Never Tell by Claire Seeber Page B

I—’
    ‘Please,’ I tried to keep calm, ‘let go of the door.’
    ‘Let me in.’ He rattled the handle.
    ‘I will. Just please, let go and – and we can talk properly.’
    He wasn’t listening to me; he seemed delirious with terror. There was spittle on his broad lower lip as he intoned, ‘Call ‘em now, call ‘em now. Tell them the truth about this family, about that man.’
    ‘Please,’ I tried again, ‘just calm down, OK?’
    His face was pressed up hard against the car window, his nose flattened horribly against the glass, pupils dilated, the whites yellow.
    I undid the central locking and he saw his chance. He tugged open the door and started to pull me out.
    ‘Hang on,’ I cried frantically. ‘Just, please, let me—’
    He was really hurting me, both hands on the collar of my fleece, pulling me against my seat belt until it cut into my neck, threatening to strangle me.
    ‘Please,’ I gasped for air. ‘I can’t breathe.’
    When I was small, a boy at the local swimming pool had got into trouble in the deep end; as the proud owner of a Silver lifesavers’ badge, I’d dived in to help. But panic had made him mad and instead of letting me guide him safely to the side, he’d used me as a float, holding my head under water as he fought to stay alive, pushing me down until I thought I would die, my lungs exploding with the effort to get air.
    ‘Please,’ I gasped now, ‘my neck. You’re hurting me.’ But the man was so frantic, he was deaf to my plea. ‘Please stop.’
    A pair of arms came around the man and he was pulled to the floor, hands forced behind his back.
    Feet on the gravel now but still sitting in the car, I bent double, staring at my shoes, trying to get my breath. When I looked up, a young Asian man had one knee in the small of the man’s back, and Callendar was sprinting up the drive.
    ‘Are you OK?’ he called as he neared.
    I nodded uncertainly.
    ‘Get off me, get off me,’ the man on the floor was moaning.
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Yes.’
    Callendar and I stared at one other; a moment suspended in time. I looked at him and I felt nothing but confusion.
    ‘You need to leave now.’ He spoke first, breaking the tension. ‘It’s not safe for you here.’ His tone was urgent.
    ‘But …’ I looked at the man on the floor, ‘he needs help. The police, he said—’
    ‘He needs locking up,’ the Asian man spat, ‘don’t you, blood? Fucking nutter.’
    I recognised him from the party; the man who had waited for Hadi Kattan by the door, now dressed in combats and a vest in place of the shiny suit he’d worn last night, a faded tattoo of a star and moon on his upper bicep. He pulled the black guy up by the hands and then dropped him again heavily so his face hit the gravel.
    ‘Don’t!’ I shouted, wincing as I felt the thud of his torso smacking the ground. ‘Please.’
    Callendar moved between me and the two men, his jaw set rigid.
    ‘Zack, take him up to the house.’ From the corner of my eye, I saw him boot the man on the floor in the ribs.
    ‘My pleasure.’ Zack pushed the man’s face into the gravel again. I winced.
    ‘Your neck.’ Callendar reached an arm out to me and I tried not to flinch. ‘You’re bleeding.’ He held his sleeve against the welts that were already rising there. For the first time, I felt frightened of this man.
    ‘I’m fine.’ I felt the pressure of his arm on my skin.
    ‘Get it seen to, I would.’ He stepped back now.
    ‘But I think … ‘ I began rather helplessly. I didn’t know what to think, that was the truth.
    ‘Don’t think,’ Danny said quietly, reading my mind. I saw blood on his sleeve. My blood – or older, darker – drying blood? ‘Please, Mrs Miller, just get in your car, and go.’
    ‘But …’ I stammered. ‘I’m more worried about him.’
    ‘It’s family business, love,’ the man called Zack said over his shoulder, as he hauled the black guy to his feet and marched him towards the house,