Last to Die: A gripping psychological thriller not for the faint hearted by Arlene Hunt Page B

weight it deserves.’
    ‘The people who  count  already know Jessie and her story.’
    ‘But the public—’
    ‘I don’t give a  damn  about the public and, tell the truth, I don’t think you do neither.’
    In the background, the driver gesticulated at Harry, a universal sign, dismissive and crude.
    ‘I understand Jessie’s reluctance to talk. It might be hard to speak about what happened but I believe talking could be cathartic for your wife. I’m sure as a survivor Jessie is suffering from many mixed emotions. Fear, anger, guilt—’
    ‘Guilt? Let me stop you right there, Miss Levine. You don’t get to piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining. I don’t know what more might have happened that day. I sure as shit don’t want to think about how bad it might have gotten neither. But whatever Jessie is feeling, you can be sure it’s for the people who died, for those who are suffering  now . You need to quit bothering my wife.’
    ‘We are prepared to offer her a considerable sum for an exclusive interview, Mr Conway.’ There was an air of desperation in Darla’s voice, and yet still a trace of petulance.
    ‘You people,’ Mike shook his head. He tucked his cigarettes into the top pocket of his overalls and was about to go inside when across the street the driver got out of the Escalade and shoved Harry Carling in the chest hard enough to send the old boy sprawling. Mike was off the steps and across the road in a flash. He grabbed the driver by the shoulder with one hand, spun him on his heels, and decked him with the other. The driver went down, hard. Mike hurried to Harry, who was struggling to get his feet under him.
    ‘He knocked me down, Mike. You see that?’
    ‘I saw him all right.’ Mike hauled him upright and brushed some of the dust from his pants.
    ‘Damn, I lost my teeth.’
    The teeth lay near the front tyre of the Escalade. Mike picked them up and handed them back to their owner. Harry spat on them, wiped them against the front of his overalls and popped them back into his mouth.
    ‘He got the drop on me Mike, ’nother day I woulda had him.’
    ‘Yeah, I’ve no doubt.’
    ‘I’m so sorry about this,’ Darla Levine came up behind them. She held out her hand to Harry. ‘Please accept my apologies.’
    Mike Conway looked past her to the driver who lay in a patch of weeds, holding his jaw. ‘Your driver there might need some of that empathy and sympathy you’re so keen to dish out.’
    Darla flushed and dropped her hand.
    ‘Come on, Mr Carling, let’s go inside.’
    Mike and Harry Carling went into the scrapyard together. Darla walked over to Chippy.
    ‘You idiot,’ Darla said. ‘What the hell was that about?’
    ‘He didn’t hear what that old fuck called me.’
    ‘ So what?  You need a fainting couch now because you hear a bad word? We’ve got half the big networks in the country circling Jessie Conway like sharks. Whatever chance we had is now gone! My fucking chance at an exclusive is gone!’
    Chippy touched his face with his hand. ‘I think he might have broken my jaw.’
    ‘Pity it wasn’t your neck!’ Darla turned and stormed off.

14
    I t would be impossible to explain to another person, Caleb thought as he packed a few belongings into a holdall and locked the apartment door, the thrill hunting brought him. They would never understand what it was that drove him; that it wasn’t the kill, or the butchery, or even the release he felt afterwards. How could he explain the anticipation or the tension that rushed through him? Who would understand the twisting unknown variables that sent the blood coursing through his veins? Perhaps another hunter, but he had been with other hunters before and felt no kindred spirit.
    Caleb went downstairs and collected the gold Taurus from the underground parking lot. He drove out through the electronic gates and indicated left. He pulled in behind a dark sedan, slipped into the late-evening traffic and drove at a law-abiding