Andrew knelt beside the girl as she lay propped up against a gnarled oak tree. She was an unconscious mess. While she’d been sleeping, Andrew had used the scissors he had borrowed from Damien to completely remove her hair, humiliating her in the same way she and her friends had done to Pen. It still wasn’t sufficient punishment for what she’d done, but Andrew hoped it was enough to teach her a lesson; something she couldn’t just laugh off.
He slapped at her cheeks to wake her, harder than he needed to because the act itself felt so satisfying. After half a dozen blows, it worked. Her eyelids fluttered and her eyeballs rolled forwards from the back of her head. She looked content, like coming out of a pleasant dream, but then her consciousness returned to reality and she saw Andrew leaning over her. She panicked.
“Help me! Please, somebody!”
Andrew slapped her face again, harder than he had done to wake her. Instantly she stopped screaming. “Shut up, girl! I won’t hurt you if you tell me what I want.”
Michelle’s eyes were round and white like a frightened animal. Her words came out hurried and short of breath. “Tell you…what?”
Andrew leant closer to her, their noses almost touching. “Where’s Frankie?”
“I…I don’t know.”
Andrew pulled the knife from his belt and held it to her face, pressing it into the fatty flesh beneath her left eye. “Don’t make me ask you again, you little harlot.”
“Please…please…I really don’t know. Damien said Frankie left his place a few hours ago, before I even got there. Frankie doesn’t even know I was with Damien.”
Andrew huffed. “You really are a piece of work, aren’t you?”
“Please don’t tell him.”
Andrew couldn’t believe it. The girl’s level of self-involvement was astounding. “Do you think I give a damn about your love life? You can screw half of Worcestershire for all I care. I just want Frankie. Besides I don’t think he’d like you now that you’ve cut your hair.”
Michelle instantly slapped both hands to her head and squealed when she felt nothing but scalp and random thickets of hair. But before she had time to lose herself to hysteria, Andrew slapped her again. He didn’t have time for her self-pity.
“Tell me where Frankie is, or you’ll lose more than just your hair.”
“I-I don’t know where he is!” Michelle was pleading now and, regrettably, Andrew was inclined to believe her. He was confident that he’d rattled her enough that she wouldn’t dare lie to him; she wasn’t brave enough to. She had no idea where Frankie was.
Andrew removed the knife from beneath her eye, dragging it downwards so that it bit slightly at her flesh. He ignored her flinches of pain and asked his next questions. “Okay. Just tell me where you think he would go. Home, maybe?”
Michelle laughed. “That’s the last place you’ll find him. He’s never there if he can help it. I know where you can find Dom, though.”
Andrew took a breath in and held it. He hadn’t thought as much about the rest of Frankie’s crew, but they were due just as much punishment as he was. Andrew had already dealt with Jordan, so why not pay his brother a visit too? At the very least there was a good chance that Dom could lead him closer to Frankie.
“Okay,” said Andrew. “Tell me where to find Dom.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Davie stood at his front door not wanting to go in. The thought of facing his mother after the previous night’s events was more than he could handle. There would be lectures, about staying out at all hours, just waiting for him. It was the very least of what he deserved, but his soul felt so brittle right now that the slightest knock could shatter him like a pane of glass. He needed sleep and nothing else.
Davie turned the handle. The door was not locked because his mother never left the house. As long as she had beer – and sons to fetch it for her – then there was no reason to ever face the outside world. He stepped inside and the smell of that very same beer filled his nostrils.
His mother heard the door open and shouted out from the living room. “Davie, is that you? Get in here, now!”