Shadow Over Edmund Street by Suzanne Frankham (read a book .TXT) 📕

and the other grabbed him by the throat. Stronger than a man his age was supposed to be, the judge latched onto the arms wrapped around his neck and prised them away as if they were matchsticks, twisting the constable’s wrists. Alex heard a snap. The young man fell to the floor, screaming. Alex could see the madness in the judge’s eyes, the same insanity Rose had seen. It filled his athletic body with superhuman strength.

The judge picked up the fallen bat and crashed it down on the arms encircling his legs. Again and again. Alex heard the constable cry out as he released his hold. He saw the judge turn, a smile on his face. Thought, it can’t end here, on the floor. No, it can’t, just as he heard Jerry’s voice shouting from above. Demanding attention. The cavalry, he thought.

‘Hey, Judge,’ yelled Jerry, charging down the stairs, a bull of a man filling the space. ‘Keen on a bit of fun, are you?’

Alex heard Marion’s voice in the distance, screaming at someone, asking where in the hell the armed backup was, yelling for a taser. He could hear sirens. He started to pant, trying to control the pain of breathing. They had to hang on, he thought. Another few minutes. He propped himself up, feeling behind him for one of the cricket stumps. Saw Jerry catch the idea.

The judge stared at Jerry. Two strong men taking the measure of one other. ‘We know about you, Eddie,’ Jerry said. ‘We know about your mother. Wow, what a good one. Takes a special kind of person to snuff out his own mother. We know about your mother-in-law too, and the truth about your father-in-law. Right arsehole, aren’t you? Your wife’s not going to be very happy when she finds out you’ve offed her parents.’

The judge growled. His mask of superiority gone. The demonic madness, the hatred, the violence on show. Alex could see an explosion building. It came. A rumbling which grew louder. An enraged animal.

Jerry tackled. The super-powered tackle of a front row forward giving it everything he had.

Alex tried to stand, to add his bit with the cricket stump, before Rose wrenched it out of his hand. She scrambled to her knees and brought it down on the judge’s back with all her strength, before collapsing back to the floor. The judge screamed, but driven by manic fury pulled himself out of Jerry’s grasp and stumbled to his feet.

Marion was down on one knee, waiting for a clear shot with the taser. Hand steady, her body rigid. She chose her moment. She took the shot.

The judge collapsed as the room filled with uniforms, protective vests and headgear, guns drawn. Alex heard himself shout in as commanding a voice as he could manage, ‘No shooting. We need to know,’ before Marion took control and organised the crush of men in the room.

It’s over, Alex thought, keeping his breathing shallow. Pain knifed down his side. He tried to ignore it. It has to be over. The cuffs went on, and a ring of blue formed around the judge, immobile and moaning.

Jerry crawled towards him. ‘How is she?’

Alex turned towards Rose. ‘I don’t know. Breathing. She’s breathing.’

‘I’m okay,’ Rose said. Her eyes were closed and her face was like chalk.

‘Oh God, Rose. Please be all right.’

‘I will be, Alex,’ she whispered, but her eyes remained shut.

‘What about you, Boss?’ asked Jerry.

‘Ribs, I think.’ He would have liked to say more, but he couldn’t. Later. There would be time. ‘Marion?’

‘I’m here, Alex.’ She was there, next to Jerry. ‘I told you we’d make it. Rose will be all right.’ Her breathing was heavy her words forced, unsteady.

‘So you did, Mar, so you did.’ He leaned against the wall, let his body relax. Took hold of Rose’s hand and started to pray, repeating the prayers he knew from his childhood. The ones his mother had offered up to her favourite saints.

‘You didn’t ask about me, Mar,’ Jerry said in a whisper.

‘What about you, Jerry? Rushing in with a rugby tackle. It’s what you do every weekend.’ He could hear tears in Marion’s voice, knew she was close to breaking.

‘I’ve broken my leg, Mar.’

Alex turned his head, taking in the awkward angle Jerry was lying. Marion caught her breath.

‘Oh, Jerry. I can see now. Still,’ she added, ‘you’re always injuring yourself, broken the same leg before I think, you must be used to it.’

‘No, Mar, it hurts. A lot. I don’t feel good.’

Marion slumped down next to Jerry. He reached out and took her hand, pulling it to his cheek, a straw of comfort.

‘Hold on, Jerry. The ambulances are on their way. We’ll get you to hospital. All of you. I promise.’ Her voice faded, feeble. ‘I promise.’

‘Marion,’ Jerry said.

‘What?’

‘I like holding your hand. I really do.’

A sob escaped from Marion. ‘Don’t frighten me, Jerry. You’re not too bad.’

‘Hold me tight, Mar, I’m scared.’

‘Jerry.’ Marion was weeping now.

Jerry slumped back, his face white, beads of perspiration on his forehead, but Alex saw his eyes were bright, a trace of mischief showing.

Jesus Christ, thought Alex. Even now. Joking. He glanced at Marion again and saw tears streaming down her face. Shock, he thought. It’s shock. Damn Jerry. I’ll talk to him later. He squeezed Rose’s hand and her eyes opened. He tried to smile, but it hurt. My God, he thought, this hurts.

—

PART 5 Scar Tissue

— Alex sat in the car, staring at Rose’s house, Dog pressed hard against his side. The front window had been fixed, the shards of glass gathered up, the broken plant pots removed, the porch swept. All evidence of that dramatic day consigned to the garbage. A semblance of normality. A wiping of the slate. The first step in the cleansing process.

His memories of the past few days were jumbled, vague. He knew it had been six days since they’d fought for their lives in the basement of this very house. He’d counted it out several times. It felt