Chapter 57
The bath towels over Hana’s son were decorated in wood shards and chunks of plasterboard. But the tent held its shape and he was safe. He gave a frightened wail which galvanised his mother and she set her body rigidly and turned to greet her killer.
Alfred’s terrified eyes glinted at her from his position in the doorway, with only his head poking through. He hadn’t come empty handed and the gun in his hand matched Hana’s like a twin. They stared at each other for a long moment and then Alfred knitted his brow and handed the gun behind him. “Hana?” he said cautiously, venturing further into the room. His boots stuck to the blood on the tiled surface, making the sound of a child pulling off wrongly stuck stickers and reattaching them. Stick, rip, stick. He leaned down and picked
