Page 15 of Savage Justice

“No, I’ve got this.” I lean in again and almost miss the faint quiver of response. Her chest moves, just a little, but enough. “She’s back.”

“Well done, bro.” Aaron slaps me on the back. “That was close.”

We watch, and her breathing slowly strengthens. Her pallor brightens, colour returns to her features. Her lips had been blue, but they fade to a healthier pink again as the circulation is restored.

“I’ve asked Megan to fly over. She’ll be at the mansion within the hour. Let’s get her back there.” Ethan is standing over us. “I’ve got a team on their way here to clean up and make the place secure.”

I nod my agreement. Lucy’s mum needs medical attention, but a regular hospital is out of the question. We don’t need the hassle of explaining the gunshot wound, or the waterboarding or our involvement generally. The Richmond Clinic don’t ask questions, but that’s too far away, so our in-house doctor is the best alternative. Megan is based on Caraksay, but it’s a shortish hop by helicopter. By the time we get back to Caernbro Ghyll, she’ll be more or less here.

The woman is breathing fairly well but showing no sign of regaining consciousness. That might be a blessing. Whilst I was occupied giving her the kiss of life, Aaron has sliced through the cable ties which bound her wrists and ankles. I wince at the vicious, blood-stained weals left by the sharp plastic.

She’s petite, and I have no difficulty lifting her even though she’s a dead weight. By the time we emerge into the chilly night air our other vehicles have departed. It’s just me, Ethan, and Aaron, and the woman whose name we don’t even know.

“I’ll drive,” Ethan announces.

I lift her onto the rear seat, then slide in next to her. “Right. Let’s go.”

The journey back is taken at a somewhat more sedate pace, and our passenger is starting to stir by the time we crunch up the gravel drive and come to a halt in front of the entrance. She opens her eyes when I ease her back into my arms to exit the car.

“Who…?” she murmurs.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now.” I carry her up the steps, then into the entry hallway.

Lucy comes barrelling out of the drawing room, Ruth at her heels.

“Mummy! Mummy…” She’s crying pitifully, the terrifying events of this night obviously catching up with her.

It’s not lost on any of us that she’s a child of just ten who was so traumatised by whatever was going on at home that she ran three miles in the middle of the night, to a stranger’s house, seeking help.

“Wake up, Mummy. Wake up. Please, wake up. What happened to her?”

The woman in my arms reaches for her little girl. I let her feet drop to the floor but keep my arms around her, holding her upright so she can give Lucy a hug.

“She refused to go to bed until you got back,” Ruth explains. “The little boy is upstairs. It’s lucky Jenna and Tony bought a cot already. I borrowed it and put it in a guest room. I thought they might be best if they’re all together.”

“Yes. Good thinking,” Ethan agrees. “Let Megan have look at her when she arrives but leave everything else until the morning. Tell Megan to patch up the guy downstairs, too, at least enough to keep him alive until we have a chance to talk to him.”

“Sounds like a plan. Shall we get your mummy somewhere more comfortable, Lucy?”

Despite tonight’s traumas, she’s a sensible kid and sees the wisdom in what’s been suggested. Lucy disengages herself enough for me to lift her mother into my arms again and head for the main stairs. Ruth leads the way.

The woman is fast regaining her senses, and naturally enough has questions. “Who are you? What is this place? That man… is he…?” She shudders. “He tried to kill me.”

“We saw. But you’re safe now. Lucy came and fetched help. You’ve no need to worry about him.”

“The police. We need to…”

“We’ll deal with all of that. You just need to get some rest, recover. This is your room. See, the baby is here already.”

The sight of the sleeping infant has a calming effect. As soon as I set her down, she totters over to the cot, grabs the side and clings to it, gazing down at the child within.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “Thank you, thank you…”

“I’ll help her into bed and keep an eye on her from here if you want to get some sleep,” Ruth offers.

I’m about to refuse but bite my tongue. I suspect Ruth’s gentle, patient presence is more what’s needed right now. “Thanks,” I mutter, though it feels wrong, somehow, to relinquish either of them into the care of another.

I do it, though. I leave them in one of the guest bedrooms and make my way down to the kitchen where the rest of the men are assembled.

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