BooksBarbecue
Back The Hollows
Chapters (77)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright Page
  4. Dedication
  5. PART I
  6. 1.
  7. 2.
  8. 3.
  9. 4.
  10. 5.
  11. 6.
  12. 7.
  13. 8.
  14. PART II
  15. 9.
  16. 10.
  17. 11.
  18. 12.
  19. 13.
  20. 14.
  21. 15.
  22. 16.
  23. 17.
  24. 18.
  25. 19.
  26. 20.
  27. 21.
  28. 22.
  29. 23.
  30. 24.
  31. 25.
  32. 26.
  33. 27.
  34. 28.
  35. 29.
  36. 30.
  37. 31.
  38. 32.
  39. 33.
  40. 34.
  41. 35.
  42. 36.
  43. PART III
  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. PART IV
  74. 66.
  75. 67.
  76. 68.
  77. Acknowledgements

The dog was barking, hauling on its chain, rearing up on its back legs, forepaws slashing at the air. Ellie turned sideways, stepping backwards towards the wall – keep the door on one side, Liz and the dog on the other. She’d still be penned in and trapped, but her back would be safe. She put one hand on the pepper spray, the other on her baton; if necessary, she’d fight her way out.

Outside it was dark; the air whirled with snow. God knew if she could even make it back to Barsall in that, but right now she only hoped she’d get the chance. And then the kitchen door flew open, and the Harper boys burst in.

5.

5.

First in was Frank, biggest and eldest of the boys – man of the house and head of the family, as he liked to fancy himself, but in reality his mother’s obedient lapdog, though no-one ever said so to his face. He was just over six feet tall in his trainers, with his mother’s jowly face and hard grey eyes in a square, shaven head. A stained vest with a Union Jack design showed off arms and shoulders thick with steroid-boosted lifter’s muscles and dotted with blue-ink prison tattoos.

“You.” He jabbed a thick forefinger at Ellie. “What you doing to our mum?”

Keira bobbed at his elbow, teeth bared in a grin, and Dom Harper darted across the kitchen, surprisingly fast for his bulk. The next eldest after Frank, he had the same shaved head but was far shorter, with Liz’s toad-like build, none of the muscle, and a wide, flat-nosed face. Foetal Alcohol Syndrome: Liz had suffered a terrible thirst for the gin while carrying him. His blue hooded top and grey leggings were stained and filthy; Ellie caught their stink as he passed. He crouched by the dog, muttering, fumbling at the chain around its neck.

Paul Harper pushed the kitchen door shut and leant back against it, eyeing Ellie and smirking. He was the least impressive of the men to look at; gangly-thin with prematurely receding hair, a greasy ponytail and smudged glasses fixed with tape, but as his victims could testify – or had, before recanting their statements – his strength belied his looks. Ellie was keeping clear of him most of all.

“Oi,” Frank shouted. “Talking to you! Fuck do you want?”

“Stop it!” Jess screamed, over the baby’s squalling. “Stop it, just stop it –”

Keira rounded on her. “Shut the fuck up, you stupid cunt, and shut that fucking mutant of yours up –”

“Quiet!” Liz thumped the table, and the kitchen fell silent, except for the baby’s whimpers and sobs. Jess did her best to rock it as Ellie had shown her, and it quietened a little. Dom cradled the dog, still muttering; it licked his face. Paul took one of Tony’s shotgun-shell knives out, using it to clean his nails.