Chapters (96)

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96

Ollie made sure he didn’t let go. He could feel the animals on the man’s belt struggling, trapped between their two bodies. The father was gurgling and scratching at Ollie’s hands, but Ollie could feel him weakening. He had dropped whatever it was he’d been holding and Ollie saw it lying there. A large, leather-bound book, stained with bloody handprints.

He made a quick decision. Let go with one hand, picked up the book and brought it crashing down on the man’s forehead. The man gulped and jerked and went still. Now Ollie was finally able to get his knife out and he stabbed it upwards at his face, ramming it through the roof of his mouth and into his brain.

It was over.

Gasping and shaking, Ollie stood up and kicked the body, then untangled the cat. It hopped away, one of its legs broken. It probably wouldn’t live much longer, but at least it was free.

Ollie left his knife where it was. He didn’t want to look at the man again. Didn’t want to touch him. He could get another knife. He also couldn’t face the other kids yet. If he didn’t have to talk about what he’d just done then it hadn’t happened. He moved away and sat down again. This had been a private thing, between him and the man.

He looked at the book. Recognized it. It was the one that the little girl, Lettis, had been writing in. This book had been precious to her. She wouldn’t have let it out of her sight unless …

Ollie looked over at the church. He could see flames at the windows now. Her body would be among all the others in there. By the end of the day it would be ashes. This book would be all that was left of her.

It was a journal, wasn’t it? It struck him that it might contain some clues to what had happened here. He opened it and read the first line from the final entry …

This is the journal of Lettis Slingsbury.

He flipped through the pages and felt a tightening in his throat every time he saw her name, the way she kept repeating it, each time smaller and scratchier than the last. He worked back, found what she’d written about being left behind at the church, and then the discussions about burying the body. As he got to the part where the kids had got attacked outside, the writing became messier and more scrawled.

Finally he got back to where he’d started. The last entry in the book.

Chapter 77