‘Tell it to the cops,’ said Scope. ‘I’m not interested.’

‘No way. I’m not going back inside. I spent too long there.’ With a huge effort, he sat up, using one hand for support.

Scope had already killed twice in cold blood tonight. He didn’t want to have to do it a third time. Instead, he kicked the gunman in the face, knocking him onto his back, his head hitting the flagstones as he cried out in pain, closing his eyes.

Scope patted him down to confirm he didn’t have any more weapons, then left him there, confident that he was no longer any threat, and walked over to the farmhouse door. It was time to call the police and give them the latest on what had happened. The thought worried him. If the scar-faced gunman was right, and Amanda Rowan was a killer, then Jess was still in danger, which meant that he needed to get the police to intercept them. He could hear faint sirens in the distance, above the sound of the wind. Christ, what a night it had been. And yet, if he’d had his time again, he wouldn’t have done anything differently, even if it did mean he’d soon be under arrest and on his way to a police station.

Whether he came out of it again a free man was anyone’s guess.

He stopped by the body of the big guy and looked down at him. He had a round, pudgy baby face and he looked young, definitely under thirty. What a waste of a life, he thought, even if he had brought it on himself.

He bent down to pick up his discarded gun and stopped, frowning.

Because it wasn’t there.

Fifty

‘ARE YOU OKAY?’ asked Amanda over the noise of the Land Rover’s engine.

Jess nodded weakly in the passenger seat. ‘I think so.’ She didn’t want to look at her leg but she forced herself to. She knew a bit about entry and exit wounds from watching too many seasons of CSI, and she could see that the bigger hole where the bullet had exited her leg was only a couple of inches from where it had gone in. ‘I’m not sure how much damage the bullet did,’ she said, ‘but it’s bleeding a fair bit.’

‘We’ll get you help soon.’

‘Who was that guy? The one who helped us?’

‘I don’t know. He’s the one who got involved earlier, isn’t he?’

‘Yeah. That was him.’ Jess took a deep breath. ‘God, I can’t believe I almost got killed back there.’ She began shaking in the seat. She’d been hit by a car once while walking home from secondary school. It had been her own fault. She’d been texting someone and had walked right out in front of it. Luckily, it had only struck her a glancing blow and, having convinced the driver she was okay, she’d limped home, only to go into complete shock as she’d put the key in the lock, almost fainting on the doorstep. She had that exact same feeling again now, and it made it difficult to think of anything else. And yet something was bothering her.

‘We’ll be in Tayleigh soon,’ said Amanda. ‘Then we can get you to a hospital.’

‘What did they mean back there about you killing your husband? I thought it was The Disciple.’

‘Of course it was The Disciple,’ said Amanda, giving Jess a smile that looked way too condescending.

‘So why have so many people been chasing you then?’

The smile disappeared. ‘I told you. I’m just a normal woman trying to get over the death of my husband, who wants to be left alone. That’s all.’

As they drove through the darkness, Jess stared at her, thinking. ‘It’s just I can’t understand why they’d say all that stuff unless they were really sure of it.’

Amanda sighed. ‘Look, it doesn’t make any difference. They were still wrong.’

They fell silent for a few moments and Jess decided to let it go. All she wanted now was to be reunited with Casey, and put this whole nightmarish episode behind her.

Amanda took a deep breath, then another, before slowing the car.

‘Are you all right?’

‘I think I’m going to be sick.’ She pulled up at the side of the road, got out and staggered round the front of the car before bending over in front of a gorse bush, her hands on her knees.

Jess turned away, feeling nauseous herself. It was still almost impossible to come to terms with everything that had happened today. Her step-aunt and step-uncle were dead. So were many other people. Casey was still missing. And the whole thing centred round one person.

Amanda.

The door flew open fast and, before Jess could defend herself, she felt strong hands clamped round her neck, squeezing hard. She tried to struggle but it was as if all the strength in her body was sapping rapidly away and, as she was pushed back into the seat, her vision already blurring, she found herself staring into Amanda’s eyes. But they were different now. The expression in them was cold and determined.

Jess tried to struggle. She grabbed at Amanda’s arms, tried to get a grip on them, but they didn’t seem to move, and she was choking now, unable to breathe, feeling as if her lungs were going to burst.

Her last thought was that this was such an unfair way to die, after all she’d been through, at the hands of a woman she’d grown to trust, and then her eyes closed and she lost consciousness.

Fifty-one

SCOPE STOOD AT the open front door to the farmhouse, keeping out of sight of anyone who might be inside, listening hard. He could hear a barely audible moaning coming from one corner of the front room, but nothing else.

He remembered there being two gunmen in the forest earlier, just after he’d killed the one who’d shot at Casey, and he’d now killed them both. But someone had taken the big guy’s gun. There was no doubt about that. Scope had checked all round his body and there was no sign of it. But if there was a third gunman inside, then why hadn’t he taken a shot at Scope when he’d had his back to him?

But the gun was gone. So someone had taken it.

He looked back towards the other gunman, but he was still flat out on his back on the concrete.

Slowly, he crept round the front of the farmhouse and looked through the side window. The room appeared empty but he could just make out a pair of stout legs in a floral dress poking out in front of the sofa. The rest of the woman’s body was obscured by the sofa, but it was obvious she was the one whose moans he could hear. He continued further round until he was staring into the kitchen and the hallway beyond. But again it was empty.

Knowing he couldn’t leave an injured woman on her own, Scope crept back round and very slowly pushed open the front door with the barrel of the gun, standing off to one side, just in case there was someone there planning to ambush him. Then, when the door was fully open, he took a cautious step inside, keeping his finger tight on the gun’s trigger.

He now had a view all the way down the hallway to the end of the house. Confident that there was no one hiding there, he looked round, his gaze falling on the old lady lying on her back. She was a big woman of about seventy with her grey hair tied back in a large bun, and Scope was sickened when he saw that her face was a mass of bruises. Her nose was dripping blood down one cheek and it looked as if it was broken.

‘Jesus,’ he said under his breath, lowering the gun and crouching down next to her. ‘It’s going to be okay,’ he told her, lifting her arm and establishing that she still had a strong pulse. ‘I’m going to call an ambulance.’ He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

Her eyes flickered open and she looked up at him, managing a weak smile.

‘There’s another one in here,’ she said quietly, her voice a hoarse whisper, the accent local. ‘He’s out the back, and he’s got a gun.’

Scope nodded and stood up, taking a step towards the door, the gun raised again now.