Free Darkhouse by Alex Barclay Page A

your glasses. We are now three point four seconds past closing time. I repeat. Step away from your glasses.’
    Frank smiled.
    ‘You need any help clearing the place, sergeant?’ said Ray. ‘You could cuff a few of these guys. Joe would probably get a kick out of frisking them, wouldn’t you?’
    Frank and Joe laughed.
    Mick Harrington pushed through them on his way out with a large brown paper bag full of bottles.
    ‘Jesus Christ,’ said Hugh. ‘It’s Fr Merrin.’
    Mick looked at him. ‘You know, the Exorcist. He comes in, he takes away the spirits,’ Hugh explained.
    Mick gave one of his hearty laughs. ‘I’ve got about twenty pissed Spaniards down at the harbour that I have to keep lubricated,’ he explained. ‘This is my second bar run of the evening. Their boat’s being worked on and they’re hanging off it singing shite drinking songs.’ He turned to Joe, ‘By the way, if Robert is with Shaun, tell him to go home. Someone better keep the wife company.’
    ‘They’re out,’ said Joe.
    ‘Looks like there’ll be a big black mark beside both our names, then,’ said Mick.
    Katie stopped and held her head back, squeezing the corners of her eyes. The tears still fell. She started walking again, quickly, desperate to be home in her bed. Suddenly, a set of tail lights came to life in front of her, the car tilted across the ditch. She squinted into the glare and slowed her pace until she was close enough to know something was very wrong.

SIX
    Stinger’s Creek, North Central Texas, 1980
    Mrs Genzel looked out at her fifth grade class. They were bent over a history term paper, arms hooked around their answers. Duke Rawlins sat with his head bowed, his pencil moving furiously. She could see the pages he’d finished, crisp on his desk with the pressure of his strokes. He looked up, searching for something and she wondered what was behind those pale eyes. Then he stopped, suddenly ripping out pages and scrunching them up. He threw one or two on the ground. The rest of the children stared. A giggle broke the silence.
    ‘Shh,’ said Mrs Genzel. She turned to Duke, ‘Is everything OK?’ She spoke softly.
    He gave a quick, jerky nod. His mouth was shut tight. The fingers of his left hand were drumming the desk.
    ‘Do you want to start over?’ she said.
    He shook his head again, slower this time. ‘No, ma’am.’
    Then he leaned back and squeezed his eyes closed. His chest was heaving.
    She studied his expression. ‘Could I see you outside, Duke?’
    He got up from the desk and walked out the door.
    Mrs Genzel tried to look at him, but he kept his head down.
    ‘Things don’t seem like they’re going too well for you,’ she said.
    ‘I’m OK,’ he answered.
    ‘What happened back there?’
    ‘Nothin’, ma’am.’ She waited.
    ‘Stuff,’ he added.
    ‘What kind of stuff?’
    ‘Don’t know, ma’am.’
    ‘Were the questions too difficult?’
    ‘No,’ said Duke. ‘I just…’ He looked away.
    He caught her off guard then, lifting his head to stare right at her. Her heart leapt. She was close enough now to see the struggle behind his eyes. Duke saw only kindness in her face, but it flickered quickly and changed to darker images of faces he couldn’t trust, of reactions he couldn’t predict.
    ‘Nothin’,’ he said, retreating. ‘Couldn’t spell somethin’.’
    She didn’t realise she had been holding her breath until she let it out.
    ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Come on back inside.’
    The office was tidy and homely, cream walls and floral wallpaper, sunflower chair rails and base boards. Children’s drawings covered a small bulletin board. Mrs Genzel sat behind her desk, short grey hair cut like a man’s around her soft, warm face.
    ‘Mrs Rawlins—’
    ‘Miss,’ said Wanda. ‘Can’t live with ’em…’ She shifted in the wide chair, withdrawing into it, making her crossed legs and the black scab on her knee the first thing the teacher could see.
    ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Genzel.