Page 68 of The House Guest

A breath shuddered through me and I clenched my teeth.Keep your dignity. Don’t beg.

‘Face the ditch,’ he said. ‘And stay still.’

I had my back to him. I closed my eyes, grateful he hadn’t instructed me to get on my knees.

‘You religious?’ he said. ‘Got anything you want to say?’

I was finding it hard to hold back the tears now. I was thinking about my family, back in England. My mum and dad. How they would never know what had happened to me. How this would hang over them for the rest of their lives, a terrible mystery.

‘Please,’ I said. ‘Don’t hide my body. My mum ...’ I was too choked to say any more.

‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Can’t do—’

And somewhere nearby, a twig snapped.

‘What the fuck?’ said Krugman.

I turned. He turned too, sweeping the beam of the torch through the trees.

‘Who’s there?’ he yelled.

I saw it at the same time as him. A figure, stepping out from the foliage, like a piece of night breaking off, shadow emerging from shadow.

Krugman aimed, but the shadow moved fast, evading the beam of light. Another twig snapped and the figure jolted to a halt.

Two guns went off at the same time.

Chapter 30

Krugman lay still, just a few feet away from me. I hurried over to see if he was still breathing – he was – at the same time that Callum stepped out from between the trees. It was so dark with the torch lying on the ground that I could barely see his face. But then he said, ‘Sorry to have cut it so fine.’

‘Are you shot too?’ I asked.

‘Me? I’m fine.’ He strode over and joined me, crouching beside Krugman. ‘Still alive. Good.’

Blood bloomed across the front of Krugman’s shirt where the bullet had struck him in the belly. Instinctively, he had laid his fingers across the wound.

‘We need to get him to a hospital,’ I said. ‘Where’s your phone?’ Krugman had taken mine after he pretended to arrest me.

Callum addressed Krugman directly. ‘You want us to do that? Call an ambulance?’

Krugman stared up him. His eyes were glassy. He coughed and droplets of blood appeared on his lips.

‘I could patch you up, call 911.Officer down. They’d probably send a helicopter, am I right? You’d be fine. But first, tell us where they are.’

‘Where’s Ruth?’ I added.

Krugman didn’t speak.

‘Come on, man,’ said Callum. ‘Time’s ticking away. Do you really want to die? Is this really how it ends for you? Shot in the woods by an old guy like me? You got kids? A wife? You ever want those things? Just tell us, where can we find them?’

Krugman coughed again. More drops of blood.

I tugged Callum’s arm. ‘He hasn’t got long. Give me your phone.’

‘Not till he tells us where they are.’

‘Callum ...’

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