‘Listen, I can explain,’ said the guy, putting up a hand and backing away from Scope. ‘It’s not what it looks like.’

‘Yes it is,’ said Scope, letting fly with a left hook when he was within range.

The punch connected perfectly with the guy’s chin and he flew backwards, his head striking the wall with a hard smack. Scope watched as he slumped to the floor, unconscious, feeling a cold anger that someone could do this to a young, defenceless girl who’d come here looking for help. He turned to her and, seeing that she’d stiffened and looked ready to make a run for it, he smiled. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘Your sister Jess asked me to come looking for you. Your name’s Casey, right?’

The little girl looked up at him with a suspicious expression, which didn’t surprise Scope, given what she must have been through today. ‘Who are you?’ she demanded.

It was imperative he got her to trust him, which meant telling her the truth. ‘My name’s Scope. I work for the canoe company you rented the canoes from.’

She nodded slowly, as if she was thinking through this information. ‘Is Jess okay?’ she asked eventually.

‘Yes. I helped her escape from the bad men, then gave her my phone so she could call the police.’

‘What about Amanda? Is she okay?’

Scope frowned. ‘I didn’t see anyone else. Who’s Amanda?’

‘She was being chased by the bad men too, and she jumped in Auntie Jean’s canoe, and that’s when it all started.’

‘So it’s Amanda that the bad men want. Do you know why?’

Casey shook her head. ‘No. She said she doesn’t know either.’

This was interesting, thought Scope. At least now he knew why the gunmen were here, and who they were after.

‘Scope’s a funny name,’ said Casey.

He shrugged. ‘It’s kind of my nickname. No one calls me anything else.’

‘Do you work for the nice man in the hat?’

‘Yes. His name’s Jock.’

‘That’s right. I remember him saying. Can you tell him we’ve lost the canoes?’

‘Don’t worry about them. In fact, don’t worry about anything. You’re safe now.’

‘That’s what he said.’ She nodded in the direction of the guy in the pyjama bottoms. ‘He locked me in here and tried to hurt me.’

‘I know he did.’

‘But I don’t know why. I didn’t do anything to him.’

Scope sighed. It broke his heart to see a young child’s innocence taken away from her in such a cruel manner. ‘Some people are just nasty,’ he told her. ‘But always remember, there aren’t very many of them. Most people are good. I promise you that.’

The man in the pyjamas started moaning and rubbing his head, although his eyes were still closed.

‘What are you going to do with him?’ asked Casey.

‘I’m going to make sure he can’t do you any more harm. Then I’m going to call the police and get them here as fast as possible. You just stay where you are.’

‘Can I go downstairs? It smells funny in here.’

He smiled. ‘Of course you can, but stay in the house. Those other bad men might be out there somewhere.’

Casey said she would, even managing to give Scope a small smile in return, and got up off the bed.

Scope waited until she’d left the room, then hauled the guy to his feet. He was a big guy, but one who was well out of shape. He still looked dazed and it was possible he was concussed, given how hard he’d hit the wall. Scope didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, someone like him deserved everything he got. He half dragged, half carried him from the room and down the stairs. The guy’s moans were becoming louder and more pronounced now, and Scope could tell from the way he was tensing in his grip that he was regaining strength.

‘Where are you taking me?’ the guy asked in a spaced-out tone.

Scope ignored the question as he manoeuvred him out through the back door. He’d spotted a coal shed next to the fence a few minutes earlier, and he dragged the guy over to it now, pleased to see that the door locked with an outside bolt.

‘What are you doing?’ asked the guy as Scope released the bolt, and this time his tone was indignant and he began to struggle.

Scope punched him in the gut and, as the guy doubled over, he drove a knee into his face, before flinging him into the darkness of the shed. The man landed on a pile of coal, holding his bloodied nose with both hands, an expression of angry surprise on his face, as if he knew what his rights as a criminal were and couldn’t believe that someone had had the temerity to infringe them.

That was when Scope felt the cold rage grip him. He clambered inside the shed, grabbed the guy round the neck with gloved hands, and began squeezing.

The guy made a desperate choking noise, but Scope squeezed even harder. He wanted to kill this man. For a few dark seconds it was as if nothing else mattered. Once again an image of Mary Ann flashed across his mind. Mary Ann when she was Casey’s age. She’d had the same blonde hair, and had been a cute, beautiful, innocent kid, just like Casey. And Scope had no doubt that this man would have killed Casey to cover his tracks and avoid detection. Maybe even have put his hands round her neck, just like Scope was doing now.

The guy’s eyes were bulging, his face darkening to the colour of wine, and he was grabbing uselessly at Scope’s arms. But he just didn’t have the strength to even begin to break the grip.

And then a voice in Scope’s head told him to stop what he was doing. The man beneath him was a pervert. He might well have killed Casey but, in the end, he had no proof of that. He couldn’t simply murder him. He was better than that.

He released his grip, and the guy slid down the pile of coal, choking and coughing. Livid red marks were already appearing on his neck, but Scope hadn’t finished with him yet. He might not deserve to die, but he didn’t deserve to be treated with much in the way of mercy either.

Scope leaned his face in close to his. ‘I’m going to leave you here until the police turn up. If you make a noise or try to get out – in fact, if you do anything at all, I’m going to come back here and finish throttling the life out of you. Do you understand?’ The guy didn’t immediately respond, so Scope grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look into his eyes. ‘I said: do you understand?’

‘Yes, yes . . . I understand,’ he gasped.

‘And if you say a word to the police about those marks on your neck, or where you got them from, you’re a dead man.’

The guy nodded wildly – he could see Scope meant it – and Scope let him drop onto the coal pile before backing out of the shed and bolting the door behind him.

He knew now he had to call the police, even though it was going to leave him with some pretty inconvenient questions to answer. The thought of being charged for the murder of either of the two men he’d killed today scared him, although less than he’d thought it would. In the end, he’d done the right thing, and if these kids survived because of his actions, it was worth suffering for. He tried not to think about how long he might have to spend behind bars if he was found guilty.

When he got back inside the house, and had found the landline, the first call he made was to his mobile phone, hoping that Jess might answer. But she didn’t. He hoped that wasn’t a bad sign.

Taking a deep breath, he made his second call, dialling 999.

As soon as the operator answered at the other end, Scope told her that there had been a series of shooting incidents in the Tayleigh area and that the police should send out armed response teams as soon as possible. ‘Is this the first call you’ve had about the shooting?’ he asked.

‘Yes it is,’ she answered, sounding sceptical. ‘Can I have your name please, sir?’

But Scope continued talking as if she hadn’t asked the question, telling her that there were multiple victims involved, and at least two perpetrators who were still on the loose. ‘There’s also a young girl of ten who’s with me at a cottage on the Tayleigh Road, about five miles south of the town. She’s shaken and tired, but otherwise unhurt.’