“NO, no, no …”

She brought her arms up and struck him again and again, horrified by the strange weakness in her shoulders. Fright had sucked all the strength from her, and he pushed her back onto the carpet, using his weight to pin her there. For an odd, elastic moment, Fiona remembered putting the benches away with her year seven’s: they did it in teams of three, but Fiona could lift one herself, because she was strong, so strong despite her height, everyone said so, everyone said … With another clench of horror and shame, she realized she’d wet herself.

“Get OFF of me!”

She landed a blow finally, pushing the man’s face back and away from her, but he lunged back and bit her, sinking his teeth into the flesh of her hand just as though he was a rabid dog. The stink, that had never really gone away, increased to the point that it seemed to stop her breath in her throat.

“Get off, help, HELP …”

Fiona wriggled backwards frantically, her wrists and her lower back burning fiercely against the carpet weave. If she could just get free of him and down the stairs, there could be someone in the street. Her hand was bleeding and her heart was trying to thump its way out of her chest. He lunged again, and this time she saw that he had a white pad in his gloved hand, which he crushed into her face. A number of smells mingled together, sending spikes of pain into her eyes.

“Listen,” he said, quietly, as though they were talking softly together in a library. He pressed his face close to her ear. “Listen. I’ve come to take you home.”

Later, when both the humans were gone, Byron crept out of the trainer cupboard, belly close to the floor. The house still smelt strongly of the stench that had frightened him in the first place, so he slunk downstairs to the front door, which smelt only of blood.

CHAPTER

10

“ARE YOU SURE you want to go through with this? You can still back out.”

“Yes, I’m sure,” said Heather immediately. If she could get out of bed with this cloud of foreboding hanging over her, if she could get dressed and come here, all the way to this prison and to this anonymous little room without turning around, then she certainly wasn’t going to chicken out now.

DI Ben Parker looked at her gravely, as though trying to spot her doubts. He was about an inch or so taller than her, on the stocky side, with sandy hair and hazel eyes—not her type at all, generally, but there was an untidiness to him that was faintly endearing; the knot in his tie slightly skewwhiff, a sense that he had tried to make his hair do something impressive, then given up because he had other things to think about. “Are there any tips you can give me? Any rules? Should I avoid making eye contact or anything like that?”