‘But then he saw that damn photograph you have in the living room and rang me, addressing me by my rank and name. The plan had been for him to cash in the shares when the price rose and disappear. But the damn shares didn’t rise, they fell when the merger was delayed.
‘He wasn’t happy but neither was I. I didn’t know the idiot had put his damn photo on that fake website. And thanks to you giving it to the police, I knew it wouldn’t have been long before they identified him and brought him in. He’d have rushed to trade information for a lighter sentence and would have been delighted to have told them that DI Ballantyne was taking backhanders.’
Melanie tried to stay calm. Who was this monster she’d called a friend? Her eyes flicked to the clock. Five past seven. Wasn’t it bloody typical of the agent to be late? Maybe, her heart sank, he wasn’t going to come at all. She was fit and strong and she supposed there’d be an adrenaline rush if she was fighting for her life but she couldn’t compete with the knife. The blade might not be long but it was obviously sharp.
When her eyes went back to the clock, Caitlin looked at her with a suspicious frown. ‘Why do you keep looking at the time?’
Melanie didn’t have to answer because the doorbell rang. She should have screamed, but stupidly she hesitated long enough to give Caitlin enough time to slap a hand over her mouth, pressing so hard Melanie felt her teeth bruise her gums. She would have tried to squirm free but she felt the chill of the knife blade scrape her neck.
‘Not a word, not even a whimper or I’ll slit your throat,’ Caitlin snapped. ‘Okay, who is it?’ Removing her hand, she kept the knife pressed to her throat. ‘Answer me.’
Melanie swallowed, trying to lubricate a suddenly dust-dry throat. ‘It’s an estate agent. I’m putting the apartment on the market. I arranged for him to call at seven.’
Caitlin growled as the doorbell chimed once more. ‘He’ll go away if it’s not answered.’
‘I told him I wanted it sold as soon as possible. I stressed the urgency of it. He might get suspicious if I don’t answer. He might even worry that I’ve harmed myself and call the police.’
‘Yes, like they’re going to rush out because a doorbell isn’t answered,’ Caitlin said with heavy sarcasm but there was a hint of doubt in her eyes. When the doorbell sounded yet again moments later, she nudged Melanie’s arm none too gently. ‘Okay, put the chain on the door, then open it and tell him you’ve changed your mind. I’ll be right behind you. If I hear the merest whisper of anything untoward, I’ll drag him in and kill him, do you understand? Or do you want to be responsible for another man’s death?’
‘I understand.’
‘Good, now get up.’ The knife was moved from Melanie’s neck to her back. She could feel the point of it stabbing through her shirt, a stinging sensation that said it had also pierced skin.
She moved jerkily, feeling a trickle of blood run down her back as the knife pressed harder. The doorbell rang again. He was being surprisingly persistent; she must have made her case more strongly that she’d thought or maybe it was that he really needed the commission. Her fingers fumbled with the safety chain, sliding it into place.
‘Remember, I’m listening to every word,’ Caitlin whispered, the knife pressing home her meaning.
Biting back a gasp of pain, Melanie nodded and pulled the door open, the safety chain halting movement within a couple of inches. ‘Hi,’ she said, the sound coming out as a pathetic squeak. She coughed to clear her throat and tried again. ‘Hi,’ she said more firmly. ‘Listen, I’m really sorry but I’ve changed my mind.’ Through the narrow gap, she could just about see him. He didn’t seem too surprised despite his determined bell-ringing.
‘Fine,’ he said, reaching to hand her his card. ‘If you change your mind, give me a shout, okay?’
It seemed the easiest thing to do, to take the damn card and send him safely on his way. ‘Thank you, I’ll certainly contact you if I change my mind and sorry again for dragging you he–’ The door banging shut cut off her words, almost catching fingers that pulled back in time, the agent’s card clutched between them. Feeling the press of the knife, she said nothing. They waited for a few seconds until they heard the distinct sound of receding footsteps.
‘Right, inside,’ Caitlin said.
In the kitchen, Melanie was pushed roughly into a chair. ‘Don’t move.’ Caitlin grabbed a glass from the counter and turned on the tap.
Melanie would have tried to run but with the safety chain on the front door, that exit was closed to her. She’d be caught before she managed to open the door and Caitlin had already shown she wasn’t averse to using the knife. Melanie turned the agent’s card over in her fingers, jumping when a glass was slammed onto the table in front of her.
‘It’s time,’ Caitlin said. ‘I’m getting bored now.’
Melanie gulped. ‘I need to use the loo.’ When her request was met by an arched eyebrow, she looked down at the card in her hand. ‘If I’m going to die, at least let me die with some dignity. I need to wee, if I don’t go now… well, you know what will happen. I don’t want my body lying in waste until it’s found.’
Ignoring her, Caitlin gathered the pills into a neat pile. ‘They’re small, there won’t be any problem in swallowing them.’
Her voice was kindly, reassuring even. It made Melanie shiver. ‘Please,’ she said, stretching a hand pleadingly across the table towards her, ‘I really need–’
‘Shut up,’ Caitlin snarled, her hand slapping the table so hard that the pills jumped and spread out. With a grunt, she gathered them together again with both hands and pushed them across the table. Melanie’s hand was still stretched towards her, Caitlin sat back and looked at it as if considering the request.
When she picked up the knife, Melanie thought she was going to say yes, and use it as before to ensure her compliance as she went to the bathroom. Nothing could have prepared her for the suddenness of what happened next. In one smooth motion, and without the slightest change in her expression, Caitlin lunged with the knife and drove the point deep into the open beseeching palm, impaling Melanie’s hand on the wood of the table beneath.
For the briefest of moments, the shock of the act numbed her. Dragging her eyes from Caitlin’s fixed expression of disinterest, Melanie looked down to where blood was pooling in the palm of her hand. Searing pain shot from the wound and darted up her arm. She cried out, a scream of pain, terror and hopelessness as she stared at the hand that still clasped the knife handle. Caitlin was looking at her with a slight smile as if she were amused at Melanie’s predicament. The smile turned mean and Melanie felt her gut clench as the knife moved. She thought it was going to be pulled out and braced herself for that but instead, it was twisted, first one way, then the other. Melanie screamed again, the agony unbearable.
Only then did Caitlin remove the knife.
Melanie dropped the card she’d been holding, grabbed her injured hand and watched as blood oozed out from between her fingers to drip onto her lap.
‘Now you know what real pain is like,’ Caitlin said, standing up and using the knife to indicate that Melanie follow suit. ‘You can use the bathroom but keep that memory in the front of your mind. There’ll be lots more if you try anything stupid.’
Melanie wasn’t sure she could stand. The pain… she’d never felt anything like it. But she had to get up. It was her only chance. Staggering to her feet, she swayed a little, feeling weak and dizzy. She pressed her injured hand, the pain intensifying and focusing her, anger giving her strength. Leaving a trail of blood as she walked and ignoring the knife pressed to her back, she made it across the room into the hallway. The pain in her hand was intense. At the doorway of the bathroom, she reached out with her bloodstained uninjured hand and grasped the door frame.
‘Get a move on,’ Caitlin said.
Melanie pushed away and grasped the edge of the door. Inside, her attempt to shut it was stopped by the knife jabbing the wood inches from her fingers.
; ‘Seriously,’ Caitlin said, pulling the knife out and waving it in front of Melanie. ‘You think I’m going to let you shut yourself in there and put me to the trouble of having to break the door down. Do you really want that?’
‘I can’t go with you looking at me. Please, close it over a little.’ Melanie’s voice was pleading, ending in a sob.
‘You’re such a pathetic, stupid cow.’ Caitlin pulled the door towards her a little. ‘Hurry up and have your piss, I’m getting bored.’
It was now or never. Taking Caitlin by surprise, Melanie shoved the door shut with all her remaining strength, ignoring the pain in her hand as her blood-slippery fingers fumbled with the lock, desperately trying to twist it as she heard a howl of anger from the other side and the door tremble as Caitlin threw herself against it. The click that told her the lock was engaged was almost lost in the screams of outrage.
‘I’m going to cut you to pieces when I drag you out of there!’
Melanie sat on the edge of the bath, her eyes glued to the door as it was bombarded from the other side, the door shuddering with each blow. It wouldn’t hold much longer, they weren’t designed to protect against such rage, such ferocity. But she needed another minute. A savage yell preceded the next stronger blow and to her horror she saw the wood around the lock splinter. She climbed into the bath, no logic in the move, just sheer desperation, the pain in her hand vanishing in the all-consuming terror that one more determined push by Caitlin would send the door flying open.
And then, she thought she heard something else. Further away… a loud crash… raised voices followed by screams and shouts, the smashing of furniture and crashing of glass. Melanie reached for a towel from the rail and wrapped it around her bleeding, throbbing hand as the sounds of chaos continued to rock the apartment. Her vision blurred, but she fought to stay conscious. She’d come through so much, she wasn’t leaving the fight until she was sure it was all over.
‘Melanie?’ A voice she hadn’t expected to hear. ‘Melanie, are you okay, can you open the door?’
The pain in her hand was agonising. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t even answer the increasingly desperate calling of her name. She’d been so wrong about so much, even about the man on the other side of the door.
A loud crack and the bathroom door flew open. Liam Quinn, looking dishevelled, rushed through, stopping when he saw her.
‘Melanie!’
DI Elliot pushed past him and crouched down beside the bath. ‘Where are you hurt?’
‘Just my hand,’ Melanie said, lifting it up to show him. ‘And there is a cut on my back. That’s all.’ And that was all. She was alive. ‘You have her?’
‘Yes, they’re taking her away. She won’t cause you any more problems.’
‘She killed Hugo,’ Melanie said, tears catching in her throat. ‘And Eric.’
The sound of a siren grew louder. ‘Don’t worry about all of that now,’ Elliot said. ‘She’ll pay for what she did.’
‘You don’t understand,’ Melanie said. ‘It’s all my fault.’
Before she had a chance to explain, paramedics arrived. They ignored her insistence that she could walk and lifted her gently onto a gurney to wheel into the ambulance. Her hand was bandaged and she was given something for the pain. She didn’t know what it was, but she was out of it all before the ambulance left Bloom Park Road.
31
The first thing Melanie realised when she woke was that the pain had gone. It was such a relief that she lay without opening her eyes, enjoying the sensation, unwilling to rejoin the human race to enter a different world of agony. Caitlin. How could she cope with that? Silent tears squeezed out from the corners of Melanie’s eyes and ran down the side of her face into her hair. For a fleeting moment, she wished she’d taken the pills and would not have to cope with everything, the endless prying questions, the revelations about her past. Because it would all come out now.
‘Hey, don’t cry.’
Startled, her eyes snapped open and she turned her head to look straight into a pair of bloodshot grey eyes. ‘Quinn,’ she said, in a barely audible whisper.
His forehead creased. ‘Should I call the nurse, are you in pain?’
Melanie lifted her hand. It was swathed in bandages, looking for all the world like a bright-white boxing glove. She’d obviously been out for a considerable amount of time. Her eyes flicked around. A cubicle. Hospital. Probably A and E. Her brain was processing the information in bite-sized portions. ‘No,’ she said, and shut her eyes again, allowing the tears to continue. She couldn’t have stopped them if she tried.
She heard Quinn move and felt herself being lifted forward and enfolded into his strong, capable arms. It would have been nice to have lain there and given way to it. But the double betrayal of Hugo and Caitlin bit deep, it would be a long time before she would be able to trust again, to depend on anyone again. ‘I’m okay,’ she said, pushing him away. Staying sitting up, she ran her hand through her tangled hair and stared at him. ‘How long have I been here?’
‘About six hours. A doctor saw you shortly after we brought you in and he had your hand x-rayed. There’s no damage to bone or ligaments, just some soft tissue injury. He put in a few stitches and said it should heal without problem.’ Quinn sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh. ‘She fooled everyone, Melanie.’
He didn’t understand, how could he when he didn’t know all the story. ‘Did the doctor say when I could go home?’
It looked as if Quinn wanted to say more but instead, he shook his head. ‘He said there was no need to admit you so you can go whenever you want. You can, he said, return to outpatients to have the dressing changed or attend your local GP.’ Quinn reached into his pocket. ‘He gave me a prescription for painkillers. He said you’d probably need some.’
She shook her head. ‘The pain seems to have eased.’ A slight ache had returned but nothing like the agony she remembered.
Quinn smiled. ‘They gave you an injection when you were admitted. It’ll start to wear off soon so we’d better get this filled before we leave.’
We. Caitlin had lied about him, true. But what did Melanie really know about him? Swinging her feet to the floor, she ignored his outstretched hand and stood up. ‘If you give it to me, I can sort that myself and get a taxi to take me home. You don’t owe me anything, Mr Quinn.’
‘I’m afraid you can’t go home yet.’
She felt the first stirring of anger. ‘Really?’
He held his hands up. ‘Sam Elliot. He’s been in and out a few times. He’s anxious to get a statement from you. I told him I’d stay and let him know as soon as you were awake enough to speak to him.’ Quinn looked at her with a sardonic smile. ‘I guess that time has come.’
Her shoulders slumped. Before, when she couldn’t cope, she’d call Caitlin for support. ‘Not now,’ she said, hating how pathetic she sounded. ‘Please, I couldn’t bear to talk about it now.’
Quinn pulled out his mobile. ‘Sam, it’s Liam. I’m taking her home. She’s happy to make a statement in the morning, okay? She’s concerned that with the morphine she’s had, she won’t be able to remember all the details.’ He listened for a moment and held the phone away from his mouth to address her. ‘Sam says he’ll call around first thing unless you want to go into the station?’
Melanie didn’t even try to hide her gratitude. ‘No, thank you, ask him to call around.’ There was no room for anger anymore; Quinn wasn’t to blame for the state her life was in. She was good at messing up, she always had been.
It was easier to allow him to sort everything out. She leaned on his arm as they made their way from the hospital and sat in his car as he had the prescription filled, resting her head back, trying to fight tears that were never far away. She didn’t speak when he pulled up outside a house she didn’t recognise, merely looking at him with a raised eyebrow.
‘It’s my home,’ he said, ‘the crime-scene people are finished with your place but Sam says it’s in a bit of a mess.
I have a spare room you can use until it’s sorted. He’ll call here in the morning. We’d discussed it while you were still out.’
Discussed it and made decisions for her. Lethargy swept over her, swamping the residual terror, the deep-seated hurt and betrayal. She said nothing as she climbed from the car and walked beside him to the front door. He was speaking but she didn’t hear what he was saying, shutting herself off, following where he led, where he directed until finally, she shut the spare bedroom door.
He’d kindly given her a T-shirt to wear. The hospital staff had cut the sleeve of her bloodstained shirt. Along the seam, she noticed, as if in the future she’d think of sewing it up to wear again. With a tug, she managed to tear it further and eased her bandaged hand out. Blood had oozed through to her bra, she looked at the dark-red stains, then hurriedly unhooked it and threw it on top of her discarded shirt.
It would have been nice to have had a shower, to wash away the faint traces of blood she could see on her skin but she was weak, exhausted, diminished by all that had happened so that she thought she might fade away, slip down the plughole and vanish. Or was that a case of wishful thinking?
A gentle knock on the door made her scurry to pull the T-shirt over her head, her bandaged hand easily slipping through the armhole. If she were worried about being decent, she needn’t have done, it hung down to her knees. ‘Yes,’ she said, watching as the door opened slowly.
Quinn held out a glass of water and a packet of tablets. ‘You should probably take them before you go to sleep.’
The ache in her hand had become a dull throb. It would probably get worse. She held out her hand for the packet, shaking her head when he offered to open it. ‘I can manage,’ she said, and proved her point by opening it and removing two pills. Throwing them into her mouth, she reached for the glass of water and took a gulp.
‘If you need anything during the night… or what’s left of it,’ he added with a slight smile, ‘yell, my room is next door.’
The Deadly Truth Page 19