Dead Heat by Nick Oldham Page B

down the long driveway to the main road.
    Now the yard was still. The fluorescent yellow lights shone brightly.
    Verner relaxed and thought about the hours to come.
    His orders were to up the stakes tonight. So far, things had been pretty mild. ‘Put the fear of God into them,’ he had been instructed.
    He thought about the horses he had hurt previously. And smiled. He enjoyed hurting. He enjoyed killing, too. But hurting was like a sport, a pastime, whereas killing was a profession.
    Hurting had been fun. He had wondered what it would be like to hurt a horse, wondered if he would actually have disliked doing it, hurting a poor, dumb, defenceless creature. But it had been excellent because they were not actually dumb enough not to show terror in their eyes. As he’d slashed them, their expressions had been glorious to behold.
    Tonight, though, he had been told to go one step further.
    The pair made it back with about thirty seconds to spare – just at the point where the ladies were getting a little agitated and the children, because it was late and they were tired, fractious.
    Kate and Henry stood at the door and waved Karl and his family off. As the 4x4 turned out of sight, Henry slid his arm around Kate’s slim waist and planted a kiss on the side of her face.
    She pulled away from him slightly.
    â€˜Drink equals friskiness with you, doesn’t it?’
    â€˜Not necessarily,’ he said, mocking offence. Then, ‘OK – yes it does.’
    They closed the front door and melted into each other’s arms. ‘It’s a good job I’ve had half a bottle of Blossom Hill red then, isn’t it?’ Her face tilted up. He kissed her slowly, gently, deliberately.
    â€˜Think we’ve got time to . . . y’know? Before the girls get back?’
    â€˜Is it going to be a slowie or a quickie?’
    â€˜Long and slow . . . I’ve had a drink, remember?’
    She gulped. ‘Even if they come back, they wouldn’t interrupt us, would they?’
    â€˜Wouldn’t dare.’ Henry took her hand and led her upstairs, feeling very frisky indeed.
    The chill of the night did not bother Verner. He had been in far colder, more uncomfortable places.
    It was an hour since the security patrol had left. At the main house, some lights had been turned off, leaving only the main lounge and one bedroom light on. The time was slowly approaching. His watch said 10.17.
    There was some movement in the stable yard. Quickly he put the night sights to his eyes.
    It was a teenage girl, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt top. She was edging her way around the yard, keeping to the shadows. What the hell was she up to? And who the hell was she? He could not quite get a sharp focus on her face, but he kept the glasses held firmly to his eyes, watching her movements. It was obvious she was trying to keep unseen. She dashed quickly across the yard, then back into the darkness of the stables. Verner could clearly see her at the door of one of the loose boxes. She was messing with the lock. Suddenly the door opened and she went inside, closing it behind her.
    â€˜Shit,’ Verner breathed to himself. A delay, maybe a complication. What was she up to? He breathed out, relaxed, waited.
    Ten minutes later she emerged, locking the stable door behind her. She paused, rushed across the yard and disappeared behind the building that was the tack room. Verner next picked her up in his sights as she ran towards the main house.
    Twenty minutes after that, the security patrol car re-entered the grounds and parked in the middle of the stable yard. The driver got out and checked each stable door carefully, then left.
    Security sure is tight, Verner thought.
    Henry’s promise to Kate came true. Their lovemaking was long and sensual, not always slow, sometimes fast and furious and with abandon, but always – always – with love and respect. It was as though he and Kate had just invented sex. It