Dead Girls: An addictive and darkly funny crime thriller. Graeme Cameron

right? If she’d been treated anywhere?’

      I shrugged at his optimism. He knew as well as I did that it was a lottery; that whatever name she gave at a casualty desk would only lead us on a wild goose chase.

      I couldn’t know what Kevin was thinking, of course, but in my mind, his words had triggered a vision, or perhaps a memory; I wasn’t sure which. I saw Erica, a gun in her hand – not a replica, not an airgun or a starter pistol, but a functioning firearm, which I’d seen her discharge, seen the spray of blood from That Man’s arm, seen her turn it on me, the barrel a black, hungry tunnel, all-consuming, with no light at its end. I saw her above me as I lay on the ground, my hand around her throat, hers clawed and desperate, nails breaking the skin of my cheek. I saw That Man pull her away, and I saw her look down at me and aim the gun again, not at my face this time but a little away, somewhere to the side of me, her eyes frightened and hurt and filled with a knowledge she was too young, too naive, too human to have to bear. She spoke, though I couldn’t make sense of the words. They were just a jumble; too many for an apology, too few for an explanation. I couldn’t remember, and it hurt to try.

      And then I saw her climb into the van and turn the key and drive away, over the field and into the forest, although I may have been imagining that part, just as I was imagining her now, falling from this smoking, gushing wreck, clutching herself tightly, her legs folding beneath her. I saw her force herself to her feet, clawing at the van for a hold to pull herself up, a sheen of blood sliding like a visor down over her forehead, over her eyes. I heard her cry out, saw her swipe at her face with her sleeve. I saw her double over and sway and throw up between her feet. And then the sound of engines, and the bark of a dog, and the rattle and hum of rotor blades, and I saw her running, hunched and unsteady, willing her legs to work. I saw her plunge into the river, sobbing in lungfuls of air, thrashing her way through the water until she could crawl, thigh-deep in mud, onto the opposite bank. I felt the adrenaline coursing through her, the urgent noise of her pursuers filling her ears, and I shouted at her to run, Erica, as fast as you can, just run sweetheart and don’t look back!

      ‘Ali? You all right mate?’

      I realised my leg was shaking and my eyes stung like hell, and then I saw the worried look on Kevin’s face and away they went, spilling fat tears down my cheeks before I could stop them. I pretended not to notice. ‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘Why, what’s up?’

      I could see he didn’t know what to say. His hands fidgeted awkwardly at his sides and his mouth flapped open and shut, and for a moment I thought he was going to try to hug me again. If I’m honest, and a little bit cruel, I quite enjoyed watching him flounder, though had he actually tried to hug me, I probably would have let him. But he didn’t, which was equally fine, and so I forced a bemused expression and said, ‘Are you all right?’

      ‘I . . .’

       Come on, McManus, you can do it.

      ‘Yeah,’ he shrugged. ‘Just . . .’ He glanced over his shoulder, pointedly. ‘You know, that was a bit loud.’ He nodded backwards in the direction of the office door and, beyond it, Paul.

      My heart sank, though I made the best attempt I could at keeping the horror from my face. How much had I said out loud? And why did I not know the answer to that?

      As frustrating as the holes in my memory were, my brain noted that moment as the first in which I was truly afraid of it. And now it was my turn to not know what to say, although however freaked out and confused I was all of a sudden, I was damned if I was going to show it, or stand there and say nothing at all, so I shook my head and brazened it out and said, ‘I didn’t hear anything.’

      ‘You were shouting ab—’

      ‘I didn’t hear anything,’ I repeated, fixing him with an unblinking stare that probably made me look like a fucking lunatic, on top of sounding like one. ‘You’re mistaken.’