by Anne Lown
“Aw, man,” Martin said. “Who the hell would do that? What else did they take?”
“Nothing as far as I could see. Just that knife.”
Nick, being forever the upstanding citizen, asked, “So what did the police say?”
“I didn’t call them. Could hardly have them round investigating a missing knife I shouldn’t have in my possession in the first place. Can just imagine their faces if they saw the rest of it.”
“You do have a point,” Nick said.
“So any ideas who broke in?” Martin asked.
For some reason Martin was pushing this question, and that fact wasn’t lost on Harvey. It was unlikely Martin was worried for him in case whoever it was returned, so maybe he was covering his tracks. It might sound like a strange thing to think, but there was something off about the bloke. Harvey could never put his finger on it, but there was something he seemed to be hiding, like there was another side to the quiet, unassuming man he tried to portray. Yes, that was it, he felt like it was all an act. A fake personality he used for his own purposes, whatever they were. Another reason he would never invite him over; he just didn’t trust him like he did Nick.
“Hey, you lot, guess what I’m doing tonight.”
All three looked up. Pete sauntered towards them. The interruption prompted Harvey to put away his phone and allow the conversation to go in another direction. Pete was at least thirty years old and a good decade younger than all of them but acted like he was still a teenager.
“Don’t tell me, Two-Stroke’s getting lucky?” Martin’s quip had them all laughing, something Pete was used to. It was their nickname for him because he was always bragging about his sexual prowess.
“So who’s it with tonight, your granny?” Harvey joined in, glad of the diversion.
“Yeah, right,” Pete countered, “my girlfriend, of course. We’re getting together after she has dinner with her family. She’s meeting me in the woods.”
Martin was in full swing, “You sure she won’t mistake you for a broken twig?”
The sniggering continued. Teasing Pete was considered sport. It was their way of addressing a balance. Pete was prone to picking on other quieter colleagues, so they felt no remorse in dishing his behaviour right back at him. Not even his girlfriend was immune to his constant moaning. They couldn’t tell if he was genuinely unhappy or if it was just a bad habit.
“How did you know we were out here?” Nick asked, fiddling with his glass and slopping some of the beer onto the wooden slats of the table.
“Colette’s inside crying about Harvey breaking up with her,” Pete said, smirking.
Harvey knew Pete enjoyed passing on that nugget of information, in the hope it’d piss him off. He’d dated Colette a few times. She was a party girl who loved making a scene and hadn’t yet realised she was well over forty. At first, she’d been fun and brought a bit of excitement to his life, but her demands now got on his nerves. Not taking her with him to Vegas had been the last straw. He didn’t know her well enough for that kind of trip, and she hadn’t taken kindly to being left behind, accusing him of seeing other women.
“Do you think Colette might’ve done it?” Nick asked before clamping his mouth shut and pressing his lips together.
“Oh, yeah, done what?” Pete raised his eyebrows.
“Nothing,” Harvey said. It’d crossed his mind she might’ve broken in for retaliation, but he didn’t want to confront her with his suspicions. Was she capable? Probably. Would she do it? Maybe. If he ignored her, the urge to blab would be too great, and he’d know soon enough. So that made it two people, Colette and Martin, who could’ve stolen his knife. Only time would tell if it was either of them.
Harvey sighed. A movement at the far end of the pub garden caught his attention. The tear-stained face of Colette came into view. He knew sending Pete first was her preparing a dramatic entrance. She had to make sure they’d notice her and not be deep in conversation. She staggered towards Harvey in her high heels and lunged at him. He’d not had the chance to swap his glass hand; she clutched his arm to steady herself, and the liquid spilled towards his friends.
“Watch it,” Pete said, “I’ve got to look good for later.”
“Buy me a drink,” Colette slurred, appearing not to notice.
“I think you’ve already had enough.” Harvey pulled his face away from hers, not wanting to inhale her stale gin breath. She’d probably started on the booze soon after lunch—another reason they’d parted ways; she never knew when she’d had too much.
Colette stared back like she’d been slapped. Harvey pitied her. Her carefully made-up face was now trailed by mascara. The beautifully styled blonde hair was still in place, but her dress was alcohol-stained where she’d missed her mouth too many times the more drunk she’d become. He thought it a shame because she’d grown into a stylish and good-looking older woman, but her vindictive behaviour let her down.
“Then take me back to your place.” She was nothing if not persistent.
“I think you can go home. I’ve had enough company for one night.”
“Yep,” Nick said, “time I went.”
“Good idea,” Martin joined in.
Colette turned to Pete, sizing him up like a pro. “What about you? Buy a lady a drink?”
“Aw, sorry,” he said, “got to meet my girlfriend. Hot date tonight.”
Harvey snorted. If Pete hadn’t been seeing Faye he would’ve gladly spent the night with Colette. He’d been known to ask out women the same age as his mum. If it was female, that was good enough for him.
All three friends made a quick departure, glasses of beer still in hands. They went their separate ways, two of them not glancing back in case the Curse of Colette seized them. It was their joke at her expense. They weren’t the first to leave the party; Harvey spotted Scott and then Jenny walking off down the road while he’d sat there.
No shame in being the third, fourth, and fifth, if I don’t count Nadine and Les.
Nadine never let that man have fun, but secretly Harvey knew Les liked it. Keeping Nadine on her toes and in a state of flux was his specialty. The only thing Harvey wondered was when she’d ever give up on him, if she ever did.
Harvey snuck a peek over his shoulder at Colette. He was surprised to see a smug, spiteful glare on her face. She was no longer the drunk woman she’d appeared, striding back towards the pub door and disappearing inside. She hadn’t known he’d seen her; maybe the break-in was her revenge after all. If she was getting her own back, he’d have to keep his wits about him or he wouldn’t see it coming.
Chapter Six
Ed stepped into the cold night air and shut the door behind him. He shivered. Sitting in his friend Tom’s house for a couple of hours had been a laugh. They’d smoked some of his dope and reminisced about days gone by. It’d been fun while they were young, hanging out in bars and picking up girls, but now it was different. That seemed like a world away from Tom’s life with his sick wife.
Chantal had been stunning in her youth, and like all his mates, Ed had been jealous, but she was in love, so no one else got a look in. Tom hadn’t given her an easy life—the demon drink had grabbed him—but that was all in the past. Now it was a bit of grass and never a trip to the pub, not that Tom should with his asthma being so bad. Chantal was still stunning, even though she wouldn’t believe it. The few pounds she’d put on seemed to embarrass her, but Ed thought they made her more appealing, more of a woman.
With Chantal on his mind, he wasn’t concentrating on his surroundings. Feeling mellow, which wasn’t a bad thing since he’d gained the busted lip earlier in the evening, he navigated his way to the woods. The party was still in full swing, but that wasn’t a problem. If people were busy they wouldn’t see where he was going next. He’d heard one of his customers was camping out near the village, so it was worth seeing if he could get another sale before he went home. Anyway, he’d not seen Shane for some time, so it was good business to make sure he wasn’t g
etting his stash anywhere else.
The trees into the woods quickly blocked out the light from the lane. Ed stretched out his hands and groped forward, wishing he had a torch. He gingerly placed each foot ahead of the other. He would’ve been frustrated by now had it not been for his smoking, but it was still going to take an age to follow the route marked out by many a dog walker who’d trampled the foliage beneath their feet. Overhanging branches scratched at his face while thorns from briars tugged at his clothes.
Damn you, Shane. The little prick had better be worth it.
Shane had been avoiding him, not answering the door even though Ed knew he was in. Out here there’d be no escape, and he knew once he saw Shane he’d crumble like he always did. The man was paranoid, something about demon angels coming to get him. Ed snorted.
He’s crazy like a box of frogs.
After what seemed like forever, the trees parted into a clearing. Ed’s sight adjusted to the less intense darkness. What at first appeared to be the shape of one tent turned out to be two. His foot caught in the fabric of the second tent which had already collapsed to the ground, falling forward and landing with a thump. It knocked his breath clean out of him. Ed didn’t need to guess which one belonged to his customer. He unhooked his shoe and clambered to his feet.
Crap, the man can’t even put a tent up properly.
Ed took more care walking to the other tent. No one had stirred with the noise he’d made, so he was sure it was empty. He found the opening and unzipped the flap. He placed his hands on the canvas floor and felt around. Something plastic knocked against his fingers. Ed picked it up and pressed a button on the torch. A strong beam of light illuminated the inside of the tent.
Two backpacks sat there, and he reached for the nearest one, presuming it to be Shane’s. It was still stuffed with clothing and other camping equipment. Ed removed some of it, checking pockets as he did so. Then he slid his fingers inside and rummaged deeper into a mesh pouch. His fingertips brushed along a small plastic bag. He eased it out slowly from between the restricting fabric and held it up in the light. Shane was getting his supply from somewhere else.
The little shit. I’ll have to make him see the error of his ways.
Ed’s body tensed, the mellow mood disappearing fast. Now he knew Shane had gone elsewhere, he had to put that right. Ed pressed his lips together, thinking about where his victim would be. The pub was an obvious choice. He hadn’t gone inside earlier because he’d seen Scott hanging about and having a smoke with his mate. If Shane hadn’t seen the fight, then there was every chance of a surprise attack.
Ed slipped the bag into his jacket but left the small metal grinder he’d felt at the same time. He could hardly leave the man without a way to cut up the hash he was about to resell him. That brought a smile to his face. He was going to charge Shane double for something he’d already paid for.
Turning back to the woods, Ed was about to leave the torch behind and then thought better of it. There was no point struggling in the dark; he didn’t have long before the pub closed for the night. Even he knew about the lock-in. It was catch Shane now or go home. The journey through the woods proved to be faster now Ed could see all the things that had hindered his progress on the way in.
Crack!
He stopped mid-step. At first, he wasn’t sure he’d heard it, but he’d learnt the hard way not to leave anything to chance. He switched off the torch, plunging himself into darkness, and tried to listen. Nothing. It could’ve been an animal. There was every possibility it was, but he knew he couldn’t presume. He turned the torch back on and walked forward like he had nothing to fear. That was when a crunch up ahead came from a bush.
Shane must be coming back.
Ed decided to backpedal and take another route. That would allow the men to walk past him and he could follow them to the camp. The thought of surprising his victims quickened his pulse. He found a little off-shoot path to follow and hid in the dark, not quite believing his torchlight hadn’t already been spotted. Whoever it was kept coming. Maybe he wasn’t far enough away? Ed decided to move farther back, not wanting to be easily found.
Placing one foot behind the other, he stepped steadily backwards. He was only semi aware of where he was going, more concerned with being heard and keeping a watch on his foe. A gust of wind blew through the trees, rustling leaves and making the wildlife scamper. An owl hooted overhead before leaving its perch and flying to another destination. Ed’s nerves prickled. It seemed like nature was trying to warn him. Foreboding caressed his skin, and his knees buckled. He caught himself, one hand outstretched, clutching a tree. He didn’t believe in bad omens, but this sure felt like one.
His enemy kept coming. He sensed they strode forward, cracking twigs and sticks beneath their feet. Ed decided to find another way and would veer off at the next opportunity. His muscles ached; the burning sensations in his thighs were not what he was used to. If only they’d stop so he could circle around and come at them another way.
Screw this. I’ll take them now.
He knew Shane would be easy, but the unknown friend might be more of a challenge. Still, Ed was no stranger to that. He listened again. Why wasn’t Shane talking? The man’s constant whine could normally be heard at a distance, especially while he was stoned. Ed tightened his fists and then loosened them again. A quiver trembled in his stomach. The scenario he’d had in his head was playing out different. Maybe the weed he’d smoked with Tom was clouding his judgment.
Ed decided to be ready. He balled his hands into fists and stepped one foot back to spread his weight, bending his knees slightly. His back foot knocked into something, and it fell. Something grasped his ankle, yanking it backwards and making him do the splits. A sharp pain seared through the inside of his thighs, his head whipped forward through the dirt and leaves his foot kicked up, and he found himself propelled upside down, suspended in midair. The sudden motion winded him, whiplash cricking his neck.
Disorientation took over. His mind struggled to grasp what had just happened, his senses concentrating on how his hands smacked the cold, hard ground when his body flipped arse over tit. Panic quickly set in. He blinked rapidly, trying to get the dirt out of his eyes so he could see his surroundings. The torch had been lost and was lying somewhere close by. He was too far off the ground to feel around to find it. Without the light, he was a sitting duck, trapped and vulnerable.
I’ve got to get free.
Ed tried to bend at the waist and lift his torso towards his feet. It was harder than he thought it’d be. What he presumed must be a rope was getting tighter around his ankle. He could feel the blood supply shutting off; his toes were already going numb. As for his head, that’s where all the blood was rushing to, his pulse whooshing in his ears.
He needed support if he was going to get out of the situation. Ed thrashed his arms about to see if he could get purchase on a nearby tree, but he seemed to be dangling in the middle of a walkway. Bushes brushed against his hands. They were no use for what he needed to do. He had to lift his head up and bend at the waist again, no other option was open to him. Ed gritted his teeth. The strain of grabbing hold of his trouser leg and trying to keep himself in that position while his free hand grasped at the rope around his ankle was more than he could cope with. He gave up; he clearly wasn’t fit like he’d thought he was.
Perspiration peppered his skin. He was beginning to feel unwell. Bile escaped from his stomach and burned into his throat. Ed spat it out, trying to make the spittle shoot away from his face. His breathing eased from the effort, but he knew that wouldn’t always be the case. Hanging upside down for a long time could kill. Organs would put pressure on his lungs, making it hard to breathe. People died of asphyxiation, that’s if heart failure from it straining to pump didn’t get them first. Being older was another risk factor in how quickly he’d die. Ed was starting to freak out.
Get a grip, man.
He blew out a breath, trying to calm down. Until a thought struck him
.
What happened to that person?
Ed tried to listen above the whooshing. Someone had been coming towards him, that’s how he’d ended up in the trap. Where the hell had they gone? He turned his head, straining to see if anything stirred in the dark. Then he heard something. He tried to pivot himself in the direction of the sound. He’d been slowly rotating the whole time he’d been strung up. Part of him wanted to shout out, call for help and be released. Another part was cautious. Surely the one following him had known he was there. They must’ve noticed he’d ended up in the trap. That’s what stopped him. But then he gave in.
“Who’s there?”
No one answered. Ed put his hand in his jeans pocket. He’d forgotten about his lighter. In his eagerness he flicked his thumb on the strike to ignite the flame and burnt his fingers. The sudden smart from the hot flame caught him by surprise, and he flinched. Somehow, he didn’t drop it. He tried again, positioning his hand out of the way. For a moment he could see until the flame died.
Did something move?
He caught a noise, closer this time when he went to strike again. The tiny flame blazed in the small arc in front of him, and he squinted to make out a shape. It was a man walking towards him. The closer he came, the more Ed saw. Something glinted in the light. Ed’s eyes widened, his focus engulfed by the ornate knife, blinding his mind from thought. He struggled to tear his gaze away to see the man approaching, the grin on his face belying what he was about to do.
The swoop of the blade headed in his direction. He gasped from pain as the cold metal sliced deep into the side of his neck, the sensation replaced by hot blood pumping through his fingers while he grasped his hand to the site in a bid to stem the flow. The lighter fell from his grip, extinguishing the flame. In the dark his mind went blank. He couldn’t imagine the last things he’d seen. The red sticky liquid ran over his ear and into his hair. Death was coming quickly, and he couldn’t even think why.