by K Pierce
Sighing, she picked up her book, but every time she started reading her mind wandered to places she didn’t want it to go; forcing her to read the same line several times and still not knowing what it said. She stared at the pages, words bleeding into each other, until she threw it on the coffee table in frustration.
Quinn let out a surprise yelp and shot across the room. ‘Sorry mate, I didn’t realise you were under there.’ He gave her a slow blink and jumped onto the edge of the sofa.
Emily picked up the remote and flicked on the television. She felt so restless and so lethargic at the same time. She switched from channel to channel until she found an old rom-com and then settled down to watch.
The credits were rolling when she opened her eyes. She glanced at the clock; just over an hour’s sleep wasn’t bad. Rolling her shoulder, she was just about to get up and make a drink when Quinn let out a low growl. Emily froze. The cat’s ears were flat and the fur on his back stood to attention.
Emily tapped the mute button on the remote. The house was silent. Quinn growled again and Emily’s pulse kicked up a few notches. Straining to hear anything over the thumping of her fear in her ears Emily jumped when the phone rang, shrill and loud in the still air. She briefly considered answering but the machine clicked in and an automated voice advised whoever was on the other end to leave a message.
Dear Customer, our records indicate…
Emily let out a strained laugh. Bloody cold callers. She ran a hand over her face and tried to slow her hammering heartbeat. She looked at Quinn, but he hadn’t moved, and his eyes were fixed on the hallway.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and stood, wincing at the aches in her tired body. She gripped the door handle with a clammy hand. Quinn made a low strangled sound behind her and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled to life. She turned the handle and froze. Nothing moved. She eased the door open, glad of the thick carpeting beneath her feet that muffled any sound. Taking a deep breath Emily peered around the door frame in time to see a figure through the frosted glass of the front door. She almost shrieked when the letter box clattered, and a bundle of mail dropped onto the door mat. A sob of relief escaped her throat when the person disappeared, and she stepped quietly down the hall to collect it. Bending to pick it up she winced at the loud yowl from the living room. Tutting, she turned, ‘Quinn what is –’
There was a man in the hallway.
Emily stood there staring at him. He stared back. There was something familiar about him, but her brain wouldn’t work past the fear she felt enveloping her. Her chest tightened, and her vision narrowed. No! She tried to slow her breathing just like Nat had shown her. Now was not the time for an attack, not when she was already so vulnerable.
She took a step backwards and found herself pressed against the cool front door. Exhaling slowly, she felt her chest loosen and her vision widen a little. There was no way she could unlock and open the door before he got to her. The stairs were her only option. She braced against the door, ready to hurl herself in that direction.
‘Don’t.’ He said calmly. ‘You won’t make it.’
Emily stayed silent, certain that the words wouldn’t get through her closed throat even if she knew what to say, and more than a little unnerved that he could read her so easily.
‘You stood me up. Cheated even. We had a date and you were with another man.’ He rubbed a massive hand across the back of his neck and took a deep breath. ‘I knew you weren’t really a lesbian. I knew it was a phase. Never mind.’ He smiled. A bright, toothy smile that showed off the dimples in his cheeks. ‘We can just start over.’
Emily’s mind was racing. Her legs felt like lead and she was trembling. Her gaze flicked to the stairs, but the man stepped towards her, stopping near the bottom of the bannister. Emily’s heart sank.
‘Come on. Let’s grab a drink, like we were supposed to. You might actually enjoy yourself.’
Movement behind him caught Emily’s eye. Quinn sauntered up the hall and stopped behind the man’s left leg. He let out a loud meow. The man ignored him. He yowled again. The man turned slightly and nudged the cat with his foot. ‘Shut it.’ He turned back to Emily and opened his mouth just as Quinn launched himself up the man’s back, using his claws to pull himself up his torso. The man howled in pain and frantically swiped at the cat.
Emily used the distraction to launch herself up the stairs. There was a thud and a pained meow from behind her and then heavy footsteps pounded below her. She’d just reached the top step when she felt a hand around her ankle and her legs were pulled out from beneath her. The wooden floor of the landing rushed up to meet her face. The crack was sickening. Everything went hazy, then black.
25.
Nat clung to the door handle as the car flew through early evening traffic. The siren was too loud and grating, but she’d learned a long time ago to tune it out. Listening instead to Ryan in the back frantically calling for back up. Barry’s knuckles were white against the steering wheel as he negotiated the least treacherous route to Nat’s house. She was still pissed at him for not letting her drive.
‘Come on, come on.’ She muttered as another oblivious driver refused to move and blocked their path. She tried Emily’s phone a few times but there was no answer.
Barry swung around the corner into Nat’s road and almost took out Mrs Goldberg from number 23, her Chihuahua yipping frantically as they sped past. Slamming on the brakes they half slid up Nat’s driveway. She was unbuckled and out of the car first. She sprinted to the front door, her boots noisy on the gravel. She tested the handle, unsure whether to feel relieved when she found it locked.
Ryan was peering in through her lounge window, hands cupped to the side of his face. ‘TV’s on but there’s no sign of Emily.’
Nat handed Barry her keys and gestured round the back. He nodded. ‘We don’t know if he’s in there or not.’ he said quietly.
‘He knows where I live, and he knows I’m not there.’ Nat’s voice sounded odd to her own ears. The more she talked the more frantic she became. ‘I should’ve made her come with me. He’d have been watching. He’d know she was alone. We both know that now’s the time he’d make his move.’
Barry placed his hands gently on her shoulders. ‘Nat just take a breath.’ When she did as he asked, he continued, ‘We don’t know anything for sure. Wait for back up. If he is, he could be armed or holding her hostage and we don’t want to go in half-cocked.’
‘And if he’s not in there? If he’s already-’ Nat’s voice broke.
‘We’ll deal with it. Wait for back up.’
Nat moved silently against the wall and peered around the corner of the house but saw nothing amiss. Her shovel was still propped against the small shed in the corner, there was an axe next to her woodpile, and the back door was closed. She dropped under the dining room window and duck-walked to the door, picking up the axe on her way past. Sitting on her haunches Nat tried to ignore the fact that she was only inches away from the door, possibly only feet away from Emily. Time ticked by so slowly. Where the hell is armed response?
A siren wailed in the distance. That was good enough for her. She tried the door handle. Click. She cursed, remembering that she was the one who’d been too distracted to lock it. She eased the door open and stepped into the kitchen. The clock on the wall sounded too loud in the silence. Her hand felt clammy against the cold wooden handle of the axe. She moved towards the living room, jumping when she heard the armed response unit breach the front door. There were heavy footsteps on the stairs and an officer behind her shouting at her to get on the ground.
‘I’m with you!’ She shouted back, dropping the axe onto the carpet and raising her hands.
‘Nat?’ Barry’s voice came from the hallway. He pushed through the doorway. ‘It’s ok, she’s with me.’ The officer behind her turned back into the kitchen.
Nat clicked off the TV. ‘Clear in here.’ She said.
‘I told you to wait.’
‘Th
ey were practically here.’ She argued.
‘And if it had been him behind you before they got here?’
‘But it wasn’t.’
‘I’m warning you, Natalie.’ Barry stared hard at her and she thought he might say more. Instead his features softened, he gestured to the hallway, ‘You’d better come here.’
Nat’s heart skipped a few beats and her legs went weak at the tone in Barry’s voice. She stepped out into the hallway. There was movement upstairs as armed officers checked each room. Barry was crouched by the front door.
‘What?’ She asked.
He shifted to the side, allowing Nat a view of the ball of unmoving ginger fur on hall floor.
‘Quinn!’ She knelt beside him and reached out to touch him. He let out a low cry and took a weak swipe at her hand.
The sound of brakes screeching and pounding footsteps sounded beyond the front door. ‘Circus is here.’ Barry put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I’ll get one of them to run him to the vet, looks like his back leg might be broken.’
‘Guys.’ They turned as one and looked up at Ryan. He was stood halfway up the stairs. ‘She’s gone, and I’ve got blood.’
***
Nat wasn’t sure how long it took to clear them all out of her house. The hall and stairs, as well as all entry points had been processed for fingerprints, DNA and any other evidence they could find. Quinn had been rushed to the vets and was now, according to a phone call from the surgery, stable and grumpy. His leg had been broken and he had a concussion but was expected to make a full recovery. During his initial examination, the nurses had found blood on his front claws but no obvious wounds. They’d collected clippings and sent them off for testing.
It had taken all of Barry’s authority, and a little physical restraint to stop Nat from going to look for Emily herself. They’d argued until Barry reassured Nat that several small groups of officers were out looking and since they had no idea where to look, she was more useful to him here.
Now the three of them sat in Nat’s living room. Ryan was the first to speak. ‘Why not just kill her here?’
‘He likes to take his time.’ Barry said quietly. ‘He couldn’t be sure that Nat, or someone else, wouldn’t turn up and ruin his…’ He trailed off.
‘There was supposed to be someone outside.’ Nat ground out. ‘Where was the protective detail?’
‘I spoke to her myself. She saw nobody come in or leave. Forensics checked the garden and found disturbances in the soil. They think he took a fence panel out and put it back when he had her in his vehicle. There’s tyre tracks in the grass on the field behind you but we lost them once they hit the road.’ Barry gave her a sympathetic look. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry? Sorry isn’t going to get her back. Why did we not put someone around the back of my fucking house?’ Nat raged.
‘He’s never taken anyone from a house before Nat. We didn’t even know that he knew she was here. You live in the arse end of nowhere and even I didn’t know you could reach your garden through those fields!’ Barry ran a hand across his face, the strain of his responsibilities and having two young babies at home was beginning to show. ‘Pointing the finger won’t get us anywhere. We made a mistake. A really big, fucking mistake.’
‘A mistake that we need to fix. Now.’ Nat got up and went into the kitchen. When she came back she was holding a map and a packet of felt tip pens. She spread the map across the coffee table and marked out their previous crime scenes, their victims, hers and Emily’s houses and places of work in different colours.
‘He knows the area, obviously.’ Ryan said.
‘I think he’s local.’ Nat said. ‘That field behind these houses are where we all used to hang out after school. The brook that runs through it ends at a fishing pond and there’s an old stone barn out there that’s been a meeting place for teenagers and underage drinkers for as long as I can remember. It’s only accessible off a dirt road though, not somewhere a sat nav would take you or that you’d come upon by chance.
Barry shifted to the edge of his seat and regarded the map. ‘I agree that he’s from around here, or at least he’s spent some time here.’ He pointed to the map.
‘Anyone with a car, Google Earth and some free time can get around under the radar these days though.’ Ryan cut in.
Nat looked up. ‘Free time?’
‘Yeah, he’d have to hang around at different times of the day to be sure that places really are quiet enough for him to use, especially the slaughterhouse. You said it yourself kids hang around those places all the time, not to mention the farm is a working farm. He would’ve had to have known that they weren’t using that field.’
Barry laughed. ‘You two are assuming that this guy actually cares. So far all he’s proven to me is that he’s an arrogant arsehole who doesn’t give a shit whether these girls are found or not. If he has time to do what he wants to do with them and enough time and breathing room to get away, then I don’t think he’s really bothered. He’s a psycho who does what he wants, when he wants and believes he’s untouchable.’
‘Back up.’ Nat said.
‘What?’
‘He does what he wants, when he wants. He has free time.’ She said looking at the map. ‘He obviously has transport.’
Ryan frowned. ‘What are you getting at?’
‘Think about it. He has the time to get to know all these women, meet up, rape and murder them and just come and go as he pleases, so how is he funding this little lifestyle of his? He either lives alone or is with someone completely oblivious to his habits.’
‘A lot of spouses don’t know what’s going on with their other half.’ There was an edge to Ryan’s voice. ‘But you have a point. So, we’re saying he’s unemployed? Self-employed?’
‘Either, or.’ Nat said. ‘A regular full-time job wouldn’t allow him to move as freely as he does or let him get to know an area. Someone would notice something amiss.’
‘Maybe.’ Ryan didn’t sound convinced. ‘A lot of places use shift patterns, which would allow him the freedom he’d need to scope somewhere out at different times. My ex managed to have a full-blown affair for a year and a half and disguised it as work.’ His face twisted into a sneer and his words dripped with bitterness. Nat realised that she’d never seen that side of him before. She watched as his face relaxed and he shrugged. ‘Or then again, he could just have money. Comes from a wealthy family.’
Barry stood and grabbed his jacket. ‘Valid points. I’ll have someone check out the job centre as soon as it opens and get someone on wealthy families in the area, see if anyone pops up that’s worth a second look.’
Nat followed them into the hallway and shrugged on her own coat.
Barry glanced at his watch. ‘It’s late. Where are you going?’
‘To get her back.’
26.
Emily was cold, shivering and sore. She lay on what felt like concrete and her joints made her painfully aware of it. Keeping her eyes closed she listened for signs of life. There was only the sound of her own terrified breathing and her heartbeat thumping in her ears. She cracked an eye lid and was partially relieved to be surrounded by darkness. Rolling gingerly onto her back she tried to shake out the pins and needles she had from lying on her hand. The movement caused her to wince. Her head was pounding, her face tight and crusted over with what she assumed was blood from hitting Nat’s floor face first. Her hips and thighs were stiff and sore. Everything from the waist down felt tender and raw. Emily tried not to think about what that meant but couldn’t stop a lone tear from slipping down her cheek. She couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t already dead. From what Nat had told her the other girls were killed relatively quickly. Not that she was complaining.
She reached out with her arms and felt the area around her. A snow angel without the snow. She almost laughed at the absurdity. Her fingertips brushed a thin layer of dirt and what felt a little like hay. Emily turned her head, first to the right and then to the left, wincing agai
n at the pain slicing through her temple.
To her left there was a tiny sliver of faint grey light and she guessed that there was a door of some kind over that way. She took a deep breath and pushed herself slowly into a sitting position. Nausea crashed over her in a wave and she leaned over and retched quietly. She wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her hoody and listened intently. Everything was still. Ignoring the protests of her body and the tiny stones that scraped her fingertips she crept along the floor towards the tiny crack of light.
The cool night breeze met her as she got close. She reached out and felt the solid wood of a door. Lying flat against the icy floor she tried to see out of the gap beneath it. The glow of the moon illuminated grass just beyond the doorway but little else.
Emily struggled to her feet and began to feel her way around the room. Her thin socks did nothing to protect her feet from the cold or the debris that littered the floor, and she swore softly when a sharp stone stabbed her in the toe. When she’d hobbled the perimeter of the room she crossed from side to side in as straight a line as she could. It was a square room, made of stone, and had only one door. An outhouse of some kind judging from the temperature. No windows. No escape.
Emily’s chest began to tighten. She was struggling to breathe. Sliding down the wall furthest away from the door she allowed herself to cry, to wallow in the misery of her situation. Then the frustration at the unfairness of it all took over and anger began to simmer inside her. How dare this man violate her! How dare he come in and turn her life upside down for his own sick fun!
She went to the door and pulled hard on the handle. It didn’t budge. She shoved against it with her shoulder, but it stood firm. She felt her way around it. Wooden slats, handle, hinges, no key hole. She got to her knees, hooked her fingers under the edge of the door and yanked again. The wood groaned but didn’t move. She tried again, splinters digging painfully into her hands. Again, it creaked but stayed put.