at the fairground.
‘Aim at another one, Fred, and I’ll double it, hundred quid I’ll give you.’
Freddie didn’t want to play this game any more, but he headed at the oncoming grey Peugeot and winced as it just got out of the way in time.
‘No more, Sonny, this ain’t funny any more.’
Sonny sat in the front laughing like a hyena. He loved danger. He got off on it; he knew his cousin was shit scared and he was milking his fear. ‘One more, Freddie Boy, and I’ll double it again. Two hundred I’ll give you if you aim at one more.’
Driving towards home, Terry was deep in thought. He was doing buttons for the new baby to arrive. Jade was definitely having a boy, he could feel it in his bones and he knew Billie Jo would be over the moon. When she had been younger, Billie had often spoken of her desire to have a baby brother; hopefully her wish would soon be granted. Desperately missing his lover, Terry pictured their reunion.
Happiness in life was hard to find and he knew that he and Jade were destined to go the whole hog of the way.
Seeing the headlights in the distance, Freddie Boy felt sick with fear. If he bottled it, he’d be called a coward. If he went for it, he’d be deemed a hero. Weighing up his options, he put his foot on the accelerator and hurtled towards the oncoming Range Rover.
Bored with the current CD, Terry decided a change was needed. Sifting through the glove box, he searched for his Johnny Cash. Taking his eyes off the road for a split second, he was completely unaware of the oncoming vehicle.
‘Wheyhey!’ Sonny was almost creaming himself, such was his excitement. Rocking in the passenger seat, he urged his cousin on.
‘Ready. Foot down, Freddie. Go for it, go on now.’
Looking up, Terry saw the van and knew he was in trouble. In a split second, he thought of Billie, Jade and the baby. Swerving violently to the left, he did everything in his power to save himself. ‘FUUCCKK,’ he screamed as the Range Rover flew into the air.
‘You stupid cunt, Sonny. You dinlo. The motor’s off the road. We’re for it. I’m telling ya, we’re fucking for it.’
‘What’s the matter?’ Leanne asked innocently. She and Lucy were enjoying themselves in the back of the van. Giggling every time it swerved, they were totally unaware of the incident that had just occurred.
Realising the girls were in the dark, Sonny grabbed his cousin’s arm. ‘Just shut up and drive to the site. Drop the girls there and we’ll go, get rid of this thing.’
Leaning towards Freddie, Sonny whispered the rest of his bright ideas into his ear. ‘Tommy Boy’ll burn this for us. Trust me, we’ll be fine. The two fillies in the back know nothing. We’re sweet, Freddie Boy. We’ve got an alibi.’
Shaking like a leaf, Freddie glanced fearfully at the lunatic sitting beside him. Obediently, he did exactly as he was told.
Alfie Smith was out walking Butch, his beloved Border collie two days later. Noticing the Range Rover, he trembled as he dialled 999.
PC Collins and PC Galvin had just left a domestic dispute when the call came over their radio. The first to arrive, they immediately feared the worst. After a struggle, they managed to open the back door, driver’s side.
The stench of death confirmed their suspicions. The blood and gore were prominent and the partially decapitated head was squashed against the dashboard.
Terry Keane was brown bread.
A fast, painless death. Poor old Terry had died instantly.
‘MUM, I’M GOING for a walk. I need to get out of the house, it’s doing my head in. Ring me immediately if you hear any news.’
Billie slammed the door without waiting for a reply and walked aimlessly along the road. Stopping to check her appearance in the wing mirror of a car, she was shocked to see how ill she looked. Her eyes were puffy and red raw from crying. Her dark hair looked greasy and unkempt and she seemed to have aged ten years overnight.
Sitting herself down on a nearby wall, Billie took deep gulps of fresh air to help subdue her panic. She took her phone out of her pocket and dialled her dad’s number again. A hundred times she must have tried him in the last couple of days. Hearing his answerphone message, Billie put her head in her hands and sobbed like a baby.
Her dad had been missing for two days now and not a soul had heard a word from him. Yesterday, when she’d been trying to get hold of him, his phone had been ringing and ringing. Today there was just his answerphone message.
Billie knew deep down that something bad had happened to him. It must have as he would never go away without telling her. He would never just leave her, no way in a million years. He loved her far too much to just up and go, she was sure of that. His disappearance was a total mystery and Billie racked her brains as to what had happened to him.
Unsurprisingly, her mother was no help. All she’d done the past two days was knock back wine, cry and swear blind that he’d run off with some old tart. Her nan and aunt had been slightly more helpful. They’d contacted the local hospitals, but her dad wasn’t there.
Billie had casually asked her mum if she had Jade’s mobile number to see if she knew where he was, but Chelle didn’t know it. It didn’t help that her dad had no address book. He knew all his numbers off by heart and the ones he didn’t were stored in his phone, so that was that, there was no way of contacting anybody.
Her mum knew Davey Mullins’ number and had tried to contact him. He hadn’t answered, so she’d left messages for him to call her back urgently. Dave was on the missing list as well. Her mum had called his bird, Lisa, but she hadn’t seen hide nor hair. The thought that Dave was with her dad comforted Billie slightly. At least wherever he was, he wasn’t alone. Billie had suggested to her mum earlier that they should call the police and report him as a missing person, but her mother was adamant that she didn’t want coppers round the house. Her exact words were, ‘I don’t want them tossers coming round my house. Nosy cunts they are, wanting to know the ins and outs of a maggot’s arse.’ If he didn’t show up by tomorrow though, her mum had promised to call them.
Taking a slow walk towards home, Billie let herself into the house. ‘Any news, Mum?’
‘Not a dickie bird,’ Chelle slurred.
It was only half eleven in the morning and Chelle had been drinking since eight to calm her nerves. Pearl was rocking to and fro on the sofa sobbing uncontrollably, whilst praying for Saint Anthony to find her boy. She was being comforted by a two-sheets-to-the-wind Bridie, who had been knocking the wine back with Chelle.
Billie looked at her dysfunctional family and decided she couldn’t sit in the room with them one minute longer.
‘I’m going up to my bedroom, Mum, to have a lie down. I’ve got a terrible headache.’
‘OK, Bill.’
As Billie walked up the stairs she heard the loud shrill of the phone and rushed back down as fast as her legs could carry her. Her mother had the blower in her hand and was rambling away, talking shit.
‘Where is he, Dave? If he’s with some bird you can tell me you know. I know he’s got a bit on the side, you must know where he is?’
Realising the caller was Davey Mullins, Billie snatched the phone off her mother.
‘Let me talk to him, Mum, you’ve had too much to drink and he won’t be able to understand you. Dave, it’s Billie. Have you been with my dad? We haven’t seen him since Boxing Day and we don’t know what to do.’
Dave sounded shocked. ‘I was in a pub with him Boxing Night, Bill, but he left early and I stayed there. Ain’t he been home at all?’
‘No,