cone of light cut through the darkness. She stiffened. The beam stretched into Marrowbone Lane, sweeping from side to side like a searchlight. Harry ducked down low, peering out. A man stood with his back to her. He was wearing a baseball cap, and his flashlight had zeroed in on the windscreen of her car.
Harry flinched. Her breathing came in short gulps. More glass smashed. She steeled herself to look again. The man in the baseball cap was poking his arm through the shattered window of her car. He unlocked the door, flung it open and searched the interior with his flashlight. Then he popped open the boot and checked inside. His movements were brisk and economical, unhampered by the gun that he aimed straight ahead at all times.
Harry clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Her stomach churned as she thought of how she’d almost hidden in her car. But how the hell did he know which one was hers? She closed her eyes. Garvin’s house. He’d probably waited outside for Garvin and seen her arrive.
The boot slammed shut and Harry jumped. She kept her eyes shut. Footsteps crunched on broken glass, but after a moment there was silence. She huddled closer to the wall, hugging her knees. Like Beth, cowering in the safe.
She stayed like that for some time, until finally a woman’s voice called down to her from above.
‘He’s gone, luv. Done a runner.’
It was a husky, smoker’s voice, and for an absurd moment Harry thought of her mother. She had the same hoarse throatiness. Tears pricked Harry’s eyes. She opened them and peered out from behind the giant satellite dish. Marrowbone Lane was empty.
Harry hauled herself to her feet. She felt cold and achy, as though she’d spent a night camping outside. Her eyes darted left and right as she clambered over the railings and tottered back out towards the lane. She looked over her shoulder at the ember burning in the dark.
‘Thanks.’
But the woman didn’t reply. Harry wondered what other things she’d seen from her balcony that made her take all this in her stride.
She scuttled over to her car, eyes raking the shadows. Scrunching over the glass, she swept the driver’s seat clear of splinters with her bag. Then she ducked inside, gunned the engine and tore off through the backstreets, zig-zagging left and right until she reached the main road.
The bright lights of Thomas Street felt like a refuge, but the sweat still rolled down her back. Had someone really just tried to kill her? Her head felt scrambled. She shot a glance in her rear-view mirror, half-expecting the silhouette of a baseball cap to appear in the car behind. She swerved left, switching lanes. Horns blasted her erratic driving, and she took a fitful breath, trying to calm down.
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