was suddenly ashamed for suspecting Dora of meaning her harm.

That was until she turned and saw something on the floor, poking out from just behind the toilet, and her hand went to her mouth to stifle the gasp.

11

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.