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“Perhaps,” Kelvin replied, looking at the floor.

“You could keep in contact with me,” Michael continued. He headed over to the radio on the small side table and detachedsomething small and black from it, holding it up to Kelvin. “It has a full eight hours of charge. I can just turn it on if I have anything that I need to report.”

“What if I need to contact you?”

“We can agree on set times,” Michael suggested. There was something in his voice that reminded Steph of a teenage boy trying to persuade their parents of something. There seemed to be an overly convenient answer to everything despite the obvious perils that appeared to be wrapping themselves tighter around the situation.

Again, Kelvin said nothing, instead looking up at the ceiling. There was a part of Steph hoping that Kelvin would agree to it so that she would be alone to question him. However, her gut suggested that going with Michael – even in the face of logic – was what she needed to do. Besides, she doubted she’d get much from Kelvin. After eating and getting four walls around him, he seemed to have regained his composure and was very much the boss again – in his eyes.

“I suppose Michael could check on Martina,” Steph said, risking putting a hand on Kelvin’s shoulder as she came to sit down beside him once more. It was an awkward hand. She was not the most accomplished person when it came to displays of care or affection. Then again, from the twitch in Kelvin’s shoulder, he was not the best at receiving them. “I could even go with him.”

Kelvin turned to face Steph. “But it’s not safe!”

“Was it ever safe out there?”

“True, but what is in it for you?”

Kelvin’s bluntness took Steph back for a moment. Not only because of the question but also because of the lack of an answer she had for it.

“Nothing is in it for me apart from sorting things out, but two pairs of eyes will be better than one,” Steph replied, lookingat Michael who narrowed his eyes slightly. She turned back to Kelvin.

“I suppose, in theory, it would be safer,” he replied thoughtfully. “Although shouldn’t you wait until tomorrow? It’s only going to get darker and waiting will allow for the storm to let up.”

“The weather might play to our advantage if anything,” Michael said. “Heavy rain and thunder will mask the sound of us moving.”

“And what about the wolves we heard earlier?”

“Probably moved on by now,” Michael replied, although he didn’t sound wholly convincing.

“Fine.”

“Right then,” Steph said, turning to Michael. Michael gave a small shrug and then went to raid Thomas’s fridge.

THIRTY-TWO

It was agreed that they should check in with Kelvin on the hour every hour unless there was a good reason not to. Kelvin was not to contact them to avoid any noise at an inconvenient time, or so Michael said. In reality, Steph could not see why Kelvin would need to have them check in every hour. It was not as if he could do anything for them if they were in trouble; it was all about control again.

Steph wiped the rain from her face as she followed Michael. Michael walked a few paces ahead using a long, sharpened stick as a staff – he had taken a carving knife from the kitchen to fashion the spear. The knife he kept tied to his waist having tied numerous socks around the blade to prevent accidents. The thing looked bizarre, but Steph understood the precaution. She thought about the knife around her lower leg, still there from when Davey had given it to her.

“You needn’t have come,” Michael called back over his shoulder, continuing to shine his torch close to the ground.

Steph didn’t answer and they continued walking. The ground was sodden. In places, Steph would find her feet sinking an inch or two into the ground. Why anyone would want to be out in this weather was beyond her. In the beam of Michael’s torch, Steph could see evidence of deer tracks. They really did get about the place; probably constantly shepherded from one potential predator to another.

“So what’s your plan when you get to the house?” Steph asked after a few minutes, jogging to pull up alongside Michael.

Michael acknowledged her and said, “Find out what has gone on in the house – check on the whereabouts of Calum, Roger and Martina – go and get the damned lion.”

“By yourself?”

“By myself. It works better that way. Things only seem to go wrong when other people are involved.” Michael let out a forced laugh. The tone was wrong. Steph couldn’t put her finger on it exactly, but it was not a genuine laugh. It didn’t sound like a genuinely sarcastic laugh, nor a particularly annoyed laugh. It was a masking laugh. But masking what?

“Fair enough,” Steph replied. She wondered what her own plan was exactly. Go with the flow? It was more of a torrent. She was also aware of how little the police featured in her concerns. It was funny. Twenty-four hours previously, she had been adamant they should be contacted, but now she didn’t care. If anything, they should probably stay away for the time being, but surely after things were brought under control, they would have one hell of a mess to look at. A lot of unforeseen paperwork for some poor bugger. Steph suddenly laughed to herself.

“What’s funny?” Michael asked.

“Nothing… just that it’s odd, isn’t it? That we always assume we can be in control and that control is just around the corner with the next decision.”

“What do you mean? Why’s that funny?”