Over to my left, from the kitchen, I heard a faint noise, muffled almost to the point of silence. I turned slowly, as if that would help me get a better directional fix, but there was no repeat. I moved across towards the kitchen, holding the Glock out in front of me, doublehanded. It wasn’t quite so dark there, thanks to the windows that lined that side of the house. I could see the lights from the ski run a little way off through the trees.
I came round the corner of the first kitchen cabinet fast, leading with the gun, and found myself taking aim at a small figure huddled down in front of the oven.
Ella’s eyes were huge in the half-light and awash with tears. She had her knees bent up and clutched to her chest, as if by making herself smaller she might succeed in disappearing altogether.
“Ella,” I whispered, lowering the muzzle of the Glock so it was pointing away from her. “It’s OK, sweetheart. It’s me — Charlie.” The words seemed to have no effect. I tried: “Where’s your mummy?” but that didn’t seem to work, either.
I eased closer and crouched next to her, putting a hand out to stroke her head. She flinched at my touch. She was trembling all over and, when I inhaled, I realized that she’d had a bit of an accident as well. Shame she was too old to still be in nappies. Still, I suppose I couldn’t blame her, poor kid. God alone knew what she’d seen here.
“It’s OK, Ella,” I said quietly, trying to be soothing but aware that I only succeeded in coming out with a horribly fake brittle tone. “I need you to stay here and keep very quiet-like you were doing. Can you do that for me?” No response. “I’ll be back very soon. I promise.”
But as I started to rise, it must have penetrated that I, too, was going to abandon her. She pounced for my leg, fastening her little arms round my calf and holding on for grim death.
“Sweetheart, I’ve got to find your mummy,” I said, trying to prise her hands loose. Damn, she had a grip a pit bull would give its canines for.
“Don’t leave me alone,” she wailed, her voice like a siren. “I want to come, too. I want my mummy.”
I shushed her, alarmed, and found myself saying, “OK, OK, you can come. But you have to be very, very quiet.”
She nodded furiously, unlocked her stranglehold on my leg and held her arms up to me. I stared at her for a moment, her eyes and nose streaming delightfully and a distinct sogginess around her bottom.
“Oh, you have to be kidding,” I muttered.
Her lower lip had firmed, but as I hesitated it started to wobble and I could almost see her gather in her breath for a burst of raucous weeping. Before she could get into her stride I swept her up onto my left hip. She grabbed hold of my jacket collar in both hands and dug her bony knees into my ribs. I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile that was blankly met, then tried to ignore her.
Not easy to carry out a full search with a small damp child clamped to the side of you, but I did my best. First we went up, checking the bedrooms on the upper floor. I made sure I spun Ella round as we went upstairs so that as I stepped over Jakes’s body she didn’t get a clear look at him. The window on the landing had been reglazed, but the brass-stemmed lamp Lucas had used to threaten Aquarium man with was lying on its side on the floor, with the shade torn, and the rug was half turned back.
A struggle, I wondered, then a fall? Was that what had happened to Jakes? Coming down the stairs was worse. There was nothing much I could do to block Ella’s view of him lying in the hallway.
“Is he sleeping?” she whispered in my ear, and I heard the hopeful note in her voice.
“Yes, Ella,” I lied. “He’s sleeping.”
There was something unholy about the thick darkness as I felt my way down the stairs to the basement. The door at the bottom was shut and I opened it very carefully, only to find the lights were on down here. I shoved the door wide and went through it fast, ducking to the side, moving like an ape cradling my young with Ella attached to my side. To my right were the storerooms where I’d suspected that Lucas kept his guns. It did my nerves no good at all to see one of the doors standing open.
To my left was the door to the home cinema room. At first I couldn’t tell if it was occupied or not, but as I edged closer I heard the sharp staccato sound of voices inside.
Simone’s voice, in particular.
My first reaction was relief that she was alive. But crowding in on top of that came the realization that Simone was screaming at someone, the sound disguised by the soundproofing of the room. I glanced at Ella. She’d stiffened in my arms at the sound of her mother’s voice, still at an age where she picked up more by tone and vibration than by the words themselves. I wished that I didn’t have to take her in there with me, but I knew she wouldn’t let me leave her out here any more than she would have let me leave her upstairs.
Ah well, this is what they pay you for.. .
I turned the handle and pushed open the door.
Inside, the occupants of the room swung to face me. Simone, Rosalind and Lucas. Simone was holding a SIG 9mm that looked very like the one I’d fired on the range at Lucas’s store. Tears streaked her face and her eyes were wild.
For a split second, time slowed. I took in the scene like a freeze-frame in a movie, seeing everything and nothing in the blink of an eye.
The room was laid out with a blank wall for the home cinema screen at the far end, flanked by two tall loudspeakers. A projector was suspended from the ceiling and four huge recliner chairs, two at each side, faced the screen. Other than that, there was no furniture.
Lucas was standing to my left, near the chairs. He still had the dressing on his forehead from his tussle with Aquarium man, and was now leaking from a new wound somewhere high up in his hairline, but he didn’t seem to notice the blood sliding down his temple and cheek. His back was very straight like he was awaiting execution. Next to him, his wife was slumped in her seat, her normally tidy hairstyle awry She was staring at a spot on the far wall, away from Simone, and I would have thought she was in shock until she suddenly focused on my arrival.
Simone herself was bent forwards as though she was in pain, and shaking so hard she could hardly hold the gun. She gripped it in both hands, holding it away from her body like she was afraid of it, of what it might do, her hands much too tense. Perhaps that was why, as I entered and she turned, automatically bringing the gun round towards me, her finger tightened on the trigger.
The SIG discharged, twice in quick succession, almost slam-firing as the recoil took Simone by surprise and caused her to loose off a second shot.
The first round hit the wall high to my left, splintering chips of blockwork. The second went into the ceiling.
The noise of the gun discharging was enormous. Ella gave a single high-pitched squeal of terror, right in my ear, deafening me almost as much as the shot had done. I dived sideways and down, twisting my head away, rolling so I landed on my back, cradling the child.
As I went I could have sworn I heard Simone yell, “You bastard. You bastard!” but I had no idea at whom the words were aimed. If her shooting was anything to go by, it could have been anyone.
“Simone,” I shouted. “For God’s sake put the gun down before you kill somebody!”
“It’s too late,” she yelled back, the edge of hysteria in her voice. “It’s all too late now.” She gulped, her breath catching in her throat as though a sorrow too great to bear had suddenly overwhelmed her.