He walked over to the tap by the stairs, and filled a bucket with cold water. Walking back over to her, he threw the contents into her face, drenching her. But, other than trying to catch her breath, which was a natural reaction, the shock of the cold water did nothing to revive her. He could see her trying to focus on him, on her surroundings, and he felt a sudden, fleeting moment of sorrow for her. He had quite liked her, and that wasn’t something he had been prepared for – had certainly never expected.

He looked down at her; she was clearly unable to understand what was happening around her. It occurred to him that the infection from her ankles had probably entered her bloodstream, and she was likely suffering from blood poisoning. Even with the stench of faeces in the room, he could still detect the underlying odour of her rotting flesh. It was a sour smell, a heavy, cloying stench that seemed to rise up from her skin, and envelop the very air around her body. It was sharp in the nostrils, made your eyes water, and it smelt like imminent death.

He grabbed her hand, and held it gently between his palms. She was in a sorry state all right. But what could he do? This was what he had intended to happen. He had been left with nobody, all because Patrick Costello had held a grudge against his father. Costello had a perfect alibi for that night, and Steven had finally worked out that Michael Flynn, Costello’s up-and-coming young wannabe, had done the dirty deed in his name. He had poured the petrol through the letterbox, and he had wiped out a whole family to better himself. All that so he could become Patrick Costello’s blue-eyed boy. Well, as the Bible said, be sure your sins will find you out.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Six

Chapter One Hundred
and Thirty-Six

Michael and Declan had made their way around the property, carefully and quietly creeping towards the back of the house. It wasn’t a large property – a pre-war, two-storey, red-brick house, with no aesthetic value. It was still in possession of its old-style Crittall windows – there was nothing of any beauty to give the house its own identity. It was very well built, but it needed a lot of work on it if anyone was going to live there for any length of time. It had been neglected, and that showed.