AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘What the fuck did you do to him?’ Quinn demands.
Phil snorts. ‘Give over. That wasn’t me.’
He’s right: there’s no way the brief altercation she just witnessed caused these injuries. Clearly someone got to the man before they did. His face is pulped to a bloody mess. One eye is already swollen shut and his nose is mashed almost sideways against his cheek. He’s not going to be breaking many hearts at the tennis club anytime soon.
He coughs painfully, and spits out blood and bits of teeth.
‘Christ almighty,’ Phil says. ‘What happened to you?’
The man swivels his good eye towards the door.
‘There’s no one else here,’ Quinn says. ‘You’re OK, for now.’
Phil picks up his camera and shakes it. It rattles ominously. ‘Fuck.’ He throws the man a dirty look. ‘Asshole. You sure this is the right guy, Quinn?’
She crouches down beside the man and grabs his right hand, turning it over so they can both see the inside of his wrist. A tattoo of a compass rose, identical to the one in the infamous video.
‘Are you Ian Dutton?’ Quinn asks.
The man sucks in a breath and then nods.
‘What happened? Do you know who did this?’
The man glances towards the door again. He’s not worried about someone lurking in the hall, she realises suddenly: he’s looking towards the wardrobe.
Phil sees it, too. At Quinn’s nod, he flings opens the closet door.
Cowering on the floor of the walk-in wardrobe, tangled amongst the trainers and tennis rackets, is a little girl.
