A young guy wearing Lycra is in the neighbouring front garden, wheeling his bin down the path. When he notices me all the colour drains from his face, his jaw slack. I must look mad with my unwashed hair and crumpled clothes. It’s almost funny. I ignore him and get into the car, throwing the gun onto the back seat.

I can see Lycra Guy through my rear-view mirror as I pull away. A mobile phone is pressed to his ear and he’s gesticulating. I think I hear another scream although it could be the seagulls lined up on the wall, their beady eyes watching me, judging me.

It’s only then that I begin to shake uncontrollably. I can’t be sure whether it’s the adrenalin, or the realization that there is definitely no going back for me. For us.

This is just the beginning.

Chapter 1

1

Jess

BRISTOL AND SOMERSET HERALD

Tuesday, 13 March 2012

DOUBLE MURDER SHOCKS SLEEPY SEASIDE TOWN

by Jessica Fox

A murder investigation is under way after two people were found dead at a house in the seaside Somerset town of Tilby on Friday.

Detectives were called to the beachside property in Shackleton Road just after 7 a.m. When the police entered the cottage they found two bodies, thought to be local businessman Clive Wilson, 58, and his mother, Deirdre Wilson, 76. They had been shot. The property was cordoned off and police and forensics officers were at the scene throughout the day.

A third person, 32-year-old Heather Underwood, was found unconscious at a caravan park less than half a mile away. She had sustained a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the chest and is currently in a critical condition in hospital.

Detective Chief Inspector Gary Ruthgow of Avon and Somerset Police said officers were called to the Georgian property by paramedics. He confirmed that detectives are not looking for anyone else in relation to the deaths. He said: ‘This is a small town and I would urge anyone with any information that could assist with our investigation to please get in touch.’

Neighbours on the well-heeled street, which consists of a boutique hotel as well as permanent residences and second homes, are shocked and saddened by the horrific murders.

I sit back in my chair and re-read the article. The deadline is in twenty minutes. It’s taken me nearly an hour to write just five paragraphs. If I don’t send it soon it won’t make the front page tomorrow, and my news editor, Ted, will have my guts for garters (one of his favourite phrases and always said in a droll tone).