ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(62)

My family’s blood.

Andrew collapsed onto the sofa, avoiding the armchair that had held him captive for almost an entire night, and began to put his thoughts in order. There was no way out of the mess he was in now. He had murdered a teenager in cold blood and had been witnessed doing so. At the time, the nurse had been transfixed by the sight of Jordan’s mutilated body, but Andrew had no doubts that she would also have seen his face.

Not to mention the amount of CCTV that a hospital is likely to have.

There was no getting out of the fact that very soon Andrew would be arrested and charged with murder. It likely wouldn’t matter to the police his reasons why, but the only vindication Andrew could hold onto was that Jordan was jointly responsible for the torture of his wife and child.

Jointly responsible…

What’s going to happen to the others that did this? Will they get away scot-free while I go to prison?

Andrew could take the punishment for what he’d done. What he couldn’t take would be if his actions somehow helped to exonerate Frankie and the others. They would be free to blame the whole thing on Jordan now.

He done the whole thing, yer Honour. I had nothing to do with it.

And that was if they even went to court. They would provide alibis for one another and deny everything. That was exactly what Jordan had done right before Andrew gutted him like the cowardly fish he was.

How good it would feel to do the same to Frankie.

Andrew passed over the thought frivolously but then backed up and reconsidered it.

What’s to stop me? I’m going down for murder anyway. Pen could die and this might be the only chance I get to punish the person responsible.

Somehow, Andrew had found himself considering murder again. Before this week Andrew had never had a fight in his life – rarely even went so far as swearing at another person – but now he was thinking about leaving his house and hunting Frankie down like a rabid dog and killing him.

What shocked Andrew the most was that he’d already made up his mind. Looking around his smashed-up living room covered in the blood of the people he loved, Andrew was absolutely adamant that Frankie and his friends needed to die.

And they need to die tonight.

Andrew leapt up from the sofa, the pain of his wounds forgotten as focus and determination became his sole emotions. He headed to the kitchen and straight for the drawer beneath the microwave. He took out the longest blade he could find – a 9-inch carving knife. He wrapped it up in a tea towel and then stuffed the whole thing down the waist band of his trousers at the side so the weapon wouldn’t dig into him. Then he stood for a few moments, wondering if he should take anything else with him, but there was nothing more lethal inside the house than the knife he now possessed. He didn’t need anything else. Just something he could kill Frankie with.

Time to go…

Andrew let out a long breath and enjoyed the calm it brought to him. Stepping back through into the living room, he took one final look at the mess of his home to reconfirm his intentions of going through with what he was planning to do. There was still no doubt in his mind.

Into the hallway and through to the porch, Andrew unlocked the front door. The rain was falling even harder now, hitting against the glass windows with the same ferocity that Andrew felt pumping through his veins. He stepped out into the downpour and felt instantly refreshed as it cleansed his flesh, washing away the dry blood from his skin. He ran his hands through his hair and slicked it back, squeezing away the excess moisture.

“Mr Goodman. Stay right where you are.”

Andrew looked through the darkness and spotted two figures at the end of his path.

Officer Wardsley and Officer Dalton were there to arrest him.

***

“I don’t have time for this,” Andrew told the officers. “I need to go.”

“Not going to happen,” said Wardsley. “We need to ask you a few questions up at the station.”

“I did it, alright? I murdered that kid. You want to know why?”

The officers had closed the gap between them, without Andrew even realising it. Now they stood staring at him like he was a wild animal. They did not answer his question, but Andrew decided to tell them his reasons anyway.

“I murdered Jordan because he was one of the bastards that shaved my wife’s head, snorted coke off her naked body, and then stabbed her and my daughter. I couldn’t give him the chance to finish what he’d started. I couldn’t let him walk around free to do it again, to someone else.”