The Apartment

by K. L. Slater

  Once we’re sure the Marsdens really are back inside, we continue tiptoeing up the stairs, past Lily’s apartment and up to the top floor.

  I wave my key card in front of the lock, and I hear the soft click that tells me the door is now open. Mark taps my arm and I look at his face, shadowed in the faint street light emanating from the landing window.

  ‘Who lives here?’ he whispers, jabbing a forefinger at next door.

  ‘It’s empty,’ I hiss back.

  I reach for the light switch and Mark moves to block my hand.

  ‘Not yet.’ He pushes me very gently back against the door and his fashionably stubbled cheek slightly grazes mine as I inhale the bergamot scent of his aftershave.

  For one crazy second I think he’s going to kiss me, but then I realise he’s just being cautious until he’s fully checked the place out.

  ‘Wait here,’ he says gruffly. ‘Never know who might be watching.’

  I shiver at the thought and slip off my shoes. I put down my handbag by the door and watch as Mark inches silently down the hall, close to the wall.

  He slips inside Skye’s room. ‘Make us a drink and I’ll knock on the wall when I want you to come in,’ he whispers, pushing the bedroom door closed behind him.

  I go to the kitchen and stick the kettle on. I’m not sure whether Mark is expecting a wine or a beer, but it’s strong coffee I think we both need.

  After about a minute, there’s a soft tapping on the wall. I turn the kitchen light off and step into the hallway again. Skye’s door opens and Mark beckons me in, signalling for me to stick close to the wall when I’m in there, which is strange.

  I tiptoe inside the room in my sock feet, huddling close to the cool plaster.

  I stand next to him, and weirdly, he doesn’t move but stares at the wall at the bottom of Skye’s bed. I open my mouth to ask what I should be looking at, but he’s so focused I just follow his stare instead.

  He seems to be interested in the bookshelves that run along the wall above Skye’s toy box. She loves reading and was pleased when she saw the bookshelves already fitted there.

  They’re packed to the rafters with all her favourite books, different shapes and sizes and all well read.

  It looks like any standard kid’s bedroom; nice enough but not something I want to stare at for much longer.

  Mark tugs at my elbow and I take one step to the right and he points at the bookshelves again. I sigh, shift my weight to the other foot, and just as I’m about to turn to him to ask what I’m supposed to be looking at, I see it.

  The tiniest red flash, so minute and quick, it’s almost invisible.

  My mouth falls open and I stand staring until about five seconds later, when it flashes again. ‘What the . . .’

  I stagger back slightly and Mark steadies me, points at Skye’s small painted chair that’s directly behind me. I sit down heavily on it, trying to sort through the implications of what I’m seeing . . . what someone has done . . .

  I feel as if I’m watching down a tunnel as Mark turns on the torch on his phone and lies sideways on the floor, sweeping the light underneath my daughter’s bed and then up at the springs and the mattress.

  The phone flashes and I realise he’s taking pictures of something under there.

  Still sitting on the chair, I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. I can’t process the terrible thoughts filling my head.

  Someone has been spying on my daughter?

  Revulsion washes over me and I feel dirty on the inside. If I scrubbed myself from head to foot with bleach I still couldn’t feel clean.

  What is this place? How can I have put my daughter in so much danger? I should never have come back here. Brenna would have packed up our things.

  I’m shivering and my skin feels clammy.

  ‘I want to get Skye from downstairs and get out of here,’ I whisper.

  Mark clambers to his feet and helps me stand up, leading me out of the room without speaking. In the lounge, he sits me down. The room is still dark with the lights off and I can only see him when he comes really close. Close enough to feel his breath on my cheek.

  ‘Sit here while I check out the other rooms and I’ll do this one last,’ Mark says gently. ‘When I know exactly what we’re up against, we’ll call the police and get out of here.’

  ‘Skye’s with Lily,’ I manage. ‘I have to get her, have to know she’s safe, before we do anything else.’

  ‘Course.’ He nods. ‘We can get her back as soon as I’ve checked the other rooms.’

  Mark leaves the lounge again and I sit in the silence, in the dark, trying to make sense of it all. I think about Audrey asking me, so matter-of-fact, if it was OK for the security camera to be installed. I hadn’t been happy and said so, but I never, for a minute, suspected it would lead to any of this.

  She must have arranged for all the other spy devices to be fitted at the same time . . . when we were in the garden, perhaps, and everyone was being so nice.

  Maybe they’re monitoring everyone who lives here. Even Lily, who’s lived here for a long time. If she wants him to, Mark could check her place out, too, while he’s here.

  I really felt Audrey had let down her steely defences with me. And all the time, it must’ve been part of the act.

  I’ve been naïve, a pushover. I’ve been such a trusting fool.

  46

  Mark comes back in the lounge and cases around the walls. I don’t watch him, I feel if I move my head an inch, I’ll be sick.

  All I want now is to get Skye and get out of this hellhole. Mark sits down next to me on the couch and I open my eyes.

  ‘OK, there’s nothing in here, nothing in your bedroom. The only room that’s been fitted out with surveillance is Skye’s bedroom. So far as I can tell, there’s nothing anywhere else.’

  ‘Dear God.’ I choke back tears. ‘Spying on a tiny girl . . . Marsden must be a pervert . . . and Audrey knew about all this, I’m certain of it.’

  ‘Only the worst kind of people could even think of doing this.’ Mark shudders and falls silent for a second, his expression grim. ‘Listen, Freya. I need to tell you exactly what I found. There’s a camera fitted into a fake book casing on the shelves and . . .’ His voice falters.

  ‘Go on,’ I say fearfully, steeling myself.

  ‘There’s a recording device secured under the bed.’

  ‘What?’ I clench my fist and bite my knuckle hard. ‘What would they be recording, me reading her a bedtime story? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘You misunderstand me,’ Mark says gently, shaking his head. ‘It’s the sort that plays recordings into the room.’

  ‘Huh?’ And then it hits me.

  The voices, the crying child . . . Skye’s troubling dreams.

  I jump up and run over to the sink just in time, turning on the tap full pelt to wash down the vomit.

  Mark hands me some kitchen roll.

  ‘Let’s leave it there, I can fill you in with the rest when you’re—’

  ‘No! I want to know everything right now. Tell me everything.’

  ‘Well, from what I can tell by a quick survey of the wiring, it’s clear that all the data is being beamed next door.’

  ‘The empty apartment?’

  He nods. ‘Someone is using it as a kind of spy HQ. It’s like you and Skye are part of someone’s sick experiment.’

  ‘We have to call the police.’ My stomach is still churning, wanting to retch even though there’s nothing left in there. ‘I just need to know Skye is OK. Lily can keep her until we’ve told the police, but I want to see her first.’

  Mark nods. ‘Why don’t you go downstairs now and get Skye? Act as normally as you can. I wouldn’t say anything to Lily yet until I’ve got access to next door to see the full extent of it all before anyone else gets involved . . . We don’t want to tip them off.’

  I nod but don’t know how calm I’ll remain when Lily answers her door. I feel like screaming the place down right n
ow, letting everyone know the full horror of Michael and Audrey Marsden’s wicked existence.

  I walk towards the door. My head is swimming, my heart feels raw.

  ‘Freya?’ I turn around to face Mark. ‘When you get back up here after checking on Skye, we’ll ring the police, OK? This will all soon be over.’

  ‘OK,’ I whisper, feeling so grateful I’ve got someone like Mark onside.

  47

  When I leave the apartment to walk down to Lily’s, Mark takes a tool and starts prodding at the handle of the apartment door next to ours.

  ‘Any luck, I’ll have this open in no time,’ he says as I pass him on the landing.

  The thought of the Marsdens sitting in there watching my daughter makes me feel sick to my stomach. But I have to get past that and try to think clearly. I push the thoughts aside. My priority now is to get her back safely in my arms. Nothing else really matters.

  Lily is perceptive. When she called earlier today, she could tell right away there was something wrong with me. It’s going to be hard not to tell her the horror of what Mark has uncovered, but the time isn’t right now. The main thing is to get Skye and then let the police know what’s been happening here.

  I knock on Lily’s door and when there’s no answer, I knock again and wait. Nothing. I knock harder.

  No answer. I feel a heat rash break out around my collarbone.

  Maybe they’re out in the garden.

  I rush downstairs and out of the front door, leaving it wide open behind me. I can hear the sound of traffic passing by on the top road. I’m in my own little bubble of horror just paces away from where people are leisurely driving home, taking a walk through the park, or just out for the evening.

  And I can’t find my daughter in a house I can never think of as home again. ‘Skye!’ I shout before I even round the corner of the building. ‘Where are you?’

  Birds whistle and the whisper of a warm breeze caresses my damp hands. But my daughter doesn’t answer.

  There’s no one out there.

  And then I hear a whimper. I rush down the garden. ‘Skye! Where are you?’

  A small white face appears from the bushes, and I gasp with relief that I’ve found her and then . . . I see it’s not my daughter at all.

  ‘Susan!’

  Her face is tear-stained, her hair wild. She staggers towards me, her bony arms outstretched, the sleeveless cotton dress she’s wearing hanging like a shroud on her skeletal body.

  ‘Susan, have you seen Skye? She’s missing . . . has she been out here in the garden?’

  ‘Get away from this place, Freya. Take your daughter.’ She wails. ‘Get out now!’

  ‘Come inside,’ I tell her, backing away. ‘Where’s your husband? You shouldn’t be out here alone.’

  I turn on my heel and run back up to the house. I feel a twist of guilt but can’t stop and talk to poor Susan, I have to carry on searching. My head is pounding now. Where is Skye? Where’s Lily?

  I know everyone dislikes Lily, but would the Marsdens be prepared to hurt her to get to Skye?

  As I run back towards the entrance of the house, I think about Mark’s words of advice: act normally. It’s an impossible ask. What is he discovering this very second in the empty apartment next door to ours on the top floor? I want him down here, helping me find Skye. I want to call the police right now but my phone is somewhere in the apartment.

  Back inside I leave the front door open and run to the corner of the foyer, pushing away the potted ferns that hamper my progress. I hammer on the Marsdens’ apartment door with both hands, I ring the doorbell and rattle the brass lion’s head.

  I listen. Silence.

  ‘Mark!’ I howl at the bottom of the stairs. ‘Call the police.’ Back at number one, I hammer again. I kick the door.

  Nothing from Mark. Not a sound in the house. I might as well be alone in here. I’m thinking through fog, my whole body is trembling.

  Run next door . . . get them to call the police.

  I’m about to turn to dash out of the building again and then I hear it, a scuffling noise behind the door. The sound of bolts being slid back, and I take a step away as the door finally opens.

  And suddenly, I’m face to face with Dr Michael Marsden.

  ‘Where’s my daughter? What have you done with her . . . and with Lily?’ He doesn’t respond, his face impassive.

  ‘I know what you’ve been up to . . . it’s illegal, what you’re doing. You can’t—’

  ‘Please, Freya. Calm down.’

  His manner both infuriates and terrifies me. I back away from the door.

  ‘Mark! ’ I screech his name at the top of my voice and start to run upstairs. ‘Mark, call the police!’

  ‘Freya, stop!’ Marsden finally calls to me. I ignore him and keep bounding upstairs, two steps at a time. Downstairs, I hear the front door I left wide open slam closed.

  I stop outside Lily’s door again.

  Bang-bang-bang.

  Nothing. Maybe she took her out for a walk . . . maybe they’re at the park!

  In the dark?

  It could be an adventure. It’s the sort of thing Lily would love to do, I’m sure. The fact this only just occurs to me slows me down. Skye could be perfectly safe with her and on her way back home right now.

  Up on the top floor, I see the empty apartment door is still closed. It doesn’t look like Mark managed to get in there after all.

  I rush towards my open apartment door.

  ‘Mark! Didn’t you hear me shouting? Have you called the police? Skye’s not there, but maybe she’s at the park, we need to—’

  He’s not in the lounge or the bedrooms. My apartment is empty. Where the hell is Mark?

  48

  I turn my handbag upside down to save hunting through for my phone, but it’s not there. I can’t remember taking it out, but I rush into the kitchen and search the worktop.

  It’s not here either.

  ‘This is crazy!’ I yell out loud, thumping the work surface and hurting my hand. My voice seems to echo, magnifying the emptiness of the entire house.

  Where’s my phone? Where are Skye and Lily? Where the hell is Mark? Where is everyone?

  It occurs to me that Mark himself suggested I go downstairs to pick up Skye from Lily’s.

  At the time, it seemed the sensible thing to do. I wanted her back with me where I knew she’d be safe, but now I can’t help wondering, did Mark want to get rid of me for some reason? Or maybe he ran for help when I went out into the garden.

  I don’t know. I’m not thinking straight, suspecting everyone because my trust has been broken in so many ways.

  The one thing I know for sure is that I just need to find my daughter. Nothing else matters.

  I take off downstairs again, slipping and sliding down part of the flight. I bang on apartment five on the second floor and then on Lily’s door again as I pass.

  ‘Someone help me!’ I yell out at the top of my voice into the silent building. ‘Help!’

  Downstairs in the foyer, I lurch at the door, aiming to pull it open like I did before. Except this time it doesn’t open. I twist the latch and pull, but it’s somehow locked fast and solid. It won’t budge.

  I howl like a trapped animal.

  ‘Skye!’ I scream to emptiness. ‘Someone, call the police!’

  You need to get out.

  Linda’s words reverberate around my skull. Oh God, now I wish with all my heart I’d listened to her and left immediately with Skye.

  Everything that’s happened . . . the noises, the unexplained movement of furniture and toys, the strange behaviour of the residents here, the CCTV camera inside the apartment to name but a few.

  What the hell was I thinking of? Putting my daughter in danger, overlooking the freakiest of things just so we can live here at this address for a cheap rent.

  Is it pride that’s made me overlook the obvious?

  I pick up the chair in the foyer and hurl it at the stained-glass panel o
n the right side of the door. It bounces back.

  I sink to the floor, sobbing. I’m a prisoner. I can’t escape this place . . . What the hell can I do to get my daughter back?

  ‘Freya?’ Audrey stands at the bottom of the stairs, speaking my name in her horrible, creepy low voice.

  I stand up, ball my fists.

  ‘You!’ I bare my teeth and take a step forward, my distress suddenly gone. Instead I’m filled with a seething mass of fury that’s telling me she knows exactly where my daughter is. ‘Where is Skye?’

  She holds her palms up to ward me off. ‘You have to calm down, Freya.’

  ‘Tell me where she is!’ I screech and leap towards her. In the red mist I see a flash of skin, and two strong hands grab my forearms.

  ‘Freya, Freya! It’s me, Dr Marsden!’ He sounds hoarse and panicked but is trying to keep his voice down.

  ‘Get. Off. Me!’ I struggle but he’s stronger than I expected and he holds me fast.

  ‘Do you want to see your daughter again?’ he hisses, and that cuts through the red mist. I feel myself deflate in his arms.

  Audrey steps closer, her perfume overpowering at such a short distance. This is it. This is where I become their next Sophie.

  And yet . . . Do you want to see your daughter again? That means there’s hope, doesn’t it? If I play along and do as they ask, I can fool them into thinking I’m under their control.

  I breathe again. It feels true to me. It feels like I can do it.

  ‘That’s better,’ Audrey says in a sickeningly soothing way like I’m a child. It’s all I can do not to slap her away when she strokes my arm and sets my clammy skin crawling.

  Marsden lets go of me and flexes his fingers like they’ve seized up.

  He looks at me, his face drawn and pale. In the dim light without the hall lamp, shadows play around his features, reducing his eyes to dark pools of nothingness.

  ‘If you can stay calm, we can go upstairs,’ Audrey whispers. ‘We can see Skye.’

  ‘She’s not up there,’ I hiss, trying, for the sake of my plan, to appear calm. ‘Mark and Lily have gone, too. What have you done with them all?’