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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

Then he unchained her and dragged her upstairs. He fastened her to another metal eye in a room furnished with nothing but a bed covered with a rubber sheet. He punched her hard in the face and forced her on to the bed, tying her by her wrists and ankles so she was spread-eagled across it. He’d left her alone briefly, then returned with a can of shaving foam, a pair of scissors and a plastic razor. ‘If you move, I’ll cut you to ribbons,’ he said, as matter of fact as if he’d been asking for sugar in his tea. Then his hands had been on her, snipping away at her pubic hair, carefully trimming it to the skin. Her flesh crawled at his touch, but she bit her lip and forced herself not to flinch. Next came the shaving foam, then the rasp of the razor against her most tender skin. Bev had never shaved herself; being blonde, she hadn’t even needed a bikini wax for sunshine holidays. The feeling of air against her bare skin was strange. But at least he was careful and he didn’t hurt her. She wondered why, when his sole aim till then had been to punish her.

The respite didn’t last long. This time, he made her beg. Hating herself, she did as she was told, though not convincingly enough to avoid another beating. When he’d finally reached the point where he couldn’t raise an erection, that had been her fault too. Bev refused to remember what had come next. Some things didn’t bear thinking about. She thought she’d passed out in the end.

Now she was back in her box. Her kennel, he’d called it. As if she was an animal. Bev had seen plenty of anger in her life. But she’d never come across such a sustained level of aggression directed at a stranger. Not even rape victims. From what she’d seen in the hospitals where she’d worked, women were only beaten this badly, this systematically, by their partners. This was domestic violence gone rogue.

And she was caught at the heart of it.

Tears seeped from her swollen eyes. She’d tried to hold on to the promise of seeing her son again. But Bev was no fool. She knew she couldn’t withstand another night like that. She’d seen his face. She could identify his home.

She wasn’t going to make it out of here alive.

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