“Why would I do that?” Frankie kicked Andrew again, this time in the side of the head, sending him dizzy. “If I kill the three of you, who’s going to say I did anything?”
“The police already have…Andrew’s…statements,” said Dalton in a half-conscious drawl. We know all about you, Francis Walker.”
Frankie was clearly unhappy at the news, but it wasn’t enough to deter him. “Well, it still wouldn’t do any harm getting rid of the witnesses, would it?” He placed himself down on Bex’s bed and she squirmed as he started to stroke her face. “Shall I leave you for last, princess? Let you watch all the fun before I put your lights out too?”
“Please,” she sobbed. “Just go. Me and my dad won’t say anything.”
Frankie laughed. “Seriously? You’re going to go with that old chestnut? It doesn’t work in the moves and I can tell you right now that it doesn’t work in real life either, sweetheart.”
“Get away from her, you evil bastard.”
Frankie looked down at Andrew across the room and laughed. “Or else what, you sad cripple? You couldn’t take me with both legs, so what use are you now?” Frankie put a finger in his mouth and sucked it before holding it in the air. Andrew was forced to watch while he delved it beneath his daughter’s blankets.
Bex struggled and squirmed while Frankie cackled almost uncontrollably. His laughter stopped when Rebecca struck his face with her hand. The slapping sound filled the room and was then followed by absolute silence.
Frankie got up off the bed and yelled “Slag!” at her. Then he lunged forward and punched her in the face. It wasn’t hard enough to knock her out cold, but it seemed to rattle her senses loose, eyes rolling about in her head.
Andrew couldn’t help but curse at Frankie, despite the fact it could lead to another gunshot or more brutality. His hatred was too much to contain. “You pathetic little bully. Taking things out on a helpless girl, all because you got passed around a kid’s jail like the TV remote. I bet you’ve got an arsehole like a clown’s pocket.”
Frankie pointed the gun at Andrew again. It was obvious that his comments were on the money. The words were getting through to him. This time, though, Frankie’s reaction was calmer. He lowered the gun away from Andrew.
Then pointed it at Bex.
And fired.
Chapter Thirty-One
Davie got off the bus at the stop nearest the hospital. It was only across the road and in less than a minute he was walking through the car park and heading for the main building. He didn’t know exactly where inside he would find Andrew or Frankie, but he knew that asking a member of staff would probably be a bad idea. When he saw the crowd gathering outside the hospital’s main entrance, accompanied by a shrill, ringing alarm, Davie knew that finding his brother might possibly be easier than he imagined. Something had happened inside the hospital and it would be a pretty safe bet that Frankie would be involved somehow.
There were hospital employees all over the road comforting patients on gurneys. There were also several police officers standing around grumpily. Davie would have to avoid them all if he had any chance of getting inside the hospital.
He stepped behind a row of cars and made his way forward in a crouch. There didn’t seem any possible way to make it through the main entrance without someone stopping him, and there was no other obvious way in. Perhaps there were rear entrances.
Davie snuck around the back of an ambulance and headed down one side of the hospital. There was a power generator inside a brick enclosure around the corner and, beyond that, a wall lined by many square windows. Even further ahead was something that was just what Davie needed: an open fire exit. Only trouble was a hospital employee standing there in a chef’s uniform, puffing a cigarette as though the ringing alarms were of no concern to him.