David reaches forward and brushes it aside.

‘You’re probably wondering how I can be doing this,’ he says,

‘and sometimes I wonder the same thing. I think about it a lot, you know. Ever since Rachel. She was your sister too. I think how things might have been different, but you know what? They’re

not different, are they? They’re exactly as they are.’

He grabs her arms and starts dragging her towards the grave.

She slides easily over the wet ground. I still have no idea who this girl is.

She tries pulling away from him, but she’s too weak, too cold, and probably in too much shock to be able to fight him. He gets her next to the grave. He lays her alongside the hole and crouches over her.

I start circling around the edge of the light towards him.

The girl’s murmurs grow louder.

‘Sshh,’ he says, ‘sshh. It’s going to be okay now. Ifs going to be okay. Things are going to be easier for you than the others.’

He unzips his jacket and takes it off. He undoes his belt

and pulls it from his waist. He undoes the button and the fly, and starts to lower his jeans.

He hears my footsteps as I run towards him. He looks over his

shoulder, but he can’t move because his pants are halfway down his legs, and when I hit him he’s in no position to defend himself.

We fly into the grave and he lands heavily on the coffin with me on top of him, just like it was with Sidney Alderman. There is a loud cracking sound of bone breaking, but if it’s mine I can’t feel anything.

It’s not dark down here like it was last time, and I’ve a better idea of the geography of the place now, so I’m able to right myself before he does. I pull him up by the front of his jacket and swing my fist at him as hard as I can, and this time the sound of breaking bone comes from my hand as it connects with the side of his face.

He falls backwards, and I start to shake my hand, unsure of how many fingers I’ve just busted.

I get to my feet and back away.

David Harding lies unconscious, his arm twisted on a strange

angle and his face lolled into the corner of the coffin.

I make my way out of the ground the same way I did last time.

The girl is staring at me. There is a small bloodspot in her left eye, perhaps from a burst blood vessel. I pull the tape from her mouth and she sucks in a deep breath. I grab my keys and try using the longest one to cut through the duct tape around her wrists but it won’t make a start.

‘Wh … where is … is he?’ she asks, her teeth chattering and her eyes darting back and forth like a wired-up junkie’s.

‘It’s okay’ I say.

‘That’s … that’s what he said.’

I try picking at the edge of the tape, but my fingers are too

cold on one hand and busted up on the other.

‘What’s your name?’ I ask.

‘Stacey’

‘Listen to me, Stacey, it’s going to be okay. My name is Tate

and I’m here to help you. You just have to wait here for a few seconds.’

“No, no, don’t leave.’

“I’ll be ten seconds.’

‘Please.’

It hurts to ignore her cry, but I do it. I open the door to David’s car and pop open the glovebox. There’s a pocketknife in there

that makes fast work of the duct tape.

She sits up and folds her arms in front of her.

‘Okay Stacey, here’s what I want you to do. We’re going to

get you to your feet and into the car,’ I say, taking off my jacket.

‘It’s dry and warm in there, and —’ I wrap the jacket around her — ‘and I want you to drive away from here. You know how to drive, right?’

‘Where do I go?’

“I want you to drive home. Then call the police.’

‘Okay’

I help her into the car. She tightens the jacket around her when she sits down. I lean in and start it.

‘Drive carefully, Stacey. You’re in a state of shock, you need to be careful. Do you think you can drive?’

‘Yes.’

Are you sure?’

‘There’s another woman.’

‘Where is she?’

‘He made her make a phone call. He made her lie about where

we were.’

‘Where is she, Stacey?’

She starts to cry. “I was so scared. I couldn’t help her. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything.’

‘Where is she?’

‘He put her into the water. He tied something around her legs

and she couldn’t swim with all that weight. She just sank. She sank real fast. It was so …’

She doesn’t finish the sentence.

‘Put your seatbelt on, Stacey.’

‘Okay’ She answers as if on automatic now. ‘Do you have a

cellphone? I can call the police.’

“It’S not on me. If you don’t think you can drive, then wait at the exit from the graveyard.’

‘What way is that?’

‘Turn around and go back the way he came. You’ll see where

to go soon enough.’

‘Okay’

And Stacey?’

‘Yes.’

‘Take your time. There’s no hurry now. I have a promise to

keep.’

chapter fifty-nine

There has to be a shovel around here somewhere but I can’t see it. I don’t want to spend long looking for it, and after about a minute I figure that’s long enough. The night is quiet except for the wind swirling around the trees and the rain slapping on the ground.

I shine the torch into the grave, and David is lying there in the same position I left him.

‘Hey hey, David, wake up. Hey!’

I pick up handfuls of dirt and start throwing them at his

face, hoping they’ll bring him around but they don’t. My hand

is aching from the punch I threw. I throw more dirt at David.

He groans. He looks half asleep as he tries to roll over inside the coffin. Things get a little awkward for him, and he reaches up to his face and a moment later opens his eyes.

Everything must flood back to him, because now he sits up

straight. His arm is on a funny angle and he stares at it with a confused look. He seems to understand what has happened just

as the pain hits him. His face tightens up as he tries to cradle his bad arm with his good.

‘What the fuck?’ he says.

‘Remember me?’ I ask.

He looks up at me, and I point the torch at myself so he can

get a good look.

“Yeah look, Mister, I don’t want any trouble here,’ David says, as if I’m the one causing trouble and he just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

‘Cut the bullshit, David. You’re not fooling me twice.’

‘I don’t even know who you are,’ he says, and a month ago he

might have been able to act his way out of any situation. But right here, right now in this moment, the mask he wears to fit into and be a part of normal society doesn’t cover his eyes.

‘You know who I am.’

‘And what if I do?’

‘If you do, then you know you’re seriously fucked up right

about now.’

‘So what, you’re going to kill me now? Is that your plan?’ he

asks.

‘You know I really haven’t decided yet. That’s about as close

as I can get. See, the last four weeks have been kind of tough on me. Hell, the last two years. I’m trying to weigh everything up, and I just don’t know.’

‘Fuck you.’ He gets to his feet and starts looking around,

probably trying to figure out if he can climb out before I get to him. I wonder how he got Father Julian out. He doesn’t look

strong enough to have lifted that much weight. I point the torch at the ground and pick out drag marks across the grass. He probably tied a rope around the body and towed it with his car. Maybe he towed him all the way to the lake.

‘Tell me why’ I say.

‘Get me the fuck out of here, man, my arm is killing me.’

‘Talk to me.’

‘No.’

‘Come on, tell me why. Was it because you liked fucking your

sisters?’ I ask, trying to shock him.

He doesn’t answer. Just looks up at me.