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Back The Woman in the Wood Save as PDF
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by M.K. Hill
  3. THE WOMAN IN THE WOOD
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Contents
  7. Epigraph
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. 11
  19. 12
  20. 13
  21. 14
  22. 15
  23. 16
  24. 17
  25. 18
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. 32
  40. 33
  41. 34
  42. 35
  43. 36
  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. Acknowledgements
  61. About the Author
  62. An Invitation from the Publisher

‘Nicking stuff, cars and bikes, fighting with gangs. All the usual stuff you do before you grow up. But even Tony eventually realized Deano was trouble and got shot of him. That’s why you’re here, is it, because Deano’s in the shit?’

‘He’s died,’ Sasha said.

Angie’s lips puckered. ‘What happened?’

Sasha didn’t want to go into detail about how Deano’s body was torn apart. But Lolly said with a helpful bluntness, ‘He was hit by a train.’

‘You don’t think Tony’s got anything to do with it? He ain’t got a nasty bone in his body. He’s a good- for-nothing waster, but he couldn’t hurt a fly. And anyway,’ Angie added, ‘he wouldn’t know how to operate a train.’

‘We just want to speak to Tony about Mr Dean.’

Angie took out another cigarette and tapped it against the packet. ‘Well, you talk to Tony, it’s none of my business, but first I need to get money from him so his two boys can have something for their tea tonight, so if you’ll excuse me.’

Angie walked towards Tony’s front door, and Lolly looked at Sasha. What do we do?

‘Let her speak to him first,’ Sasha said. ‘There’s no rush.’

There was no knocker or doorbell, so Angie banged on the door. She took out a lighter.

‘Tone.’ Angie crouched at the letter box, lifting the flap, the unlit fag bobbing in her mouth. ‘Are you in there?’

‘She’s right.’ Lolly turned in a circle on the pavement, sniffing the air. ‘There’s a smell.’

Sasha lifted her nose.

‘Angie,’ she called urgently, running towards the bungalow. ‘Get back from—’

But when Angie flicked on the lighter in front of her face, the curtains inside jumped, and then the front windows flew out of the bungalow, and a blast blew them all off their feet.

23

Sasha sat in the ambulance at the entrance to the cul-de-sac. The street was full of emergency services vehicles: police cars, science support vans and a pair of fire engines. The fire raging in Tony Gardner’s home had been put out, and the concrete forecourt and pavement outside his house was sopping wet, channels of water racing along the uneven paving and into the gutter; the walls of the bungalow were blackened by smoke.

The front door had been blown off its hinges and landed right on top of Angie Gardner. But she’d had a lucky escape, as it had stopped her from getting caught directly in the blast and showered with the glass that flew everywhere when the windows blew out.