Page 69 of One of Us Is Guilty

I swung down hard, and at a sharp angle.

I didn’t want to kill him.

But when the tire iron hit his right knee he probably wished he was dead.

He went down screaming.

His buddy rolled around on the ground, clutching his chest where I’d put my shoulder into his sternum. He was panting, trying to get air. I rolled him into the recovery position, stood and threw the tire iron straight through the driver’s window of the SUV. The hazard lights and alarm flared.

Then I pushed the front door open and stepped inside.

Another set of double doors stood four feet in front of me. This was an inner hallway and on my left was a security panel with a digital keypad and a large green button marked ALARM beside it.

I smacked the alarm button and pushed open the double doors.

As the alarm rang out through the house, I found myself in the marble hallway I’d been in some weeks ago. Corridor to my left.Another to my right. A hallway dead ahead that led to the conservatory and a staircase sweeping up beside. Fabergé eggs and art that cost more than most Manhattan apartments.

Cupping my hands in front of me, I stared straight ahead and stood very still.

Footsteps to my left. Coming up fast. I turned casually and saw another security guy, dressed all in black. Younger than the others. He saw me standing in the hall, casually, and slowed as he approached. He stood in front of me in a wide stance, hands ready in case he needed to tackle me. There are various types of intruders. A man in a nice suit and tie standing still in a hallway doesn’t fit the bill.

Before he could speak, I said, ‘Something’s burning.’

‘Burning?’

‘Yeah.’

He dropped his hands, said, ‘What’s burning?’

‘Your balls.’

I took one step forward and planted my left foot, swung my right leg into a kick that would score a forty-yard field goal.

He was regretting that wide stance as he clutched his groin and dropped to the floor, mouth wide open, sucking in air, unable to scream.

I got down on one knee, as I heard someone else approaching on my right. I rolled the guy on the floor onto his side. To anyone who hadn’t seen me give him an almighty kick in the balls moments ago, it would look like I was trying to help the guy out.

‘What the hell happened?’ said a voice behind me. He stepped in close, trying to look over my shoulder. Whoever he was, he had a deep voice and I saw the toe of his military boot step in close to the body of his pal on the floor. I got up fast, driving myself into a standing position, using all the power in my legs, and I turned and caught the new guy right under the chin with an uppercut.

He staggered back and I grabbed his tie with my left. Hit himthree hard shots with my right as his legs folded underneath him. I didn’t need the third punch. He was out cold in two, but it was already on its way to his jaw. I still had hold of his tie as he went down. Didn’t want him to crack his skull on the marble floor.

Soon as he was safely on the ground, I let go of his tie and spun round.

Dekker was almost down the stairs. Behind him, tying off a silk dressing gown, was Julian Vanderpool.

‘What the fuck?’ said Dekker when he saw the two guys either side of me, one rolling around on the floor with his hands between his thighs, the other letting out a loud snore.

I ignored Dekker, looked right past him at Julian.

‘My daughter? You drugged my daughter?’ I asked, my right fist still clenched.

‘I didn’t drug anyone. I asked my guy for some pictures and a story, and that’s what I got. Good coverage, don’t you think?’

‘She’s only fifteen, you son of a—’

‘I just wanted to make sure you remembered who is in charge,’ said Julian. ‘The news cycle moves fast. Tomorrow the tabloids will be full of the story of Vanessa’s upcoming trial and a statement from Patrick confirming he’s filed for divorce. We’re cutting Vanessa loose. If she tries to blame my son for the murder, I will crucify the both of you. Consider this awarning, Flynn.’

‘After what you did tonight, you’ve made up my mind. You’re a tough old sick son of a bitch. I can’t hurt you. Not directly. But I can hurt him. He’s the only thing you care about, and I’m going to make sure he suffers, and thatisn’tawarning. It’s a goddamn guaranteed golden ticket and I’m Willy fuckin’ Wonka.’