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for the second time that morning.
    Caleb and Manny – the misshapen bloke from last night – were unloading bags and boxes and carrying them into the house. Manny had an odd set to his shoulders, as though not all his moving parts were working properly. As if something, somewhere had jammed, making his movements more awkward than most.
    A tall man – someone I hadn’t seen before – emerged from the back of the truck. Dark-haired, whip-thin and silent, his face closed, as if bracing against a stiff wind. While the other two grunted and sweated over the heavy lifting, he worked easily and methodically, the only sign of strain showing in the corded muscles that stood out on his arms.
    He worked in and out of the back of the truck, shifting furniture by himself and handing it on to Manny and Caleb, who would then ferry it with difficulty into the house. I watched silently while they took in bedheads and mattresses, a chest of drawers and a dining table, before working up enough courage to put my plan into action.
    â€˜Um, do you need a hand with anything?’ My voice chose that moment to change pitch, ending up somewhere near a squawk. The heat flooded my face as Caleb turned towards me, lowering the chair he had been carrying.
    The sheen of sweat on his pale face made him look clammy and unhealthy. He was breathing heavily. He didn’t answer immediately, but looked up at the man standing motionless on the tailgate of the truck.
    â€˜What do you think, Anders? We could get it done a lot quicker, if the four of us worked in pairs.’
    The tall, wiry guy stood unnaturally still and didn’t appear to be breathing. He had his eyes on Caleb, but for some reason I felt sure it was my presence that had caused him to stiffen. Finally he nodded – once, curtly – then disappeared into the body of the truck.
    Caleb’s face was turned away from me, so I could see a sliver of dark eye fixed on the truck through the side of his reflective glasses. The tall bloke, Anders, had retreated deep inside. He stood with one hand braced against the wall, head hanging, his back towards us. After a moment he straightened, took a deep breath and slowly resumed work, unstacking more boxes and manoeuvring them out towards us.
    A heavy hand on my shoulder made me flinch.
    â€˜Jumpy little fella, aren’t you?’ I spun around. The gravelly voice jangled with amusement. ‘I’m Manfred–’ he stuck out a thick paw, ‘–but my friends call me Manny.’
    I shook his hand, trying not to stare.
    Up close, he looked like he’d been broken into large chunks and reassembled. His face bore the gouges of deep ugly scars that roped down his thick neck and disappeared into his T-shirt.
    â€˜Want to work with me, matey?’
    I swallowed, and looked from him, to Caleb, then back to the tall bloke in the truck. I didn’t want to work with any of them. This plan of mine was starting to look like a very bad idea.
    Caleb’s voice cut in. ‘Let him work with Anders. You and I are managing fine as we are.’
    Manny raised a scarred and tufted eyebrow. ‘You’re the boss.’ He shrugged. ‘C’mon, kid. I’ll give you a boost up.’
    Before I had a chance to argue, he grabbed me under the arms and hoisted me into the belly of the truck.

CHAPTER TEN
    My throat closed over. Every warning Mum had ever given me screamed inside my head, but nothing came out. Not even a squeak.
    Never get in a car with a stranger. If anyone ever tries to grab you, scream your head off, kick him in the goolies and run like the clappers.
    She didn’t mince words, my mum, when it came to my personal safety. Now here I was, bundled into the back of a truck by the very freaks I had tried to warn her about. She was going to kill me, if I lived long enough to tell her the story.
    I was lucky: the bloke in the truck, Anders, hadn’t noticed me yet. He was clattering a