Page 95

All men, pushed beyond the limit of what their ego can endure, are capable of murder. But Joseph Carver has demonstrated a depravity beyond anything Gabriel had anticipated. Instead of reserving his wrath for those who crossed him directly, he’s rampaged far beyond the natural boundaries of vengeance, his killing indiscriminate.
In truth, Drew Cullen’s fate has moved Gabriel only in relation to his brother’s. What he fears most is that Carver killed her first, intending to terrorize Angus in his last moments. Gabriel will have to respond in kind. He’ll take no pleasure from it – this is a dead world, now, in which anger and hatred are redundant – but perhaps he can find a measure of satisfaction in retaliatory justice. Gabriel has suffered the loss of everything he held dear. He’ll ensure Joseph Carver suffers the same.
Now, taking out his phone, he dials a number committed to memory. When the call connects, he says, ‘She looks even more like you in the flesh.’
For a while he hears nothing but ravaged breathing.
‘Have you hurt her?’ Erin Carver whispers.
‘Not yet.’
‘We found blood.’
‘She’s a little banged up. Nothing a few painkillers won’t fix.’
‘What do you want?’
‘What I want is my brother. But I think we both know I can’t have that. So by way of recompense I want your husband. And I want you to deliver him to Thornecroft within the next hour.’
‘Gabriel,’ Erin says. ‘I know how badly you must be hurting, but—’
‘You have noidea!’ he screams. For a moment, his grief and his rage meld into something so hot he nearly surrenders to it.
Closing his eyes, he visualizes plum blossom falling over a slow-moving river. He imagines floating downstream among the petals, the water cool and cleansing. Gradually, his pounding heart slows.
‘Don’t talk,’ he says. ‘Just listen. You need to listen because you have a very serious decision to make, and not much timeto make it. I’m afraid you don’t get to walk out of this with your whole family intact. None of us do. But if you’re brave enough you can at least bring your daughter home.
‘Deliver Joseph to Thornecroft. I don’t care how you do it. Call me when you’re here and I’ll trade Tilly for your husband. You’re an intelligent woman, so you don’t need me to explain the consequences if you deviate even one degree from what I’ve asked.’
More tortured breathing. Then: ‘What about Max?’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s family.’
‘Not by blood, he isn’t. Why do you care?’
‘I just told you. Because he’s family.’
Even in the silence that follows, Gabriel can hear Erin Carver’s fear. He listens to it for a while. Then he ends the call.
Crossing Thornecroft’s grand entrance hall, he opens the door to the formal dining room. At the head of the table, secured by zip ties to a chair, sits Joseph Carver’s only son.
Their eyes meet.
‘If you—’ Max begins.
Gabriel closes the door and goes to Angus’s office. Tilly Carver is lying on a couch beside the window, her bandaged head supported by a cushion. He’d applied the dressing himself. No need to treat her discourteously until it’s time. She can’t go anywhere – not with her wrists and ankles bound.
‘How’re you feeling?’ he asks. ‘How’s your head?’
‘It hurts,’ she says, her voice small enough to thaw any heart that remained whole. ‘But not quite as much as it did.’
‘I’m sorry I had to do that. There was no malice in it.’
Tears gather in Tilly’s eyes. When she blinks, one of them breaks loose, taking a stuttering path down her cheek; Gabriel, to his surprise, finds himself supressing an urge to go to her, reassure her, blot the tear away.
‘I think I know what you want with us,’ she whispers.