Stokes began to rock backwards and forwards in the seat, his eyes bulging as he pictured his fist slamming into the bastard's weak chin, knocking the teeth from his mouth, Medea screaming, watching the masked man beat the shit out of her minted boyfriend.
Snatching the key from the ignition, he thrust the door open and lurched out into the rain, his mind overflowing with images of violence and sex. Cripple the writer and fuck Medea, while she screamed and begged him not to hurt her or the baby.
Slamming the door, he set off walking, his hands opening and closing, his eyes wide and glassy as the fantasy continued to grow in his crazed mind.
When his booted feet hit the gravel, the scrunching sound brought him to a halt, as if the sound had broken the connection in his mind. Stokes hesitated, the small internal voice tried to take control, tried to get him to see the madness of what he was going to do. Then the wind blew and sent the rain into his face, but instead of cooling him down it seemed to inflame his anger, he set off walking again, yanking the ski mask out of his pocket, closing in on the fancy fucking house.
53
Suzanne smiled as Karen opened the door, a few seconds later she was standing in the hallway and closing the door behind herself.
When Lasser appeared at the top of the stairs, Suzanne gasped. He was dressed in dark jeans, his chest bare, the black raven Lasser called Walter had vanished beneath a swathe of black and purple bruising that covered his chest and right shoulder.
Before she could say anything, Lasser yanked a T-shirt over his head and the bruising vanished.
'My God, have you been to see the doctor over that?' she asked in a shocked voice as she moved to the foot of the stairs.
'I'll be fine,' he replied, his cheeks turning red.
'I'll put the kettle on,' Karen said with a sigh.
'It's OK, Karen, we're going out,' Suzanne said, her eyes locked on Lasser's face.
'Oh right,' Karen replied with a puzzled frown when she saw the look of resignation on Lasser's face.
'I'll get some shoes on,' he said, turning and vanishing from sight.
Suzanne sighed in relief, her eyes still full of shock from what she had seen.
'I asked him to get the bruising checked out, but he said he was fine,' Karen said apologetically.
Suzanne looked at her and smiled. 'That's what he always says, no matter what.'
Before Karen could reply, Lasser reappeared shrugging into a black leather jacket as he came down the stairs.
'Where are we going?' he asked.
'For a drive,' she replied, turning for the door.
Lasser smiled at Karen as Suzanne left the house and walked towards the Range Rover parked on the street.
'Looks like I'm in for a grilling,' he said before following her outside.
Karen closed the door quietly after watching Lasser climb into the passenger seat.
54
Stokes peered out from behind the bush, his eyes filled with loathing. The room beyond the glass was huge, and he had been right when he imagined Medea living a life of luxury. He could see her, sprawled out on the cream leather sofa, plumped with cushions, book in one hand, her other hand rocking a small carrycot on a stand by her side. The sight made his fury rear, his heart pounding as he yanked the mask over his head, leaving only his manic eyes visible.
Moving right, he glanced around the other side of the bush, he could see a gleaming four by four BMW parked to the left and the sight of it made the fury flare again. Here he was driving around in his mother's battered Fiat while Medea had access to a car worth over forty grand.
'Forty fucking grand!' he hissed before breaking cover and running at a crouch over the gravel towards the front of the house.
He was twenty feet away when the security lights sprang to life.
The blinding light hit his eyes, he gasped and threw an arm up against the onslaught.
Stokes covered the ground quickly and flattened himself against the stone wall, blinking rapidly as he tried to clear the flashing stars from his eyes. Beneath the mask, his brow was suddenly peppered with sweat, the internal voice screamed at him to just turn and get out of here while he had a chance.
He held his breath, his nostrils flared and then the lights vanished, the trees and bushes thrust back into shadows.
The only light was the warm square that pooled out onto the garden from the huge window, when he saw a slight outline of Medea's shadow appear on the grass Stokes licked his lips.
Backing off, he moved around the side of the house where the darkness held sway. Pausing for a moment, he waited until his eyes adjusted and then he began to skulk along the path that led to the rear of the property.
Easing around the corner he saw a faintly-lit greenhouse at the bottom of the garden. As if on cue, the rain stopped, and moonlight filtered through the bank of clouds revealing the open fields that surrounded the house.
He searched the darkness looking for any sign of a distant streetlight but there were none to be seen. Somehow, that fact made him angrier than ever, it was as if Medea was now living in an exclusive world, one barren of neighbours and noise and glaring streetlights, things that he had to put up with in his crummy bedroom.
Even when he and Medea had been together she had always had a high opinion of herself, as if things like shopping and taking out the wheelie bin were beneath her.
Gritting his teeth, he moved onto the patio, this time there were no security lights springing to life, and he grinned as he moved to the back door, his hand hovering over the handle.
The voice inside tried one final time to get him to see sense, but it was too late, he grabbed the handle and pushed it down. Finding it locked, he snarled then his hand shot away from the handle as suddenly a dog snarled back and started to bark, though thankfully it sounded panicked rather than savage.
Glancing to the left, his eyes lit up with malice when he saw the small rockery containing alpine plants… and chunks of white-painted stone.
Suddenly, the dog stopped barking, Stokes strode to the left, pausing for a second before peering in at the window.
He saw Medea standing on the opposite side of the glass, the small Jack Russell clasped to her breasts, and then her mouth opened, and he heard her petrified scream at the sight of a masked man staring back at her, he heard the terror in her voice, saw her eyes locked wide in disbelief.
The sight of it sent a dark thrill through his body, he spun away and grabbed one of the rocks from the garden before turning back to the window, behind the mask his face was twisted in a grin of madness as he hurled the stone at the glass.
The crash it made sounded huge and then it was obliterated by Medea's scream peeling out into the darkness.
Stokes dashed forwards and started to smash the remains of the glass from the bottom of the frame with his elbow.
By the time he grabbed the sill, Medea had put the dog down and was dashing from the room, her hair streaming out behind her, the Jack Russell – once again yapping – following as she ran. Stokes roared in anger as he scrabbled through the window.
The small dog continued to bark furiously as Medea ran into the lounge, she paused to grab her iPhone from the arm of the sofa before reaching into the cot to lift her sleeping daughter free, then she was dashing for the stairs.
She was halfway up when she heard the man running across the hardwood floor below.
One hand held the phone tight, her other clutched Ella to her chest; reaching the top of the stairs she ran right, her heart pounding, the fear chasing her every step of the way as her baby daughter awoke and started to scream, the sound clashing with the dog's bark.
Reaching the bathroom, she ran in and turned in time to see the masked figure reach the top of the stairs.
'Cunt!' he roared as he blasted towards her.
Slamming the door, Medea twisted the heavy lock into place just as he hit the door, she watched in terror as the handle was snatched up and down. T, the little dog, continued to yap, his hackle
s rising, teeth bared as the man started to slam his fists against the door.
Ella kept on screaming, her eyes screwed shut as if on some basic level she somehow knew something was wrong. Licking her lips in terror, Medea held her close as she swiped a finger across the screen of the phone, her vision blurring with tears as she scrolled through the names. Patrick's name flashed by, but he had left that morning to go down to London on business. Blinking away the tears, she carried on and then she stopped at the letter L that contained just one name.
The tears ran down her cheeks as the heavy wooden door rattled in the frame. Her daughter continued to cry, the dog barked as she waited in desperation for Lasser to answer.
55
The Range Rover glided along the rain-slick road, the powerful headlights illuminating the darkness, the wipers clearing the rain from the windscreen.
'OK, let's get it over with,' Lasser said as he fiddled with the cigarette packet in his pocket.
Suzanne kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead. 'I think the fact they've suspended you is a travesty.'
'I hear a ''but'' coming on,' he said, pulling out his cigarettes. 'Am I OK having a fag?'
The passenger window slid down a couple of inches letting in the cold, wet air.
Gratefully sparking up, Lasser turned to the gap and blew the smoke through it.
'You're in love with Odette, aren't you?'
He saw his own shocked face staring back at him in the side window.
Swallowing, he opened his mouth to deny the obvious just as his phone rang, he yanked it from his pocket – for once relieved to hear the drone.
When he saw Medea's name flashing up at him he hesitated, he had kept her number stored in his phone, yet it had been over two years since he had seen it illuminated on the screen.
'Are you going to get that?' Suzanne asked as the phone continued to ring.
'It's Medea,' he replied and watched as the look of surprise sprang onto Suzanne's face.
'So, answer it.'
Still he hesitated, but then eventually he tapped at the screen, his head snapping back into the headrest as the scream blasted into the car.
'HELP ME!'
Lasser felt the car weave to the left as Suzanne's hands jerked on the wheel.
'Medea, what's the…?'
'I'm locked in my bathroom, someone broke in and they're trying to break down the door,' her voice sounded full of terror and Lasser could hear the thump of someone hitting the bathroom door above the barking of the dog and the screaming of the baby.
'Pull over,' he demanded. Suzanne hit the brakes and Lasser thrust the door open and jumped out. 'Listen, Medea, I want you to put the loudspeaker on right now.'
'The…?'
'Just do it,' he said as he opened the driver's door.
Suzanne had scrabbled across the seats and was snapping the seatbelt into place as Lasser handed her the phone, then he set off, the wheels spinning on the wet tarmac.
'Take the phone to the door,' Lasser demanded as he went through the gears.
'I…'
'Just do it, Med.'
'OK, I'm there,' she whispered.
'Kill you, bitch!' the muffled voice echoed inside the car.
Suzanne screwed her eyes closed as she remembered a time just like this one when a madman had broken into her house and…
'POLICE!' Lasser bellowed. 'We are minutes away from arriving at the house and if you want to keep your prick attached to the rest of you then I suggest you fuck off. RIGHT NOW!'
Suzanne looked at Lasser and felt the fear escalate when she saw the look on his face, it was as if someone else had been living in his skin, someone who remained hidden behind the mask, and yet now she could see them trying to burst free from the shackles, and the fury in his eyes made her break out in a cold sweat.
'Last chance, you piece of shit!' Lasser screamed the warning as the car bulleted along the road.
Suddenly, the banging stopped replaced by the low, muted sounds of Medea crying, even the baby had fallen silent along with the dog.
Lasser kept his mouth closed and planted his foot to the floor, the white lines in the centre of the road vanishing beneath the Range Rover in a continuous blur.
The silence stretched out, broken only by the hurried breathing of Medea.
'Medea, are you OK?' Suzanne whispered, her eyes widening as the bend approached without Lasser slowing down.
She managed to hold the scream behind clamped lips, clinging onto the strap as the car tore around the curve in the road.
'Suzanne?' Medea whispered in terrified confusion.
'We're almost there,' she said, not sure who she was trying to reassure the most, herself or Lasser's ex-fiancé.
Lasser kept his eyes locked on the road, his hands gripping the wheel, the beast inside writhing, desperate to be released again then it could go on the rampage.
Suzanne watched him, seeing his lips curled back in what almost looked like a grin, though the darkness still shone from his eyes. She thought back to what Alan had said earlier about Lasser getting closer to losing it altogether. He had said that when the fury took control then Lasser saw nothing of the consequences but acted on impulse, and that was exactly what he was doing now, though she also realised that was what made him so good at his job.
'Please hurry,' Medea gasped.
'Just stay exactly where you are, we're closing in fast,' Suzanne said, though her eyes never left Lasser's face.
The road continued to twist and turn yet for some reason it was as if she were in a surreal bubble as she studied the man she had known for a few years and yet now realised that she didn't really know at all.
'It's gone quiet,' Medea whispered, the relief evident in her tone.
The speedometer reached sixty, the big car swaying as they continued to blast through the wind and rain.
'Where's Patrick?' Suzanne asked.
'London, he went this morning and…'
'Fucking whore!' the voice bellowed, and Medea screamed again.
'Two minutes!' Lasser yelled. 'Then that piece of shit will be dead!'
Suzanne found herself pressed back against the door as she realised that Lasser meant every word.
Suddenly, he hit the brakes, she lurched forward, the seatbelt biting into her breast as they shot around the roundabout, the tyres sliding on the rain-slick road.
Then the car picked up speed again, forcing Suzanne back into the seat, Lasser pulled himself forwards, hunching over the steering wheel, his jaw clenched as he took a right down a narrow lane, the car bucked and then righted itself, the wipers working full speed in an effort to keep the screen clear.
The sound of Medea's frantic breathing filled the car, urgent and fear-filled.
Lasser blocked it out, concentrating on getting to the house as quickly as possible.
'I think he's gone,' Medea whispered.
'We're nearly there, Med, just try and stay calm,' Suzanne replied.
The roadside was suddenly lined with trees and Lasser fumbled to find the high beam, for a couple of seconds the wipers stopped, and Suzanne felt the breath hitch in her throat, Lasser cursed low under his breath and then they whisked back to life and the windscreen was clear again. He tried another switch and the lights blossomed, illuminating the road ahead.
A series of lefts and rights came fast and Lasser was forced to slow down as the big car struggled to stick to the surface.
'Almost there,' Suzanne whispered as she held the phone up to her face, her eyes widening as Lasser navigated another bend before clattering over a cattle grid.
They barrelled through Rivington village, past half a dozen cottages set back from the road, a green stretch of grass was all that separated them from disaster. He hit the brakes again, slithering over the wet leaf-strewn road and around a right-hand bend before hitting the gas once more, the lane narrowing to a single-track road with passing places.
To the left and right the high stone wall blocked out the worst of the w
ind and Lasser swiped a hand across his sweating brow.
'Please hurry,' Medea gasped as her daughter whimpered.
Suzanne waited for Lasser to answer, when he didn't she cleared her throat.
'We're on Black Sheep Lane so we'll be there any minute now,' she replied, trying to inject some comfort into her voice.
Lasser snatched the wheel to the left and the road suddenly fell away, Suzanne planted one hand on the dash in fear. It felt as if they were falling off the end of the world into a deep dark void. The headlights cut out into the trees that loomed over the narrow lane, Lasser feathered the brakes, his hands making small corrections on the wheel in an effort to avoid losing control and hurtling into the trees.
After what seemed like an age, the road flattened out and started to run straight and Lasser risked more speed, his eyes raking the darkness, looking for any flash from distant head or tail lights.
'Half a minute away,' Suzanne said into the phone as Lasser slammed his foot down on the accelerator.
The trees suddenly ended, the wind cut in from the left, slamming into the Range Rover and forcing Lasser to compensate for the savage blast. He glanced left and saw the light in the distance.
'We're here,' Suzanne gasped down the phone.
'Oh, thank God.' Medea panted.
Lasser could hear the relief in her voice though he refused to relax knowing that the nutter could still be at the house, waiting to see who turned up.
The large square of light drew closer and Lasser dropped down through the gears and hit the brakes; as he turned onto the gravel drive the twin beams hit the front of the house and he brought the car to a halt and snapped off the seatbelt.
When Suzanne grabbed the handle of the door Lasser reached out and placed his hand on her shoulder.
Blood Bought Page 18