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.

12

ASH MURRAY DREAMED strange dreams. Sometimes she saw her mother’s face in them, smiling down at her. Then her mother’s face would turn into Dora’s, and Dora would be forcing medicine into Ash’s mouth, holding her nose to make her drink it, singing nursery rhymes as she worked, the rhymes taking Ash back to the sunny white days of her childhood …

Her eyes snapped open and everything seemed terribly bright. She blinked rapidly, turning her head from side to side. Something tight and itchy had been placed round her neck. She looked up and saw the rope tied round a crossbeam a few feet above her head. That was when Ash realised that she was wearing a noose. Her head felt thick and heavy, as if she had a really bad hangover. Her mouth was so dry she couldn’t even swallow.

Looking round, she saw that she was back in the living room in the lodge. Daylight flowed in through the windows, and she could hear birdsong coming from outside. She gasped when she saw Nick’s body lying sprawled at the foot of the staircase, one leg twisted at a weird angle, where it had caught under a step. Thankfully his face was turned away from her. He was wearing the same clothes he’d been in when they’d gone walking – an event that seemed like another life to Ash now – including the black North Face fleece she’d bought him two Christmases ago. His bare legs, usually one of his most attractive features, had gone a strange grey colour.

She tried to whisper his name but all that came out was a toad-like croak. Tears stung her eyes. She had to hold him one last time, even if it was the last thing she ever did. But as she moved to go towards him, she looked down and saw that she was standing on a chair. If she stepped off it, the rope would tighten and she’d be left hanging in mid-air.

She grabbed at the noose, hunting for the knot with shaking, fumbling fingers.

‘Don’t bother, my love. I’m right behind you. All I have to do is give that chair a little kick and you’ll be throttled like one of last year’s chickens.’

Ash froze, wondering what new nightmare was in store for her as Dora walked into view, stopping in front of her. Ash could have kicked the old lady full in the face, but to do so risked knocking herself off the chair and she could see that Dora knew that. The old lady was giving her one of her friendly smiles, but there was a cruel twinkle in her eye. It made Ash think of nasty little boys pulling the legs off spiders.

‘What’s going on?’ Ash asked her, the words coming out in a thick slur.

‘I was waiting for you to wake up, my love. You see, I want to watch you suffer after what you did to my Stuart. I don’t want you to die peacefully in your sleep. I want to see you dangle and kick. I want to see your face change colour while the life chokes out of you.’

She stepped forward, a foot touching one of the chair legs, looking up at Ash as she did so, lapping up her fear. She was still wearing the same dress and pinafore, her hair in the same bun. Even now Ash found it hard to grasp that this old lady in front of her was just about to end her life.

‘Why?’ she whispered.

‘I told you. You killed my youngest child. Beat him like an animal. You’re going to have to pay for that.’

‘We just tried to help the girl.’ Ash was finding her voice again now. ‘That’s all we did. Who was she?’

Something crossed the old lady’s features then. Was it regret? ‘She’s just one of many,’ she answered with a sigh.

‘But why do you do it?’ Suddenly Ash had to know, even though she knew it would do no good. ‘Why do you kidnap girls?’

‘I don’t, my love. They’re nothing to do with me. My sons just look after them, and make sure they don’t escape. Which this time they didn’t do a very good job of. The girls belong to the man who owns the estate – the banker from London. He likes to have his way with them. You know what men are like. But some men are worse than others. And our lord of the manor has some strange tastes. He has his way with the girls, and when he’s finished with them, my boys clean up the mess.’

‘Oh God.’

‘I’m afraid God doesn’t spend time up in these parts, my love. It’s the Devil’s work that we do here. It’s not nice. Not for any of us. But needs must when he comes calling. And the lord pays us very well. Very well indeed. It was just unfortunate that you got caught up in it. A case of the wrong place at the wrong time, I’m afraid. That was Stuart’s fault. The girl should never have got away. The problem was, as soon as she ran into you, you all had to die. There is no way we can afford to let the secret of the manor get out, and have the police sniffing round here. We’re all too involved for that. Stuart’s paid the price for his mistake. And now it’s your turn.’

Ash didn’t know what to say. It was almost impossible to believe there were people out there who could murder young women for pleasure, and others who protected their secrets for money. Maybe it happened far more than she was aware of. After all, Ash had led a sheltered, middle-class life. She knew nothing of the grim lives of the thousands of young foreign women in the country. Many of them were probably disappearing every day with no one to notice their absence.

‘What’s the matter, my love? Cat got your tongue?’

‘You’ll never get away with this,’ Ash told her, desperately hoping she was right. Someone had to be punished for this atrocity. For the murder of her beloved husband, for the murders of Guy and Tracy, for all the other unsolved killings. And for the murder of Ash herself, because right then she knew that she was going to die.