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confused, though one or two were arguing amongst themselves, gesticulating angrily at the house and each other.
'You all right?' Andy asked, glancing at Dawn Stratton, his new partner.
Dawn rolled her pale green eyes. 'I've already told you, Andy, you don't have to mollycoddle me.'
'Only asking,' Andy said, and switched off the engine. 'It's for my benefit as much as yours.'
'I'm fine,' she said firmly, and opened the door.
The call had come in five minutes earlier – a disturbance at a party in a student-occupied house. According to the caller, a gatecrasher had attacked and wounded a female partygoer.
Andy and Dawn strode across to the ambulance, Andy fending off comments from a couple of the more abrasive drunks. The back doors of the vehicle were standing open and a yellow-jacketed paramedic was inside, tending to a young girl.
'Hi,' Andy said, leaning in. He winced at the sight of the wound on the girl's arm. 'That looks nasty. Bitten, were you?'
The girl nodded. She was slightly built, pale and trembling with shock. The crescent of teeth-marks on her forearm was deep and still leaking blood.
'Who did this to you?' Andy asked gently.
The girl licked her lips. In a small voice she said, 'Dunno. Just some guy. He was like an animal. Think he was high on something.'
'And where's this guy now?' asked Dawn, standing at Andy's shoulder.
'In the cellar. Some of the other guys locked him in. He was a nutter. Going for everybody.'
'Don't worry, love, we'll sort him out,' Andy said. 'Any other injuries?' he asked the paramedic.
'Just minor stuff,' the paramedic replied. 'Cuts and scratches mainly. My colleague's inside, dealing with those.'
Andy thanked him, and then he and Dawn walked up the path and through the open door of the terraced house. The second paramedic was at the bottom of the stairs, crouched beside a girl who was perched on the third step, holding her blonde hair away from a pair of thin scratches on the side of her neck. The two police officers acknowledged the paramedic with a nod and stepped into a crowded room on their left. It was a typical student place – shabby decor; threadbare furniture; posters on the walls; cans, bottles and overflowing ashtrays cluttering every surface. The dimly lit room stank of cigarette smoke, and was so hot that the windows streamed with condensation. Music was blasting out of a sound system in the corner. Andy recognised it – he had the CD at home. Kings of Leon. Only By The Night .
'Can you turn that down a bit, please?' he asked a girl with dyed red hair and a nose stud, who was clutching a bottle of cider. The girl complied without a murmur, and Andy pointed at an open door in the far corner, which afforded enough of a glimpse of the room beyond to suggest that it led to a brightly lit kitchen. 'Cellar through here, is it?'
Heads nodded dutifully. As Andy and Dawn crossed to the door, the crowd parted before them.
The kitchen was narrow, and looked out on to a bricked-in backyard. Beside the greasy oven, cans and bottles bobbed in a plastic bath full of iced water. There were more bottles stacked on the work surfaces, and two black plastic dustbins full of empties stood by the back door. There were six guys in the kitchen, looking tense. One was swigging red wine out of a bottle; the rest were clutching cans of beer. Two were smoking roll-ups. A thin haze of blue-grey smoke hovered near the ceiling.
'Hello, fellers,' Andy said amiably. 'I gather you've got a bloke locked in your cellar?'
As if on cue, there was an irregular tattoo of thumps on the blue-painted door tucked away in an alcove at the back of the room. Accompanying the thumps was a low moan.
'Is he all right in there?' Dawn asked.
'He's a mentalist,' one of the guys muttered.
'Stinks an' all,' added another.
Andy crossed to the door and rested his forehead against the wood. 'Hello in there,' he said. 'This is the police. We're here to investigate an alleged assault. Could you tell me your name, please?'
There