All Fall Down: A gripping psychological thriller with a twist that will take your breath away Read Free

and Evan, Rob joined Wendy in the kitchen. ‘Okay?’ he asked.
    She shook her head. Her jaw was tight, a muscle twitching in her cheek. For a moment Rob interpreted it as anger, but then she threw her arms around him and let out a sob.
    ‘The state he was in, Rob. The cruelty of what was done to him. . .’
    ‘I know.’ He hesitated for a moment before holding her tight. ‘I’ll make tea. You go and sit with the others.’
    ‘No, I’d rather keep busy.’ She eased herself away from him, tore off a sheet of kitchen roll and blew her nose. ‘That’s a good point, about the music.’
    ‘It’s the only thing I can think of.’ He turned quickly to the window. PC Clark was at the gate, gazing out over the common. ‘Interesting that he asked us both to describe what happened.’
    ‘I suppose he had to.’ Wendy put a couple of coffee mugs on the unit and then paused. ‘But we don’t have anything to hide, do we?’
    Rob spun to face her, unsure if that was an allegation. ‘What you said about the blood on his face – it sounded like you were contradicting me.’
    ‘Not really. Anyway, your tone was getting a bit aggressive.’
    ‘Because he was glaring at me like I’m the prime suspect.’
    Wendy exhaled loudly. ‘Look at it from his point of view. He responds to a call about a badly injured man in our garden. We say it’s nothing to do with us, and he’s, what, just supposed to accept it?’ She mimed tugging a forelock. ‘ Right you are then, sir, I’ll be on my way . . .’
    The bad Cockney accent made him grin, which helped defuse the tension. She was right, of course. The police would naturally consider the possibility that the householders were responsible for the attack – and it probably hadn’t helped that Clark’s first sight of Rob had been when he’d returned from the common, red-faced and sweating.
    He fetched the milk and handed it over as a kind of peace offering, but was thrown by her next question. ‘Do you think it’s worth calling Dawn?’
    ‘And ruin her Sunday evening? That’s not fair.’
    ‘No, all right, then. I just thought – if they are suspicious of us – she might put in a word on our behalf.’
    Rob thought this a foolish idea, but he answered with a shrug. To be in the clear, what they really needed was for the police to identify whoever had tortured that man half to death.
    But what if the answer caused more problems than it solved?

    E van and Livvy accepted coffees , and even Georgia agreed to have a hot chocolate. They’d put a DVD on, some kind of slushy romantic comedy to lighten the mood.
    Outside, PC Clark was mooching along the flower beds, and eagerly changed course to collect his tea. No sooner had he taken a sip than his radio bleeped.
    With a look of weary resignation, he retreated across the lawn to speak in private. Rob and Wendy tried not to show an interest as he listened, made a couple of muttered comments, then lowered the radio and turned back to the terrace.
    ‘Cardiac arrest en route to the hospital. Never regained consciousness.’ He tutted, perhaps because his afternoon had become a lot more complicated. ‘Potentially, this is a murder enquiry now.’

Five
    B y six o’clock Russell Drive was jammed with vehicles, most of them bearing the livery of Hampshire Constabulary. It was one of those summer evenings that feels cooler indoors than out, prompting Wendy to fetch a cardigan.
    ‘I think I’ve seen Dawn’s car,’ she called from the stairs. ‘Did you contact her?’
    ‘Not me, no.’ Rob tried not to scowl when, a moment later, the doorbell rang.
    Detective Sergeant Dawn Avery was on the step, wearing black leggings and a white t-shirt; still slim, but unmistakably pregnant. Rob greeted her with a brief, careful hug after she and Wendy had shared a longer embrace.
    ‘Lovely to see you,’ Wendy exclaimed. ‘How many weeks is it now?’
    ‘Twenty-eight.’ Dawn rested a hand on her belly. ‘This is supposed to be the