DARK HOUSES a gripping detective thriller full of suspense by Helen H. Durrant Page A

She’d said he was a bully.
    “Liar. You’ve got something on. Come on, Naff. Tell Dan what’s going down.”
    He hated that name: Naff Neville. It’d been his nickname ever since school. Who calls their kid Neville, for fuck’s sake!
    “Springbank House.”
    What was the use? If he didn’t tell the bastard, the name calling would begin in earnest. And that would make him mad.
    “That place’s for losers.” Dan sniggered. “Fancy one of these instead?”
    He held out a small plastic bag of what looked like smarties. “I won’t charge. Come and have some fun.”
    “I know what they are. They’re dangerous. I’m clean now, given it up.”
    “Don’t give me that. You’ll never be clean. You’re an addict. Nothing but a sad little druggie.”
    He was sneering. Neville didn’t like that. Dan wanted to get him high on those pills and make him do things.
    “Come on, let’s give those kids in the park some grief.”
    Dan whacked him on the back of the head.
    “Can’t. You should leave me alone.”
    Dan laughed. “Why, Naff? You dangerous all of a sudden?”
    If only he knew. Neville tried to smile. He was seriously tempted to tell him the truth. That would shut him up. But if he did that, he’d have to do him to keep him quiet.
    “You can spare half an hour,” Dan insisted. “I’ve got pills and beer. Look.” He produced two cans from his coat pocket.
    “I fancy a beer, but I’m not allowed to drink.”
    “You’re not a kid. You’ve a mind of your own. C’mon. Down by the skating rink?”
    “Yeah. Alright.” The beer had swung it.
    They made their way through the park gates, past the play equipment and onto the rink. No longer for roller skaters, it had been converted for skateboards. It was all stainless steel and ramps. Neville stared at it, his mouth open. Why did things have to change all the time?
    “Good, aren’t they?” Dan handed him a can while they watched the young boarders do their stuff.
    “Fancy a go?”
    Stupid question. Neville shook his head and took a hefty swig from the can.
    “Go on. Show ’em what you can do. I dare you. Get it right, and I’ll give you some of these.” He waved the pills.
    He was taking the piss again. Things never changed.
    “I’ve got to go.”
    “We’ve only just got here.”
    Dan shook the bag of pills in front of his face again. “Cheer you up a bit.”
    “What are they?” Neville eyed the pink pills with suspicion. They could be anything. No way was he going to risk it.
    “Legal highs. You need to chill, mate.”
    “I’m off.” He stood up and lobbed the half-full beer can at the kids on the rink. They hurled a torrent of abuse at him as he walked away. Neville covered his ears. He didn’t want to hear. Dan followed. He leapt about behind Neville, shouting, calling him names, teasing him.
    Neville was angry. It always ended this way. He’d been the target of all the morons in town for long enough. These people understood only two things — fear and power. Trouble was, no one was scared of Neville. Well it was time to show them he could fight back. It was time Dan learned who was in charge. Neville fingered the knife in his coat pocket. Why had he brought it? He smiled. The voices had told him to. They’d said it would make him feel better, and they were right.
    Dan was on a roll. He was right at Neville’s back, yelling and swearing. If Neville didn’t do something he’d follow him right up to the doors of Springbank. He’d frighten Edna. Neville had to make him stop. They’d reached a copse of trees at the far end of the park. Neville was out of breath now and had to stop. But he’d worked it out. He knew what he had to do. The voices were back. They were on his side, egging him on to sort Dan for good. He’d spoil his afternoon with Edna and Neville couldn’t have that.
    Neville looked around. There was no one about. He turned slowly. One lunge and it was all over. The noise stopped. The look on Dan’s face was