EIGHTY-TWO
I checked the CD before I gave it to Detective McGuinness. He shot strange glances at Nathan, like he suspected more than either of us told him, but he didn't say it outright. Then he pulled out pictures of the bastards – all of them taken in what I recognised as my house. I identified the pictures as best I could, but this was one time the perpetual darkness was far from my friend. I'd never seen some of their faces – Simon included. I knew their voices and hands in the dark, but dead men had neither voices nor s****l preferences.
I looked long and hard at the police officer who'd shot Nathan, who he said had also shot at me. I hoped he was the son Simon had spoken of – and I hoped that Simon was here. I wondered if he was one of the people I'd seen earlier, but I hadn't reco
