Page 92 of Touch in the Night

“The little girl is with her legal guardian,” Jesse snapped. “And these people will be scaring her shitless.”

“I know that,” Filip said, scowling at the gate. “But bloody English police don’t believe it.”

“They’ll believe they can’t let this get any worse,” Jesse said, pushing Filip back toward the house. “Go. Tell Greenway. And check Dimity’s safe in her room, will you?”

He expected the older man to argue but his face shifted. Something like approval smoothed its hard lines. “I will do that, sir,” he said, then rushed away.

“Sir,” one guard said as Jesse set his foot on the bottom rung. “You really shouldn’t go up there.”

“We need that camera working,” Jesse insisted.

The guards exchanged doubtful glances, but Jesse was already climbing. He reached the camera and was gratified to see it was only the casing that was damaged. He detached it from its mounting, being careful to stay out of sight, opened the casing and realigned the damaged wiring. The red transmission light flickered back on. He glanced up at the mounting, braced himself, climbed another rung and peered over the wall.

There were three of them. They were big men bundled in thick coats, smoking, cursing and throwing rocks and frozen sheep dung. One had a square jaw and close-cut corn-blond hair. Jesse started, recognizing Tyler from the Evil Eye.

His heart pounded as he attempted to refasten the camera, but Tyler spotted him.

“Hey, fucker,” he shouted and launched a stone.

Jesse swore and ducked. The stone sailed over his head.

“Show your face, you twat,” he cried again, and there was a crash as a stone struck the wall. “Protecting a child rapist. Stringing up’s too good for you.” Another crash and the camera wobbled.

“Jesus, Tyler,” Jesse shouted. “I see you’re as good a shot as you are a fuck.”

Silence fell for a breathless moment, then the projectiles started again, and the curses grew fouler.

Jesse scrambled down. He was on the bottom rung when a stone struck his head.

He was aware of pain, flashing lights and hitting the ground, hard. The shouts of the guards muddied in his ears, and it felt like his guts were trying to crawl out of his mouth. The next thing he knew he was on his feet with a strong arm around him and Filip was at his side, urging him on. Jesse wrenched himself free, bent and vomited into a rose bush.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” Filip said. Through his blurred vision, Jesse could just make out that his grave face was lined with concern.

Jesse shook his head then swore as pain swirled through his skull. “They’ll…” He swallowed rising sickness and drew a deep breath. “The coppers’ll have me the second I step outside the gate.”

“Greenway’ll drive you,” he said, taking Jesse’s elbow and drawing him back toward the house. “They couldn’t stop her if they tried.”

Jesse blinked through the pounding red waves as someone pressed a bag of ice against his head. Tom’s face was there, pale with concern. Then there was a car. Shouts. Bangs on the doors, windows and windshield. Jesse vomited into a bag someone had thoughtfully provided. The engine roared then, thank God, blessed silence.

By the time Greenway was braking outside A & E at York Hospital, the pounding had lessened to a point where he could at least see straight.

“You okay on your own?” Greenway said as she helped him to a seat in the waiting area.

“Get back,” Jesse said, waving her away. “They need you.”

“Call if you need anything,” she replied, and Jesse was surprised to see her face tight with anxiety for the first time since he’d met her. Then she was gone.

He squinted at his phone screen as he scrolled news sites for any more updates. The story was headline news on every UK and some international sites, though there were still no names, interviews or statements from the police. But the lack of hard facts wasn’t stopping the story’s momentum.

Anger tangled with fear fisted around his heart.

His phone buzzed in his hand. Still dizzy, he answered it before his brain had caught up with his hand. He recognized his brother’s irate voice and closed his eyes, unable to make sense of the words. Finally, Anton wound himself to a stop.

“Jesse? Are you there? Answer me.”

“I’ve got a headache, bro,” he croaked.

“You’ve got aheadache?” he snapped. “That’ll be the least of your problems when I’m through with you.”

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