Then She Was Gone Read Free Page B

car, but he was opening the door and getting in before he realised he’d started moving. Other people headed towards the house,
wearing white overalls and carrying shovels. The male detective sat in the back next to him. The car pulled away, Tim looked back at the darkened house and he began to shake uncontrollably. He
could feel the man’s eyes on him.
    He whispered to himself for almost the entire journey back to Liverpool.
    ‘Please let her be OK. Please let her be OK. Please let her be . . .’

PART ONE

PRESENT DAY

An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind.
    Mahatma Gandhi
    I’m a fighter. I believe in the eye-for-an-eye business. I’m no cheek turner. I got no respect for a man who won’t hit back. You kill my dog,
you better hide your cat.
    Muhammad Ali
    While seeking revenge, dig two graves – one for yourself.
    Douglas Horton

You
    You’re consumed with hate.
    You think of nothing but desolation and the absolute need to devastate. To destroy. To satiate yourself in vengeance.
    You have lived your life in moments of desperation. Each day passing in a blur of perceived normality. Now is your chance to be something more.
    You plan. You want it to be perfect. There isn’t anything you haven’t foreseen and countered for. You cannot be stopped. Nothing will stand in your way.
    They must pay for what they have done.
    You want the violence. You feel it in every fibre of your body. The desire, the craving. You need to make things right. You need to redress the balance.
    You don’t see them as victims. You know others will, but that does not matter. You know the truth. You know the public will care little, instead waiting for the next instalment. A reality
show to end them all. A true fight to the death, beamed into every living room. No one cares about the so-called victims. They just want the next part to begin.
    They’re just like you. They love to watch and vicariously experience the thrill of violence and suffering. You know it to be true.
    You want the world to die a slow, painful death.
    You want to be there to watch it die.
    There are faces you see every night, lying in the dark waiting for sleep to consume you. Appearing in your mind without invitation. Making your skin crawl, your stomach churn and hands shake.
You feel anger, you feel afraid. You want those faces to disappear.
    You want silence. You want to switch off that part of your brain which keeps bringing them back.
    Instead of living in a constant state of terror, you decide to do something about it. To switch off those voices and make those faces evaporate. You have plans, you are in control. You know what
to do. You have right on your side, you have the tools and the desire to do what is necessary.
    You want retribution for what happened.
    You want revenge.

One
    There was a time when the issue of getting older hadn’t bothered him so much. He remembered that time with a fading clarity. Now it needled him, occupying his thoughts
without reason. Another year about to come to an end – the onward march towards the magical age of forty.
    Aging was becoming wearisome.
    Detective Inspector David Murphy looked out across the River Mersey, leaning forwards against the promenade railings. He glanced down at his hands gripping the metal, his knuckles white and
scarred, then stared back out across the water. He could see the ferry making its approach towards home in an early afternoon gloom. Darkened clouds were moving above him, moody and plentiful,
casting the water below him with a grey shadow. The view across the river was a direct contrast to the one he would experience from the other side of the water: fewer iconic buildings, less
industry and none of the bustle of modern life.
    Murphy turned and gazed up at the Port of Liverpool building directly in front of him. Its more famous sibling – the Royal Liver building – sitting next to it, the mythical Liver
Birds perched atop, looking out over the same view as him.