Mark Billingham - From the Dead

Ellie shrugged. 'Not that it's any of your business, but I would have told Maggie and Julian eventually.' She spoke their names mockingly, like a bad comedian taking the piss. 'They'll survive, don't worry. They've got their precious Sam, anyway. I was always going to be second best once he came along.'

Now Thorne could see the extent to which this pretty, dark-haired teenager was dead inside. Cold and hard as stone. Sending the pictures had been only part of it. Not letting the Munros know she was alive and well had all been in the cause of torturing her mother, and she had been happy for Donna to believe that she was dead. Thorne watched her tuck her hair behind her ears and realised that, although Ellie Langford had inherited her mother's looks, all the things that defined her had come from her father.

Donna was staring at the floor, muttering.

'You'll have to speak up, love,' Langford said.

'You've no idea,' Donna said. She raised her head and looked at her daughter. Pleading. 'What it was like with him. The things he did, the things he made me do, the way he made me feel. What was I supposed to do?'

'God, here we go,' Langford said.

Donna lurched towards Ellie, and for a second panic replaced boredom on the girl's face. 'He did this,' Donna screamed. She reached out to show the flash of pink, puckered skin across the back of her hand. 'Look at what he did to me…'

Ellie had already recovered herself. She shrugged. 'That routine didn't work in court, so don't try it on me, OK?'

Donna let her arm drop and turned her head to stare across the pool. She looked hollowed out and hopeless.

Thorne took a step towards her. 'Come on now, Donna.'

She didn't move.

'Christ, she won't take a hint, will she?' The girl's voice was raised suddenly, shrill and contemptuous. 'It's not like I didn't make it clear enough when I spoke to her "girlfriend".' The distaste was obvious. 'I told her I never wanted to see the bitch again, that I'd happily let her die in prison. I told her I didn't even have a mother.'

There were a few seconds of silence then, save for the sound of the pool cleaner sucking its way across the bottom of the pool, ticking and slurping at the end of its long hose. Donna finally turned away from her daughter and began to walk slowly towards the sliding doors, listing slightly as though she were a little drunk.

'I need a drink,' she said. 'Some water…'

Thorne watched her disappear inside, sympathy fighting for space with guilt now that he finally understood what Kate had kept from her

… and why. It had been a small lie – a simple and tender not-telling – to protect the thing that Donna cherished more than anything else.

He knew better than most that love could cause as much damage and death as hate ever did.

'So, what do we do now?' Langford asked. 'You fancy a dip, Mr Thorne?'

Thorne said nothing. He would not rise to Langford's bait, and besides, he was too busy wondering if the people-smuggling charge might provide some sort of starting point. If there was anything he could feasibly nick the daughter for.

'I wonder where your mate Gary's got to,' Langford said. 'Still skulking around inside somewhere in case Donna sees him, I suppose. Not that it really matters much any more.' He watched Ellie as she calmly lay down on an adjacent sunbed, then pointed to his ears. 'Hear anything interesting, by the way?'

'Just bullshit and bravado,' Thorne said. 'The sound of someone running out of time.'

Langford lay back on his sunbed. 'Yeah, the pressure's terrible.' He reached for a paperback on a small table, then, almost as if he'd forgotten that Thorne was there at all, said, 'You can let yourself out.'

Thorne watched, feeling the hate bubble up and the blood beating in his veins. Then he saw Langford glance towards the doors and sit up suddenly. He heard Ellie say, 'Dad…?'

Donna walked calmly on to the deck, pointing a gun. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, and when she spoke her voice was flat and low, almost robotic. 'Old habits, eh, Alan? Always slept with one of these near the bed. Always thinking ahead.'

Langford climbed cautiously off the lounger and backed away, his arms held out towards her. Ellie stood up too and edged towards her father. Thorne stayed where he was.

'This is stupid, Donna,' he said. 'Give the gun to me.'

He could not be sure if she heard him, if whatever voice was guiding her was simply too loud. She held the gun out further, two hands trembling around the butt as she continued to point it at Langford.

'He's right, it's stupid,' Langford said. He stepped towards Ellie and, for a second, Thorne thought he was going to use his daughter as a shield. He could not help but wonder, as time seemed to stand still, which of them would be the greater loss to the gene pool. 'What's the point of this, Donna?'

'I'm giving Ellie what she wanted,' Donna said. 'She wanted me to spend the rest of my life in prison and this seems as good a way as any. The best way, as a matter of fact.'

'I didn't mean it,' Ellie shouted.

'She didn't mean any of it.' Langford took a tentative step towards his ex-wife. 'The photos were just a bit of fun, that's all, love. Just a joke, for Pete's sake.'

Donna nodded slowly, said, 'Not funny,' then shot Langford in the chest.

Time had caught up with itself and then sped ahead long before the ringing in Thorne's ears had died down. Ellie screamed and kept screaming as Donna lowered the gun. Langford took two paces back and dropped, first to one knee, then on to his back at the side of the pool. Thorne heard Samarez shouting, 'Armed police!' and 'Drop the gun!' and watched Donna do as she was told, her face as calm as the water in the pool while the weapon slipped from her hand and clattered on to the deck.

Just a pop…

Samarez, Boyle and Thorne all ran to Donna, while Ellie rushed towards Langford and dropped to her knees beside his head. He was still moving, rocking up on to his side before collapsing back again. As soon as Donna had been restrained, Samarez walked back into the living area and took out his phone.

'Is someone going to do something?' Ellie shouted.

Thorne could hear Samarez talking fast, calling an ambulance or doing something far more important, such as letting his wife know that he'd be late for dinner. Gary Brand was standing near the piano, saying, 'What the hell happened?' as Boyle started to lead Donna inside. She mumbled a thank-you and there was the suggestion of a smile as she passed Thorne, although she never looked up at him.

Ellie Langford lifted her father's head off the ground and on to her lap. She removed a sliver of green glass from his neck and pressed her fingers to the wound as blood began to bubble and pulse. Not as much as was pouring from his chest, though, already dark and shiny against the cream tiles and spreading towards the edge of the pool.

Thorne walked slowly across and while the girl screamed abuse at him and reached up to pull at his shirt, he leaned forward to watch the first drops of Alan Langford's blood slide over the edge, plop quietly into the water and start to sink.

Each one breaking up just a little as it went down.

And between the sobs and the groans and the shouting from somewhere inside, the sound of the pool cleaner, still ticking and slurping as it went about its business.

The swings were every bit as rusty and the goalposts still had no nets, but the small park in Seven Sisters now felt a little more like a place where someone might actually want to stroll or to sit for a while. The weather helped, of course. A spot of sunshine and a few clumps of daffodils always made things look better, no matter how much pain people were in.