BooksBarbecue
Back Right to Kill Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Note to Readers
  3. Dedication
  4. 1
  5. Thursday
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. Friday
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. Saturday
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. Sunday
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. Monday
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. 36
  45. 37
  46. 38
  47. Tuesday
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. Wednesday
  56. 46
  57. Epilogue
  58. 47
  59. Acknowledgements
  60. About the Publisher

‘I took him after school today. He’s at a secure location. I wish I hadn’t…’

‘Took him? Is he conscious?’

‘Now? Perhaps.’

‘Tell me where.’

‘I can’t. This is how it’s going to be. I didn’t want to do it.’ Her lips were glistening, and her eyes were streaming with tears. ‘It was all I could… Oh God!’

He grabbed his phone.

‘I’m going to throw up,’ she said, pulling herself unsteadily to her feet. ‘Don’t make me do it here, Joe, please. I need to…’

He sprang up, panicking, fingers prodding the screen of his phone.

‘OK.’

With the phone pressed to his ear he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to a passageway that ran down the side of the pub. With every diner in the place watching them, he pushed her towards the toilets and positioned himself on the corner, just a few strides away.

‘Rita? Rita! Kieron Burnett. He’s a kid from her school. Thirteen years old. She’s got him locked up somewhere. Repeat: Kieron Burnett. Kieron Burnett.’

42

I’ve got no choice now.

A woman about my age has just gone to the ladies’. She’s in a bright-red jacket and cream trousers. Her hair is dark, a bit like mine. The trousers? Mine are black. I’ve got no choice.

As I follow her in, Joe’s standing at the beginning of the passageway, a couple of paces behind me, shouting into his phone, telling them about Kieron.

The woman is going into one of the cubicles when I get there. I slam my foot into the door before she locks it. The door batters into her. She topples forward, hugging the toilet basin as she falls. There’s a little gasp, shock more than anything. I stand over her, punch her in the temple. Twice. Three times. Not very hard. It doesn’t need to be.

I drag the jacket from her as she whimpers. She’s already peeing herself, arms above her head in self-defence, but her body’s loose, and she’s only semi-conscious. I ditch my jacket, swap it for hers. Her glasses are on the floor. I grab them, put them on. I look in her handbag. I take a phone in a white wallet, a cigarette from an open packet and a lighter. I get my car keys ready.

I pause at the door for one deep breath. Red jacket and glasses; white phone up to my face; cigarette between my lips, lighter and keys in the other hand, the lighter also held up to my face. It’s the best I can do. Plus, the car’s right outside.