One Dark Night

by Tom Bale

Genres: General Fiction; Hard-Boiled; Thrillers; Crime Fiction; Psychological Thrillers; Suspense

Synopsis

Driving home after a day in the countryside with his wife, Katy, and their two kids, doting father Adam Parr gets cut up by a speeding silver car, nearly causing him to crash. Shocked and upset that his kids could have been killed, he pulls over… That’s when he sees a struggling woman in the back seat of the silver car, her eyes pleading for help, and he knows his family are in terrible danger. In the blink of an eye, the Parr’s ordinary lives are plunged into an unimaginable nightmare. With nowhere to run, and the whole family at risk, does Adam have what it takes to lead his loved ones to safety? A gripping and addictive thriller with plenty of twists. If you love Harlan Coben, James Patterson or Robert Dugoni, you’ll be completely hooked. What readers are saying about One Dark Night : ‘ Wow!! This book is incredible. I did not know what to expect from one page to the next. My kindle couldn't turn the pages fast enough. Needless to say, I read this book in one sitting. The "need to know" was greater than the need for sleep. And it was so worth it. This is a book that needs to be on your must read list.’ Sue Blanchard, 5 stars ‘ Abandon everything else because it is impossible to put down! Trust me, I read for 6 hours straight, kidding myself, just one more chapter, until it was suddenly 5am!!!! Tom Bale really does know how to reel you in!!’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars ‘ Grips you from the get-go and you don’t want to let go until the end!!!... Hold onto your hats, you’re in for one hell of a ride. ’ Goodreads Reviewer, 5 stars ‘ An incredible, unable to put down novel! I read this in one day because I just couldn’t stop!… So many twist and turns that I was in shock! The ending was my favourite by far! ’ Buried in a Book, 5 stars ‘ Sit down, buckle up, and get ready for one heck of an adrenaline rush! This book starts off fast and never really lets up. From the opening event to the wrap-up, I was enthralled and couldn’t read fast enough. ’ Fireflies and Free Kicks, 5 stars ‘ A non-stop, all action thriller of a read… nail-biting… The action just kept coming and coming it was really gripping. A fantastic plot and amazing set of characters to keep you hooked from page one and not let go till the last page… It’s a belter of a novel!! ’ Goodreads reviewer ‘ Starts off with a bang and it really sucked me in immediately… had me on the edge of my seat and I read it in the space of a couple of days. If you like fast paced, adrenaline fuelled thrillers then this is definitely the book for you. ’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars ‘Really enjoyed… a gripping thriller that never once loses pace or addictive quality… heart-stopping… a fast paced action thriller… Terrific storytelling. Recommended.’ Liz Loves Books ‘ A non-stop tension fuelled, fast paced story with plenty of action… an atmospheric thriller, full of suspense, twists and surprises! ’ Goodreads reviewer ‘ Highly recommend this must read thriller! I couldn't put it down until I knew how it ended (read as: another late night staying up to finish a book)… I can promise, I will be purchasing more of Tom Bale's thrillers. ’ Goodreads reviewer, 5 stars

Release date: October 23, 2018

Publisher: Bookouture

Print pages: 425

Sample

He heard the car before he saw it: the high whine of an engine being pushed too hard. Glancing to his right, he caught a flash of movement through the trees and just had time to hit the brakes. A silver car burst from a narrow lane and careered across the road, the rear end skidding towards the front wing of their Peugeot 308.

Adam Parr could feel his car sliding a little; with so many wet leaves on the road, the tyres had lost some of their grip. A lot of stones and grit as well, washed out of the surrounding fields by weeks of rain. It was probably a stone that pinged up from the other car’s rear wheel and struck the lights, but when he heard the shatter of glass, Adam’s first thought was that the two vehicles had collided.

Beside him, Katy cried out as she lurched forward, then reflexively turned to check on the kids. Nine-year-old Freya and her younger brother, Dylan, had been engaged in an enthusiastic discussion about dinosaurs and asteroids, breaking off in mid-stream as the car came to a stop.

‘We’re okay, we’re all okay,’ Adam called out. Reassurance was the first priority, but there was also a surge of fury as the silver car, a Mazda 6, regained control and raced away.

That idiot driver could have killed us. Could have killed my kids…

‘I’m not having that,’ he muttered. He checked the mirrors and then accelerated, flashing his headlights at the Mazda.

‘Adam?’ After giving the kids a comforting smile, Katy hissed: ‘Take it easy.’

‘I am.’ But spoken through gritted teeth, so he added a smile to prove it. ‘Completely calm.’

And he flashed his lights again.

The Mazda gave no sign that its driver had noticed – or cared – and that took Adam’s temper up a notch. They were on a narrow country lane that twisted and weaved through several miles of woods and farmland between the A275 and their home village of Lindfield, deep in the Sussex countryside. Traffic was usually sparse along here, though agricultural vehicles were not uncommon. Adam watched the Mazda disappear around a tight bend and half-expected to hear the boom of a head-on collision.

When that didn’t happen he took the bend at the same foolish speed, and felt Katy’s disapproval radiating out like a furnace. He didn’t want to fall out with her, not after the pleasant morning they’d had. And she was right, of course: what was a broken light, in the scheme of things?

And yet…

He kept on flashing his lights, drawing closer as the Mazda struggled a little with the next bend, accelerated briefly and then began to slow.

‘Adam.’

‘He’s damaged our car. He shouldn’t be able to get away with it.’

In the back seat, tiny ears had pricked up. ‘Was there an accident?’ Dylan asked.

‘Not an accident,’ Adam said. ‘It might have been a stone.’

‘Which isn’t really his fault,’ Katy added quietly.

‘Course it is. He’s driving like a nutter, could have ki—’ He remembered not to say it. ‘That won’t be cheap to fix, you know.’

‘All right, but I don’t think we should antagonise…’

She trailed off because the Mazda was braking sharply now. It pulled over, bumping two wheels up on to the narrow, muddy verge. An arm emerged from the driver’s window, waving them past.

‘What does he mean by that?’ Katy asked.

‘Dunno.’ Only now did it occur to Adam that the other driver wouldn’t necessarily know he’d thrown up a stone. He might be assuming that Adam was in a hurry himself, and had been flashing to get past.

As he slowed to a crawl, Adam felt his phone vibrate in his pocket: a distraction he could do without. He shifted to second gear and drove cautiously past the Mazda. The rear windows were heavily tinted, though he had a sense that the back of the car was occupied.

The driver was a young man, thin and pale with short red hair. The passenger seat beside him was empty. Did that mean there were kids in the back? It was shocking to think anyone would drive so recklessly with children in the car.

Adam pulled up just ahead of the Mazda. He looked in the mirror and met the driver’s gaze, which seemed both hostile and slightly fearful. The man’s head bobbed a couple of times – he must be listening to someone – then he turned to speak to whoever was in the back, punctuating the conversation with dramatic hand movements.

‘Why don’t we leave it?’ Katy swiped at his arm as he went to open the door. ‘Adam, please be sensible.’

‘I just want to check what’s broken.’

Maybe nothing, he told himself as he climbed out. He might have misinterpreted the sound, and with a fair collection of stone chips already present on the front of the car, it would be hard to pin any specific damage on the driver of the Mazda.

Freya delayed him a second, speaking from the back seat: ‘Do we have to call the police?’

He smiled. ‘No, darling. We might just need the details of their insurance company.’ Turning to Katy, he said, ‘Couple of minutes and then off home.’

Later, Adam would question whether he had really believed it could be that straightforward – and fool that he was, he’d have to say yes.

After shutting the door, he heard a soft thunk as Katy engaged the central locking. Not a bad precaution, though he couldn’t really see the need for it.

He sensed the Mazda driver was watching, but chose not to look in that direction. Instead, trying to appear casual, Adam walked round to the front of the car. He scowled at the sight of the broken headlight lens, crouched down for a closer look and saw that a couple of the bulbs had been smashed.

Slipping the phone from his back pocket, he read the text that had just come in, deleted it, then opened the camera app and took a picture of the headlight.

As he straightened up he caught Katy’s eye, and nodded grimly to confirm there was damage. His family were all staring at him, his wife tight-lipped and frowning, Freya and Dylan more perplexed than worried. No need to overreact, he reminded himself again.

He heard a noise, and saw the Mazda’s door opening. The driver was tall and gangly, wearing grubby jeans and a denim jacket. He was muttering to someone within the car, his tone aggrieved and slightly petulant, like a teenager obeying under sufferance.

By now Adam was moving in that direction. He was glad of the phone in his hand – there was no better prop when you were feeling apprehensive – but he also had another practical use for it. Just in case things started to get heated.

‘What’s up, then?’ the driver called, striding forward to meet him in the no man’s land between the two cars.

‘Why didn’t you stop at that junction? You nearly wiped us out.’

‘Didn’t see it. Weren’t no lines.’ His voice was nasal, with a northern accent. He was probably in his late twenties, and twitching with nervous energy.

‘When you cut in front of us, the wheels threw up a stone and smashed our headlight.’

The man gaped at him. ‘And that’s why you chased us?’

Adam nodded, determined to hold his ground when the other driver stepped closer. His eyes were wide, shining with a readiness for violence.

Staying calm, Adam said, ‘We can let the insurance companies deal with it, if you give me your details.’

The man tossed his head as if he’d never heard anything so ridiculous, then half-turned, glancing at the Mazda. Adam shifted sideways for a better look and saw three people squashed together on the back seat, two men either side of a woman. She was a lot smaller than them, and her head was lolling slightly, as if half asleep, or intoxicated. One of the men had his arm round her neck, which didn’t look particularly comfortable for him or her.

Adam felt a twinge of unease. It made no sense that the other man wasn’t sitting in the front, to give them more room.

Why don’t we leave it? Katy had said, and he’d known she was right. But he hadn’t listened.

The driver turned back, shifting his stance to block Adam’s view. Despite the cool weather, there was a sheen of sweat on his face. ‘So how much is it gonna cost, then? Fifty quid? A hundred?’

Definitely something dodgy here, Adam thought. He wouldn’t normally consider a cash offer until he had a quote for repairs, but maybe it wasn’t too late to take his wife’s advice. Better to avoid any sort of confrontation in front of his children.

‘I guess a hundred will do it.’

The man gave a nervous gulp. ‘Hundred, right. Wait here.’

He jabbed a finger at the ground, and the message was clear: Don’t move.

Adam obeyed, but with the man’s back turned he angled the phone towards the front of the Mazda. He’d set it to video, so it had recorded their conversation, and now it should be capturing a clear image of the registration number.

While the driver was leaning into the car, Adam checked on his family. Katy was watching in the mirror, and the kids had got up on their knees and were staring at him through the rear screen. He raised a hand, still trying to appear nonchalant, untroubled.

Until the scream.

It came from the Mazda. The woman had hurled herself forward, between the front seats, and was clawing at the steering wheel as the two men fought to restrain her.

‘Help me!’ she shrieked. ‘Please help me!’

Standing by the car, the red-haired driver jumped as if he’d been tasered, then he recovered and chopped at the woman’s arm, allowing her to be dragged back into her seat. One of the men clamped a hand over her mouth, and the other shouted, ‘Dale, get in!’

Responding to the cry, Adam had automatically taken a couple of steps towards the Mazda before reality hit.

He was outnumbered three to one. There was no way he could take them on. But he had the registration number, he could get away, call the police from the car—

‘Please!’ The woman must have bitten the man’s finger; as he swore loudly and snatched his hand away, she threw her arm out in a desperate appeal to Adam. ‘They murdered my husband!’

Everything seemed to freeze. Only for a fraction of a second, but long enough for Adam to look into the eyes of the driver and know it was true.

Every instinct told him to flee, but his conscious mind resisted. What if he ran off and they killed her right now?

No. Getting his family out of danger had to be the first priority. These were clearly ruthless, violent men, and Adam was not.

As he sprang to life he sensed Dale turning, perhaps to come after him, but one of the men shouted, ‘Get in, fuckwit!’

Adam dashed to his own car, pointing at the driver’s door and praying that Katy would unlock it. She had turned towards him, her mouth open in horror. He heard the Mazda’s door slam, and the engine revving. There was also a sound like another door closing, which didn’t make sense, but there wasn’t time to look back.

He skidded to a stop, grabbed the door handle and it yielded. Thank God.

‘Adam, what’s the matter? What are they—?’

‘Can’t explain,’ he gasped, pulling open the door just as he realised the Mazda was hurtling towards him.

The driver was going to crush him against his own car.

Adam threw himself on to the seat, wrenching the door shut in such a panic that he caught his right ankle between the two plates of metal. He roared with pain as the Mazda flashed past.

Katy had cried out in response, perhaps fearing he’d been hit. His ankle felt like it was on fire. He was conscious of Freya and Dylan clutching each other, both distraught, but knew that comforting them would have to wait: first get them to safety.

‘Call 999,’ he said, trying to work out where to go. The best option was probably to turn round and head back to the main road, and then the nearest village.

He put the car into gear, only to register that the Mazda hadn’t actually sped away. It had slewed to a halt across the road, blocking their path.

So turn around…

A second ago he’d dismissed a vague shadow, flitting past in the rear-view mirror. Now he caught movement along the passenger side. Katy, fumbling with the phone in her hand, yelled: ‘Adam!’

Her door was opening.

Adam had the presence of mind to yank the wheel to the right and lurch forward, but the man had anticipated his actions, jumping on to the door sill and grabbing the roof with one hand. In the other hand there was a gun, which he shoved into Katy’s chest.

‘Stop the car or she’s dead!’

Adam hit the brakes. He couldn’t take the risk that the man was only bluffing. Besides, the road was too narrow to turn without several manoeuvres. Time enough to kill them all.

‘Okay,’ he shouted. ‘I’ve stopped.’

Turning from Katy to his children, Adam knew he would never forget the sight of the raw terror in their eyes. The idea that he couldn’t protect them was like having his heart ripped out of his chest.

‘Drop the phone,’ the man ordered.

Katy obeyed, shaking with fear. The man stepped on to the ground, jolting the car’s suspension, and moved back to get a better view of them all. He was about fifty-five, short and paunchy with a bulbous nose and a long, greying thatch of curly hair. He wore cargo pants and a black leather jacket.

The gun was a silver revolver, clutched in a hand with the letters F-U-C-K tattooed on the knuckles. As with the red-haired driver, he had a northern accent; somewhere in Yorkshire, Adam thought.

‘Hands in your laps, both of you. Leave the engine running.’

Adam and Katy complied, and saw now that the third man from the Mazda was running towards them. He was the same sort of age as the driver, mid or late twenties, with light brown hair and soft, pleasant features, but he spoke with a surprising degree of authority. Unlike the other two, his accent was local to the south-east.

‘We’re taking them,’ he said. ‘Two in each car.’

‘Bloody hell, Jay—’

‘Don’t have a choice. You drive this one.’

‘Total balls-up,’ the gunman muttered. He waved his gun at Adam. ‘In the back. Now!’

‘What are you doing?’ Katy cried. ‘This is—’

She broke off as the younger one, Jay, took the other man’s place on the passenger side, reached in and popped her seatbelt. Sensing that Adam was about to lunge at him, he snarled, ‘We’ll hurt your kids. I’m serious.’ The venom in his voice belied his easy-going appearance: Adam knew that he meant it.

After dragging Katy out of her seat, Jay opened the back door and hauled Freya from the car. ‘Not you,’ he told Dylan, who was rigid with shock, tears streaming down his cheeks.

For Adam there was a level of helplessness that he’d only ever experienced in dreams. No matter what he tried – even if he sacrificed his own life – there was nothing he could do to save any of them.

He managed to fumble the door open and virtually fell out, his legs rubbery when he tried to stand. He began to turn, aware of the gunman crowding in on him, reeking of nervous sweat and nicotine, and was suddenly punched in the stomach. ‘Too fooking slow!’

Partially winded, Adam was shoved into the back of the car and told to crouch in the footwell. ‘Get the kid down, too.’

‘But he’s safer where he is,’ Adam protested, indicating Dylan’s car seat.

‘Just do it!’

As Adam unclipped his son, there was a shout from Jay: ‘Gary! Make sure their heads are covered. Use their coats.’

‘You heard him.’ Gary slammed the door and jumped into the driver’s seat.

Dylan’s coat was in the boot, having got muddy during a high-spirited game of chase, so Adam helped him remove his sweater while slipping off his own jacket.

He was half kneeling, propped against the rear seats. Bracing himself and Dylan for movement, he turned and saw his wife and daughter being bundled into the Mazda. One last pleading look from Freya, before Jay piled in after them and the car quickly reversed until it was straight, then roared away…

And immediately had to stop.

There was a tractor coming towards them.

Gary swore, but still accelerated until he was tight on the Mazda’s bumper. Both cars moved on to the narrow verge, scraping the bodywork against a few spindly trees.

The tractor was towing some equipment on a wide trailer, a line of cars trapped behind it. Gary turned in his seat and pointed the gun at Dylan. ‘Don’t even think of playing the hero,’ he told Adam. ‘You stay out of sight, or I’ll put a bullet in the kid.’

Dylan gave a whimper of fear. Adam grasped his hand and hunched over, drawing his son as close as possible. He felt completely destabilised. How could this be happening, on a quiet country road in Sussex?

A couple of minutes earlier and the presence of these cars might have saved them. Instead, the tractor had held up the normal flow of traffic, and in doing so it had quite possibly saved those other motorists from becoming involved. A matter of seconds, that was all it came down to.

Adam could feel the tension in Gary, the willingness to shoot if anything went wrong. Perched up high, there was every chance that the tractor driver might look into the vehicles as he passed. If he did, would he notice the prisoners cooped up in the back?

Even if he spotted them, he probably wouldn’t understand the significance – not unless he also saw the gun.

It was hopeless. But then, as the tractor rumbled alongside, Adam realised it could provide him with a vital diversion. While running to the car, he’d shoved his phone into his back pocket. In such a confined space it wasn’t going to be easy to retrieve it without Gary sensing the movement. But it had to be worth a try.

The tractor loomed in his peripheral vision. Peering from beneath his jacket, Adam saw that the driver was an elderly man, white hair sprouting from a flat cap and a Paisley scarf tight around his neck. He was staring straight ahead, presumably confident in his ability to get past, and didn’t spare them a glance.

Adam contorted himself, arching his back to a painful degree in order to twist one hand towards his pocket. Dylan was curled up under his sweater, but kept sneaking a look at his father, desperate for reassurance that Adam could barely begin to provide.

We can describe these men. There’s no way they’re going to release us now.

His fingers brushed against the stitching along the edge of the pocket, then found the top corner of his phone.

The driver’s seat creaked. ‘Keep low,’ Gary ordered.

The tailback of cars was passing now, one of them a lot more timid than the tractor. ‘You got loads of chuffing room,’ Gary muttered, and the Peugeot shifted as he found the biting point, ready to move.

Dylan looked up, and when he opened his mouth to speak Adam gave an urgent shake of the head: not now. He pulled the phone halfway out and had to pause, aware that his elbow was pressed against the back of the driver’s seat.

‘What?’ Gary asked, sounding annoyed. Did he think Adam had said something?

And again: ‘I’m not a chuffing mind reader. What?’

It must be someone in the Mazda, signalling to Gary, but he couldn’t decipher the message.

As the car bumped back on to the road, Adam eased the phone out and nestled it in his palm. Call 999 or text some kind of emergency message? A call was more immediate, but Gary would quickly stop the car and overpower him.

It had to be a text. Adam was trying to come up with a brief, urgent message when Gary murmured, ‘You want me to ring…?’ He sounded like a bewildered contestant in a game of charades. Then, as comprehension dawned: ‘Ah, shit. Phones.’

The car veered to the right as he leaned over, pawing at something in the front footwell: Katy’s phone, which she’d been told to drop. It must be lying there, next to her bag.

Adam had unlocked his screen and was shielding the light with his hand when he felt Gary look round again.

‘You got a phone?’

‘Not with me.’ Adam sounded too weak, too desperate to be credible.

‘Don’t piss me about.’

‘I mean it—’

‘You wanna play games?’ Gary roared. ‘Here’s a fooking game for you.’

Seemingly without looking, he shoved the revolver through the gap between the front seats and pulled the trigger.

The boom of the shot was horrifically loud: both Adam and Dylan cried out and clapped their hands over their ears. The acrid chemical odour of the gun’s propellant filled the car.

‘Give me the phone, now!’

The words came through muddy and distorted. Adam knew he had to obey. As he rose, he saw Dylan’s eyes roll up in his head; then, with a shudder, the boy collapsed.

‘You shot him!’ With a howl of pure grief, Adam dropped his phone and gathered Dylan into his arms. He was white as a ghost, but after a few seconds he stirred, moaning weakly.

‘Didn’t touch him,’ Gary sneered. ‘Bullet went through the back seat.’

Half crazed with fear, Adam carried on searching for signs of a wound. If he’s hurt, I’ll kill Gary. I’ll kill them all…

But there was no blood, no obvious injury. Adam held his son close and felt him coming round. Even as he rejoiced that Dylan was unhurt, the sight of a neat little hole in the middle seat rammed home the truth. The danger was brutally real, and he’d just missed his one good chance to raise the alarm.

With an air of defeat, Adam tossed his phone on to the passenger seat and then slumped back in the footwell, Dylan lying dazed in his arms. He tried to tell himself to stay hopeful, but it was a struggle to believe that they would come out of this alive.

It had been a gloriously normal morning. That was what Katy Parr couldn’t get out of her mind. Gloriously, ridiculously normal.

A couple of years ago, at her suggestion, they’d joined the National Trust. She felt the children had reached an age where they could start to appreciate art, architecture, the beauty of nature, and Freya in particular was hungry to learn about history. Okay, there was some truth to Adam’s jokes about how insufferably middle class it made them feel – not to mention prematurely middle-aged – but Katy didn’t mind that. In her view, as the years passed and the children grew up, it would be important to have activities that still drew them all together as a family.

If they stayed together as a family, that was. Katy knew such things should never be taken for granted.

There were several National Trust properties within a short drive of their home in Lindfield, and the magnificent gardens of Sheffield Park were practically on their doorstep. This morning they’d enjoyed a slow walk around the lakes and along the tree-lined paths. After overnight rain the cloud had stayed low and oppressive, but even in the soft grey light the late autumn leaves were a riot of reds and golds.

Freya had carefully gathered a colourful bouquet of fallen leaves, while Dylan crept through the spooky groves of rhododendron trees, pretending to be a vampire. They’d visited the café, braving the long queue for coffee and cake; and if there was a single sour note to the morning it might have been the sudden appearance at their table of a wizened old lady, dressed as a fairy tale witch and proclaiming that in less than thirty minutes their lives would be hanging by a thread.

‘Preposterous! We’re only five or six miles from home, it’s a journey on quiet country lanes, and this part of the world is as safe as anyone could wish for…’

There hadn’t been a witch, of course. But this was the sort of scathing response Katy would have given to such a warning.

Even now, she was struggling to process the magnitude of the threat they were facing. Her ability to analyse, to be rational and calm, was repeatedly blocked by the monotone voice of denial. This can’t be real. It isn’t happening.

But it was.

Katy had been anxious from the moment the car burst into view. Watching the other driver, his jerky, hyperactive movements, had unnerved her all the more, and when she saw Adam’s body language change – the way he’d turned and sprinted back to their car – a spark of rage had burned through the fear.

You had to be a man, getting worked up about something so trivial.

She and Freya had been thrown into the back of the Mazda and told to kneel on the floor. Katy had no idea what they were caught up in, though she had registered the presence of a woman on the back seat. She was probably in her forties, dark-haired and petite, her face deathly pale, her eyes unfocused.

Within a couple of seconds Freya had made a choking sound; the air in the car was a combination of sweat and tobacco and the foul stench of urine.

The driver gave an angry snort. ‘Stinks, doesn’t it? Carole there pissed herself.’

The woman barely reacted, but Katy could see it was true. Her dress and the leggings beneath them were dark with the stain.

The Mazda reversed, lurched forward and then jolted to a halt. Curses from the driver as Katy heard the heavy chugging sound of a tractor.

‘Get right down,’ Jay said, grabbing Freya’s coat and hauling the collar up over her head.

‘There isn’t enough room,’ Katy argued. ‘Leave her alone.’

‘Quiet.’ He pulled off his own sweatshirt and draped it over Katy, who recoiled at the feel of it, the fibres warm and damp from his body heat and nervous sweat.

The car shuddered on to the verge and there was a roar from the tractor as it rumbled past, followed by what sounded like other traffic. Katy couldn’t help but picture the lucky motorists, innocently driving along without a clue that these animals sat just a few feet away.

‘Let’s get going,’ Jay said. Then he seemed to spasm. He squeezed Katy’s shoulder. ‘What happened to your phone?’

‘I dropped it, like you told me.’

‘And your husband’s got one?’

It was so tempting to lie, but he wasn’t likely to believe her. ‘Yes.’

‘What about the kids?’

‘No. They’re too young.’

‘Course they are.’ With a mocking laugh, he turned in his seat and gestured to the driver behind.

While he was distracted, Freya clawed at her arm and hissed, ‘Is Dylan going to be all right?’

‘I’m sure he will. Daddy’s with him.’

‘He’ll be really scared, though. He’s only seven.’

It nearly broke Katy’s heart to hear such solemn, mature concern, as if Freya’s two extra years meant she should be expected to take this in her stride.

‘I know.’ She gave a sad smile, desperate to add some words of encouragement and hope, but knew that nothing she said would ring true.

On the back seat, Jay was still gesticulating at the driver behind them. ‘It isn’t difficult, Gary. I’m saying phones.’ Then a sigh. ‘Thank Christ for that. Moron.’

Katy ducked as he turned back. His foot caught her painfully on the shoulder but she tried not to make any sound. Sneering, Jay draped the sweatshirt back over her head as if disgusted by the sight of her.

Because we’re nothing to them. She reached for her daughter’s hand and held it tightly. There was a sudden muffled crack, which seemed to come from directly behind them. Carole groaned and threw herself sideways. The Mazda swerved as the driver jerked in his seat, then yelled, ‘Shitting hell, what’s he done?’

Jay had also flinched, and was now turning again. Katy could sense the confusion in him, the barely suppressed panic. ‘Fuck knows.’

‘You think Gaz shot one of ’em?’ the driver asked.

At that, Freya’s whole body convulsed. Katy shifted as close as she could, and whispered, ‘It’s all right. Stay calm, Freya, please.’

After a few seconds she took the risk of peeking out. Jay was kneeling on the seat, signalling to the driver behind.

‘Thumbs up,’ he reported. ‘All okay.’

Okay for you, Katy thought. But what about Adam? What about her son?

‘This is seriously screwed,’ the driver said. Unlike Jay, he had a northern accent, and a whiny tone. ‘A total balls-up.’

‘Well, it’s done now,’ Jay muttered. ‘We’ve just gotta deal with it.’

A brooding silence fell. The driver was throwing the Mazda around and Katy felt nauseous. Where were they going, and what would happen when they got there? She was both desperate to know, and simultaneously couldn’t bear to contemplate it.

She had a sudden recollection of news stories, where the survivors of a terrorist attack or some terrible natural disaster talked of the moment they’d made a deal with God: Just let me get through this and I’ll never ask for anything again. Was that what she should be doing now, for all four of them?

It seemed unrealistic. Asking too much. But the idea of losing the kids was unbearable, and they worshipped their dad.

It’s me, then. That was the deal Katy made. I’ll accept my fate, if it means the others can come out of this alive.

She wondered if the same thoughts were running through Adam’s mind. Probably. It was hard not to resent the way he’d reacted earlier, particularly as things were strained between them at the moment, but she had never doubted his love for his children. He’d die for them – just as she would – without a moment’s hesitation.

All couples went through periods of restlessness, a creeping dissatisfaction and a longing to explore whether the grass was truly greener on the other side. Some marriages survived those periods, and some didn’t. The secret, in Katy’s view, was patience and effort, and she had blithely assumed that there would always be time and opportunities to fix anything that had gone wrong.

How foolish that seemed now.

At first Adam hoped to track the route they were taking. Although he’d been told to cover his face, he was lying in such a way that Ga