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In his mind, Steven could already see the huntsman stretch, hear the shrieks and the ripping muscles, watch the neck lengthen and split, exposing red-liquorice veins and chewing-gum skin. He could already see the head jerk and pop off, and roll twitching into a corner, while the rest of Bob Coffin fishtailed across the floor, spraying fountains of blood, until the soles of his dead feet hit the wall.

Jonas stopped at the winch and Steven twisted to look up into his eyes.

They were as blank as a shark’s – as cold and dark as the muzzle of the huntsman’s gun – in a face Steven had seen before and would never make the mistake of forgetting again.

‘You killed her,’ he whispered. ‘I know you did.’

Jonas said nothing. And – even over the battle-drum roar of the rain on the roof – Steven heard the winch whirr into life.

‘Get out!’ he shouted at the rafters. ‘Jess, get them OUT!’

Then he squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears, but he heard the screams anyway, as Bob Coffin started to die.

63

RICE BEAT THE helicopter to the Blacklands Hunt kennels.

Reynolds knew she would.

The rain was biblical now and the second they stepped out of the car they were drenched. Reynolds ran through the yard – past the row of empty kennels on his left, stables on his right.

‘Be careful!’ yelled Rice behind him, but he wasn’t. Irrational fear had gripped him and made him reckless for the first time in his life.

Ahead of him the concrete sloped down towards a large shed. Reynolds faltered as the huge door squealed open, then stopped dead as four children spilled out of the light and into the storm. They were half naked, weeping and terrified, but even through the driving rain Reynolds recognized them as if he’d fathered them.

‘Elizabeth!’ he yelled, and he ran down the ramp.

Jess Took pointed into the shed and cried, ‘He’s killing him.’

Reynolds burst through the door in time to see the final screaming agony of Bob Coffin.

Too late.

There was a loud crack and the chain wound around Coffin’s neck snapped in two. It whipped up and hit the wall, sending a single broken link skittering past Reynolds’s feet like money. The huntsman skidded across the concrete in the other direction, his boots hitting the opposite wall, his knees crumpling behind them.

‘Christ!’ Reynolds bounded across the room and hit the cutoff switch. Jonas Holly and Steven Lamb were right there and he turned to them now, fizzing with adrenaline.

The sight of them stopped him dead.

Jonas Holly was covered in blood and bruises, one eye was barely open and his chest and stomach ran with blood from fresh wounds. Beside him – chained to him – Steven Lamb emitted a high, whining noise. His eyes were tightly shut, his teeth gritted with the effort of remaining blind, his hands pressed against his ears.

‘Steven?’ said Reynolds, and touched his shoulder. ‘Steven, you’re safe.’

Steven opened his eyes. For a brief second Reynolds saw relief on his face – then panic hit, and he started to shout and flail.

‘Get him off me! Get him off me! Please, just get him off me! Please …’

Jonas and Reynolds fended off what blows they could. Reynolds kept saying You’re safe and It’s over, but Steven was beyond sense. In the middle of it all, Jonas put his hands to Steven’s throat – and opened the lock that had held them together. Steven grabbed the key from his hand and pushed himself off Jonas. He fell to the floor and crawled rapidly away, only stumbling to his feet again as he burst out of the shed door.

Reynolds was so full of questions that he asked none of them. And Jonas Holly just stood there blinking, as if he’d been surprised out of sleep. The brief silence was plugged by the rain and – at last – the whup-whup-whup of the chopper.

Reynolds knelt and unwound the chain from Coffin’s neck as the ambulances approached. He was going to need one. Coffin was still breathing but not moving. Whatever the provocation, if Jonas Holly had done this to him, there was something wrong with the man. Something seriously wrong. Reynolds felt it in his guts and he didn’t care if it was unscientific.

He saw a gun lying in the middle of the floor. Under normal circumstances he’d insist that it was left where it was, for the scenes-of-crime officers to photograph in situ. But these were not normal circumstances, and Reynolds stepped swiftly over Bob Coffin to pick it up. He felt safer with it in his hand, and realized just how unsafe he’d felt until then.

God knows what the hell had happened here over the past two months or the past two minutes. He had an uneasy feeling that the Piper case had only just started giving up its secrets. He shivered. This hunch thing was like opening the window to a vampire – after letting the first one in, it seemed he had no choice in the matter.

Paramedics strode in, and he pointed at Bob Coffin. One of them put a blanket around Jonas’s shoulders and led him out of the big shed.

Reynolds watched him all the way.