"Энди Макнаб. Удаленный контроль (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

"Mommy and Daddy can't come and get you out at the moment, but you can
come with me. Daddy told me it would be OK. Are you going to come with me,
Kelly?"
Still no reply. I crawled right into the cave until I was curled up
beside her. She'd been crying; strands of light brown hair were stuck to her
face. I tried to move them away from her mouth. Her eyes were red and
swollen.
"You're in a bit of a mess there," I said.
"Do you want me to clean you up? Come on, let's go and get you sorted
out, shall we?" I got hold of her rigid hand and gently guided her out into
the garage.
She was dressed in jeans, a denim shirt, running shoes, and a blue
nylon fleece. Her hair was straight and just above her shoulders, a bit
shorter than I remembered it; she was quite lanky for a seven-year-old, with
long, skinny legs. I picked her up in my arms and held her tight as I
carried her into the kitchen. I knew the other doors were closed; she
wouldn't see her dad.
I sat her down on a chair at the table. "Mommy and Daddy b said they
had to go away for a while but asked me to look after you until they come
back, OK?"
She was trembling so much I couldn't tell if her head was nodding or
shaking.
I went to the fridge and opened it, hoping to find some comfort food. I
found the world's largest Easter egg.
"Mmm, yum do you want some chocolate?"
I'd had a good relationship with Kelly. She was a great kid, and that
wasn't just because she was my pal's daughter. I smiled warmly, but she just
stared at the table.
I broke off a few pieces and put them on one of the side plates that
she'd probably been setting earlier with Aida. I found the Off switch on the
radio; I'd had enough relaxing soft rock for one day.
As I looked at Kelly again I suddenly realized I'd fucked up. What was
I going to do with her? I couldn't just leave her here: her family was lying
dead all over the house. But more important, she knew me. When the police
arrived she'd be able to say, "Nick Stone was here." They'd soon find out
that Nick Stone was one of Daddy's friends; the house was littered with
photographs with me in them. And if they did arrest the grinning drunk in
the barbecue shots, they'd find that for some strange reason he wasn't Nick
Stone at all he was Mrs. Stamford's little boy.
Kev's jacket was hanging over one of the chairs. I said, "Let's wrap
you up in your dad's coat; that'll keep you nice and warm." At least she'd
have something other dad's; with luck it would cheer her up.
There was just a little bit of whimpering in reply. She was almost in
rigor mortis with shock, though at least she had turned her head to look at
me now. This was where normally I would have let Marsha take over, because a
child's mind was far too complicated for me to work out. But I couldn't do
that today.
I wrapped the coat around her and said, "Here you are; get this around
you. Look, it's your dad's! Don't tell him, eh, ha ha ha!" I felt something
solid in one of the pockets and checked.