Page 143 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
He ran.
Chapter Nineteen
DEVAN CAUGHT UP WITH THEpolice about three miles away from Shennan Sands. The car was speeding, its lights flashing, yet it wasn’t moving anywhere near fast enough for Devan. But at least the police had acted quickly after his call. It had been the hardest thing Devan had ever done, ending the call between him and Jonty so he could contact the police. He didn’t have time to stop and ask for someone else’s phone. Every second counted.
His car was more powerful than the police vehicle, and if it hadn’t been a narrow road, he’d have overtaken, but itwasa narrow road and an accident would delay both him and the police—and Jonty needed helpnow!He’d kept trying to call Jonty back as he drove, but there was no answer. If anything had happened to him, he’d fucking beat the shit out of Brad Greene.I’ll kill him.
Hang on, Jonty.
Devan skidded onto the drive behind the police car, blocked in a silver Audi—so the bastard is still here.
“I’m Devan Smith, I’m the one who called you,” Devan shouted as he ran to the front door with his keys.
“Stand back, please sir.” One of the cops pushed the door open while the other headed round the side of the house.
When Devan saw the open bi-fold door, he guessed Jonty had gone into the sea. He’d given him a clue when he’d made the comment about Brad not being able to swim. He pushed past the policeman who was entering through the back of the house. “They’re on the beach.”
Devan raced down the path and onto the sand, ignoring calls for him to wait. There were two figures a couple of hundred yards away. Jonty and Brad. They were both running.Thank God, he’s still alive.
The two policemen came up behind him.
“They’re a long way down the beach,” Devan said. “Is there a quicker way to get there?”
“We can drive, cut in closer,” one of the policemen said.
“I’ll go on foot. If I’m watching maybe…” Devan sprinted onto the beach, moving down to where the sand was firmer closer to the sea. He yelled Jonty’s name as he ran. One of the policemen had followed him.
When he saw Jonty splash into the sea, Devan groaned. Brad threw what looked like phone and car keys onto the sand and went in after him. Devan’s heart was beating out of his chest. He found another burst of speed from somewhere. The policeman was lagging behind. There was no sign of his colleague approaching over the dunes. Jonty was swimming straight out to sea.
Devan sensed the moment Jonty realised he was there, but when Jonty started to swim back, Devan realised Brad was moving to intercept him.
“Jonty, look out!” As soon as Devan was parallel with Jonty, he kicked off his shoes, tossed his wallet and phone aside and went into the water.
Brad launched himself at Jonty and pushed him under. Devan was swimming as fast as he could. When Jonty surfaced, Brad grabbed him again. By the time Devan reached them, the two of them were entwined and struggling.
“Let him go,” Devan yelled and yanked at Brad’s shoulder.
When Brad grabbed hold of him, Devan saw blind fear in the guy’s eyes.
“He can’t swim,” Jonty gasped. “He’s panicking.”
“Jonty, swim away!” Devan shouted.
Brad’s weight sent Devan under and the guy kicked him as he thrashed around. Devan stayed down and swam to Jonty, surfacing at his side.
“Get out of the water,” Devan panted. “He’ll drown us both.”
As Jonty swam in, Devan saw both policemen were now on the beach and one was taking off his shoes. Brad was still thrashing around. As soon as Devan was sure Jonty was safe, he swam back to Brad. He ducked under the water to approach him from the rear and wrapped his arm around his chest. The bastard still fought and Devan considered letting him drown. But not with witnesses.
“Don’t approach from the front,” Devan yelled at the cop swimming towards them.
Devan managed to turn Brad so he was facing out to sea, then kicked to pull them both back to the beach. The policeman joined him and by the time they were able to walk, supporting Brad between them, Devan was exhausted and shivering violently. He dropped Brad on the sand—not gently—and Jonty flung himself into his arms.
“Thank you, thank you,” Jonty sobbed.
“What the hell’s happened here?” one of the policemen asked.
“He wanted me to go with him,” Jonty gasped. “And he tried to kill my friend, Tay Robertson.” Jonty was rigid in Devan’s arms. “He pushed him off a ladder and Tay’s still in a coma.”
