BooksBarbecue
Back Rabbit Hole
Chapters (73)
  1. Rabbit Hole
  2. Also by Mark Billingham
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. Preface
  8. PART ONE
  9. ONE
  10. TWO
  11. THREE
  12. FOUR
  13. FIVE
  14. SIX
  15. SEVEN
  16. EIGHT
  17. NINE
  18. TEN
  19. ELEVEN
  20. TWELVE
  21. THIRTEEN
  22. FOURTEEN
  23. FIFTEEN
  24. SIXTEEN
  25. SEVENTEEN
  26. EIGHTEEN
  27. NINETEEN
  28. TWENTY
  29. TWENTY-ONE
  30. TWENTY-TWO
  31. TWENTY-THREE
  32. TWENTY-FOUR
  33. TWENTY-FIVE
  34. TWENTY-SIX
  35. TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. TWENTY-NINE
  38. THIRTY
  39. THIRTY-ONE
  40. THIRTY-TWO
  41. THIRTY-THREE
  42. PART TWO
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. THIRTY-FIVE
  45. THIRTY-SIX
  46. THIRTY-SEVEN
  47. THIRTY-EIGHT
  48. THIRTY-NINE
  49. FORTY
  50. FORTY-ONE
  51. FORTY-TWO
  52. FORTY-THREE
  53. FORTY-FOUR
  54. FORTY-FIVE
  55. FORTY-SIX
  56. FORTY-SEVEN
  57. FORTY-EIGHT
  58. FORTY-NINE
  59. FIFTY
  60. FIFTY-ONE
  61. FIFTY-TWO
  62. FIFTY-THREE
  63. FIFTY-FOUR
  64. FIFTY-FIVE
  65. FIFTY-SIX
  66. FIFTY-SEVEN
  67. FIFTY-EIGHT
  68. PART THREE
  69. FIFTY-NINE
  70. SIXTY
  71. EPILOGUE
  72. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  73. Back Cover
Document

Poor old Shaun’s still in hospital, and so is Donna and Tony got moved to the ward downstairs. Bob’s section got extended, although all anybody’s been able to find out is that he made ‘inappropriate advances’ to one of the nurses. I think it was probably Mia, but Lucy says she heard it was Marcus, so who knows? I’m not sure what happened to Tiny Tears or the Jigsaw Man and I don’t much care.

We’re all doing OK, though, me and Ilias and Lucy. We talk and we share things and we look after each other. Last time we were out, Ilias raised his pint glass and we toasted.

‘To the three mental musketeers . . .’

So, this place isn’t a palace and I’m not exactly minted and I’ve all but given up on ever working with the Met again, but I still think I’m doing pretty well. Most important, my head’s together for the first time in a long while. I’ve worked everything out. I know now that what’s important when you’re dealing with a bastard like PTSD is that you face it head on.

Then, you can own it.

If you don’t, you’re just playing some part you think makes other people comfortable, and that’s when you end up with a mask you can’t ever take off.

Whatever that Alzheimer’s drug was must have done the trick, because the blackouts stopped happening pretty quickly and all those things I’d forgotten started to come back. Just flashes at first, but then longer and longer stretches until there weren’t any holes any more.

Now, I can even remember the song that was going through my head just before walking into that toilet and finding Debbie’s body. I remember the blood, the shape of it pooling around her like wings and I remember turning and seeing the knife. I can recall every moment of it with perfect clarity. Too perfect, sometimes.

I can remember exactly how I felt, too. The desperate need to do something, that instinct to preserve life kicking in, and then the panic and the horror when I realised that I couldn’t. The memory of those few desperate minutes in that toilet has returned, complete and terrible.

Only now, of course, I know there was someone in there with me.

SIXTY

SIXTY

I open up the app, press the button and watch the virtual coin spin.

There’s a nice, satisfying clink as it lands.

I start to put the black top on . . .