All Fall Down: A gripping psychological thriller with a twist that will take your breath away (26 page)

T
he garden was lost
in the fog, and morbidly still. No birdsong, no traffic, just the constant trickle of water. The air was warm but with a chilly edge; Kyle could taste the moisture with every breath.

The light had a soft ivory sheen to it, as though the sun might have broken through the clouds, far above them. But he could barely make out the boundaries of the property; just vague shadows and shapes that resembled trees and hedges. It was now almost one in the afternoon. If the fog was going to lift, it probably would have done so by now.

That might count in their favour. There were unlikely to be many people on the coast or out at sea in this weather. Kyle was eager to dump Gabriel’s body, and entertained fantasies about watching the rest of the Brood follow their leader over the side.

Couldn’t do that until the Turners had been dealt with, one way or the other.

That was where Gabriel had got it wrong, he thought. People had been predicting the end of the world for millennia. Every generation felt that
they
happened to live in the most dangerous era in human history; and yet, day after day, year after year, the world kept turning. Societies wobbled and shook, but stayed intact – so why wait for the end times to pursue a ruthlessly selfish agenda?

Kyle preferred to put the skills he’d learned to good use right now, and he liked to think that Gabriel would be proud, in a way, of what he had already achieved. The pupil learns from the master, and one day surpasses him. It was a time-honoured story and yet Gabriel, for all his great power and insight, hadn’t appeared to see it coming.

He ran a hand through his hair and it came away damp. He imagined the scruffy curls laden with droplets, like dewy grass. It was wonderful to think that soon he could clean himself properly for the first time in years. He’d deliberately neglected his personal hygiene as a way of lowering his status, because people who smell aren’t perceived as a threat. They’re assumed to be stupid, ignorant, lazy.

Kyle had spent a lot of time weighing up his fellow disciples, mulling over their strengths and weaknesses. Ilsa remained the greatest threat, though she at least should be astute enough to appreciate that he held all the cards. She’d joined the Brood with a track record of political activism, having dabbled with the anarchist movement after years of involvement with a group of animal rights protestors, and often hinted at the serious crimes she’d committed.

Compared to her, the other two were soft and stupid. Milo’s background was similar to Gabriel’s: a privileged upbringing in the Surrey commuter belt, an overbearing father and a record of disruptive behaviour that saw him expelled from several private schools. Lara was the troubled daughter of a wannabe actress and
It
girl, her father a music business executive with illegitimate offspring in every corner of the world. She’d made some money as a child model, only to develop a crippling cocaine habit by the age of fourteen. In one of Gabriel’s interminable group meetings, she’d admitted to losing her virginity at eleven – and claimed to have loved the experience.
What more did you need to know?
he thought.

But when they understood the full extent to which Kyle had deceived them, they would be baying for his blood. By then, he hoped, it would be too late for them.

As for the family, well, Rob had one more chance.

If he didn’t take it, Kyle thought sadly, then everyone inside the house would have to die.

G
eorgia couldn’t believe
her luck when Milo scurried out after Ilsa, locking the door behind him. Not only had he left her alone, but he hadn’t noticed she was hiding something.

There seemed to be a different vibe today; both Milo and Ilsa had looked jumpy, on edge. It got her wondering what had happened during the night, but she quickly shut those thoughts down. Didn’t want to go there.

Once the house had gone quiet, she transferred the screw to her left hand and turned on to her stomach, putting up with the pain in her wrist while she examined the handcuffs. They looked quite cheaply made, in which case the lock shouldn’t be too complicated, should it?

The screw was about two inches long and quite thin – she thought it would fit into the lock, and it did.
Result
.

Georgia watched a lot of TV; in her favourite crime dramas the hero only had to jiggle around with a bit of metal, and a couple of seconds later the lock would pop open.

Not in real life, of course, and it didn’t help that the best position to work on it meant a lot of pressure on her right arm and wrist, a lot of pain. After a few tries, with little breaks to rest, she realised that she had to do it ultra slowly, really
feel
the inside of the lock, mapping it out with tiny movements, tapping and pushing until something—

Suddenly, with a beautiful, satisfying click, the two half-circles broke apart, revealing an ugly red welt beneath the smears of blood on her wrist.

Half disbelieving, Georgia eased her hand out and knelt on the bed, looking around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

Holy shit.

She was out of the handcuffs.

Now she had to get out of the bedroom.

B
ack indoors
, Kyle was amused to find that Lara had made him a sandwich, evidently deciding it was prudent to stay on his good side. Maybe later he’d find out what else she was willing to do for him.

But now it was time. He arranged for Rob to be escorted back to the bedroom where the family had spent the night.

‘Should I look in on Georgia?’ Milo asked. ‘Just to check—’

‘No,’ Kyle barked. ‘Go downstairs.’

He wanted Milo gone. Wanted a moment to find some clarity. It was in his hands to save or destroy, and now he had to decide which it should be.

Both. Both at the same time. But that was impossible. . .

Rob was sitting on the floor, looking tense but not particularly uncomfortable or afraid. Kyle sat down on the bed, resting the gun in his lap, and said, ‘Well?’

‘The safe is set into the bathroom floor, beneath one of the tiles. It’s got about three thousand in cash, along with some jewellery worth another couple of grand. I have a few investments, which I can sign over to you, but not until Wendy and the—’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know.’ Kyle made a dismissive gesture. ‘Tell me about this boat.’

‘Boat? What boat?’

‘We know you have one. I need it to dispose of a body.’

Rob blanched. ‘And you think I’m going to help—’

‘It’s
Gabriel
’s body.’

That had the desired effect: Rob gaped at him, lost for words.

Kyle said, ‘Lara found him this morning. Heart attack in his sleep – at least that’s what it looks like. So now there’s a lot of confusion, as you can imagine. Different opinions on the best course of action.’

He paused, but Rob only gave a quick, cautious nod for Kyle to go on.

‘Ilsa, for instance, is pushing for a wipeout – quick and simple executions – before we loot the place and get out of here. I’m afraid it won’t take much for Milo and Lara to agree, which is why, for your sake, I’m trying to come up with an alternative.’

‘And why would you do that?’

Kyle regarded him coolly; he’d steered the conversation in this direction for a reason, but now that the moment had come, he felt extremely nervous.

He dealt with it by stoking up some resentment. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’

‘Get what?’ Rob looked at him with contempt. ‘And what did you mean earlier, asking whether I recognised you? We’ve never met, you said it yourself.’

‘I was referring to a family resemblance.’

Silence – then Rob spluttered with laughter. Not the reaction Kyle had anticipated, all the many times he’d pictured this moment.

‘Say that again?’

‘A family resemblance.’ Kyle’s voice was an octave too high, and he had to press his hands down hard on his legs to stop them from shaking. ‘Because I’m your son.’

I
nsanity
.
That was Rob’s first and only thought.
This is pure insanity.

But Kyle wasn’t just a very sick and deluded individual. He was a man with a gun, and right now he held the power of life or death over Rob and his family.

That was a very good reason to stay calm, and at least pretend to consider the merits of his claim. Whether Rob could manage it, he didn’t know.

He was silent for so long that Kyle finally said, ‘It’s a shock, I understand.’

‘I can’t. . . I mean, what makes you. . .?’

‘Julie Jacques. She was about twenty, twenty-one. Lived in Chichester. She said you went out a few times, but you were seeing someone else as well, or separated, maybe. . .’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not totally sure, and I don’t think she was, either.’

‘Julie. . . Jacques?’ Rob had one of those moments when a name sounds familiar, simply because the other person expects it to be. ‘When was this?’

‘Summer of 1993.’ Kyle gave a tight little grin. ‘I was born in March ’94.’

‘Summer of ’93,’ Rob muttered. That was the year he and Wendy had split for a few months, after the pressure of trying to conceive had fractured the marriage. Rob had gone out with a couple of women in that time; brief, casual relationships which he had regretted almost immediately, and perhaps blanked from his memory as a result.

He was no lothario, had never really slept around. This had been the era of AIDS, after all – and if you had sex outside of a long-term relationship, condoms were regarded as essential. A lifesaver.

With Kyle bristling at his silence, Rob said, ‘Is this what your mum told you?’

‘Rob Turner. She remembered your name, even if you’ve forgotten hers.’

His ghastly smile gave Rob an insight:
He’s scared. This, for him, is more nerve-wracking than when he was committing cold-blooded torture.

‘I don’t want to suggest that’s wrong, but perhaps I knew her some other way? Friend of a friend, or maybe I chatted her up in a pub and nothing came of it.’ Rob shrugged. ‘If she thought I was the father, why didn’t she get in touch when she found out she was pregnant?’

‘She said she had her reasons. Another relationship, or something.’

He sounded evasive, and Rob guessed why. If his mother had had more than one partner around the same time, then that created doubt. In normal circumstances, this would be the moment to suggest a DNA test, but right now the very idea of giving credence to the claim was revolting.

‘So you joined up to Gabriel’s cult,’ Rob said quietly. ‘You abducted and tortured an innocent man, and when he was heading in our direction, you did nothing to stop him?’

‘It was too late. I wanted to help, but I was scared.’

‘No, I don’t buy that. The guy didn’t just randomly head for the house belonging to a man you claim is your father. You sent him that way on purpose.’

‘No. No, I—’

‘Yes, you did.’ Rob saw the truth in his face, in the way that he squirmed. ‘It was you who persuaded Gabriel to make us the next target. You’ve been an active part of this whole thing. Sneaking into our house – you were boasting about that yesterday. You tried to set us up, hiding the dead man’s trainer, so don’t give me any crap about being on our side.’

‘But I am.’ It came out as a childish whine. Kyle dropped his gaze, snuffling as he fought back self-righteous tears. ‘I admit I did a lot that was wrong. I was so angry. For years I blamed you for my shitty life, my shitty stepdad in Canada – even when I didn’t know who you were. Then, when I came back to the UK and saw the life you’d given your other kids. . .’ He wiped his eyes. ‘I wanted you to be punished.’

Somehow, Rob stayed calm. ‘No son of mine would do what you’ve done to us.’

Suddenly enraged, Kyle jumped to his feet. ‘Oh yeah? We’re a product of our environment, not just our DNA. Who knows how the twins might have turned out living somewhere else, being treated differently? Look at Josh, for instance – he’s not whiter than white – and as for Georgia.’ He spat the words. ‘She’s trailer trash, yet you took her in, gave her a far better life than I’d ever had—’

‘Because you didn’t exist, as far as I was concerned. And you still don’t.’

Kyle waved the gun in Rob’s face and yelled: ‘What the
fuck
do you mean by that?’

Rob was shaken; push it too far and he might well die right now. But Kyle’s temper had ignited his own, and he wasn’t going to be silenced.

‘I think you or your mum has made a mistake. I don’t believe you’re my son, and if by some terrible twist of fate you are, then I’m disowning you, right here and now, for the crimes you’ve committed against my family.’ Rob heard Kyle groan, as if he’d been physically assaulted, but he pressed on: ‘And if you really are in charge here, your best bet would be to round up the others and get the hell out of this house.’

K
ill him
. It’s all gone wrong. Just shoot him. End it.

Kyle listened to the voice in his head, while the gun turned hot and slippery in the sweat of his palm.
Save or destroy
, the twin impulses that always raged when he thought about his real father, his real family, and still he had no idea which one to favour. Whenever he’d rehearsed this conversation in his mind, Rob had invariably accepted the truth – not always readily, for sure – but Kyle had never imagined him just flat out denying it.

Or rejecting Kyle,
even if it was true
.

Could it be a mistake? He didn’t want to be reminded of his mother’s vagueness on the subject of her sexual past, or the fact that over the years she’d thrown out several names as possible contenders: Kyle had ignored that and listened to his gut instinct. He’d been so convinced that Rob was his dad – he even thought there was some similarity in their features, and in Josh and Evan’s, but what did that mean, really? Lots of people look alike.

‘I-I was brainwashed,’ he said, his voice trembling. ‘We all were. You saw what Gabriel was like. I couldn’t stop him. I admit that I put you in his sights, and that was wrong. But I had this. . . this idea that if you were all in danger, and then I came along and saved you. . .’

‘Yeah.’ Rob wasn’t buying a word of it. ‘But you haven’t saved us. You’re pointing a gun at me right now—’

‘I killed Gabriel,’ Kyle snapped.

‘You. . .’ Rob looked incredulous.

‘With poison. I realised it had gone too far, but I couldn’t do anything until now. Without me, you’d all be looking at day after day of torture. I’ve saved you from that.’

‘Okay. So let us loose, and call 999.’

‘I can’t.’

‘Exactly. Because it’s not true. If you have even a scrap of real humanity, you’d do what I said. Round up your collaborators at gunpoint and call the police.’

‘You. . . you keep. . .’ Kyle could barely speak. It was some kind of miracle that he didn’t open fire right then. ‘I offered you a lifeline,’ he said. ‘But you don’t want it. Is that because of the guilt – you failed to protect your family? Or is it the shame? Can’t have darling Wendy knowing all your dirty little secrets?’ He saw Rob’s face change and that was the breakthrough – that was the lightbulb moment for him.

Wendy.

G
eorgia was more scared now
than when she’d been cuffed to the bed. Every noise within the house made her want to curl up and cry; it was the thought of the door opening, and one of them finding her like this. . .

But that was stupid. And it wasn’t even the real reason.

Getting dressed helped a bit. Made her feel more like herself, more in control.

The window, though. If she was honest, that was the real issue. There was no hope of sneaking past Milo and the others; the only option was to escape through the window – only she’d done that once before, and the thought of doing it again. . .

The other problem was that not only had they locked the window, they’d also nailed the sash to the frame. Some of the nails were protruding, but after what she’d gone through already, she didn’t think she could work them free. Her hands were too sore, too weak.

And she needed a weapon. The only furniture in the room was a wardrobe, and at first glance it was empty. She was shutting the door when her brain lit up like a warning light:
Take another look
.

It was empty of clothes, yes, but there were about a dozen hangers, all mismatched from years of visitors taking and leaving different ones each time. Most were plastic, but a couple were wooden, and there was a single one made from wire.

A noise from the landing sent her scurrying back to the bed. As she lay there, terrified, she realised she might be able to fool them. Lie back and put the cuff around her wrist – the fact that she was now dressed might confuse them for a second or two, and she could dodge past them and run out. . .

Nice idea, but no one came in. That had to be Plan B, she decided. In the meantime, back to Plan A.

But I don’t want to go out the window, I don’t—

‘Shut up,’ she whispered to herself. It was different this time. She wasn’t being chased. She could do it slowly, carefully.

Back to the window, then. She decided it might be possible to work the metal hanger into the gap at the bottom of the frame. Push it back and forth, and maybe the sash would come loose. Had to be worth a try, but if it didn’t work she’d have to smash the window and jump.

I can’t jump I can’t I can’t—

‘I have to,’ she said. But it couldn’t be done slowly. Once she’d broken the glass, the noise would bring them all running.

She had just moved to the window when she heard shouting – Kyle’s voice, and then her dad’s. She froze, listening hard but unable to make out what they were saying.

Then the voices faded away, and Georgia knew she had to get on with it. She picked up the hanger, the dread clawing at her heart. Either she was going to run out of time and get caught. . . or she was going to succeed and have to do it: jump out of the window.

Both options seemed equally terrifying.