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Back Cross and Burn Save as PDF
Chapters (74)
  1. About the Author
  2. Also by Val McDermid
  3. COPYRIGHT
  4. CROSS AND BURN
  5. Dedication
  6. Acknowledgements
  7. Epigraph
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  44. 37
  45. 38
  46. 39
  47. 40
  48. 41
  49. 42
  50. 43
  51. 44
  52. 45
  53. 46
  54. 47
  55. 48
  56. 49
  57. 50
  58. 51
  59. 52
  60. 53
  61. 54
  62. 55
  63. 56
  64. 57
  65. 58
  66. 59
  67. 60
  68. 61
  69. 62
  70. 63
  71. 64
  72. 65
  73. 66
  74. 67

When the light came it was a physical shock. Without warning, the lid of the freezer suddenly lifted and a blaze of brilliant white light stunned her optic nerve. All she had time for was to cross her forearms across her face in a timeless gesture of self-defence and supplication before excruciating pain shot through her body and reduced her muscles to jelly. Completely disorientated, Bev felt herself lifted through the air then dumped face down on the floor. As her senses gradually returned, she was aware of rough cement against her skin. There was some kind of cold cuff round her left ankle and she felt her hands being secured behind her. She opened her mouth to scream but before she could make a sound, a terrible blow to the ribs knocked the air out of her. Strong hands turned her on her back and punched her in the side of the head. Colours flashed behind her eyes and thick pain throbbed through her head. ‘Shut the fuck up, bitch,’ a man’s voice said. It was all the more terrifying for being matter-of-fact.

And then there was some kind of wide sticky tape smacked into place across her mouth. Bev had no choice but to shut up. She looked up at the man who was doing this to her. Blue overalls, scuffed black work boots. Quite tall, brown hair, blue eyes, bulbous nose, long straight mouth, square chin. Her first thought was to memorise these unremarkable features. But in a split second her determination gave way to dismay. She’d watched enough crime series on TV to know that if they let you see their face, it was because they were planning to kill you. A wordless moan came from behind her gag and this time he slapped her hard. ‘If you did what you were told, I wouldn’t have to hit you, would I?’ His tone was reasonable, as if he were explaining to a child why they shouldn’t stick their hand in the fire.

He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her into a sitting position. Then he gripped her upper arms and yanked her to her feet. She heard a metallic rattle as she struggled upright and looked down. A shiny metal cuff was secured to her ankle with a heavy padlock. A sturdy-looking chain trailed backwards from the padlock. He forced her forward and the chain came too, a heavy drag on her ankle.