Inescapable

by C. J. Fallowfield

  ‘What news?’

  ‘None. From what I can ascertain there’s only the one entrance and exit to the personal dwelling, which appears to have been altered so it can only be accessed from inside the gallery, which is alarmed. The lights are on upstairs and neither of her employees have left yet.’

  ‘Okay. Give me a report in the morning, then I want someone else to take over the next shift. I don’t want a second unaccounted for, but under no circumstances do I want her knowing you’re watching. The only time you break protocol is if you feel she’s in imminent danger.’

  ‘Got it, boss.’

  I sighed as I terminated the call, and rolled my shoulders as I cracked my neck to try and ease out some of the tension that I was feeling. What spell had Alex Bishop cast over me, to have me so concerned for the welfare of a woman that I didn’t even know? It was disconcerting to say the least.

  Richard King

  I watched out of the window as the last of them left her shop, including her two employees, who spent some time locking up before walking off up the street arm in arm. I cricked my neck, then cracked my knuckles. Now that she knew I was back, it was time to take things to the next level.

  Grabbing the stick with the curved metal hook on the end, I lifted it up to the hatch that led into the loft of the flat above the empty shop premises next door to her gallery. I pulled and slowly lowered the stairs, then climbed them and entered the attic space, waiting until my eyes had adjusted to the dark. It had made my life a hell of a lot easier to discover that this row of terraced buildings didn’t comply with fire regulations. I had access to every building whenever I wanted, and I’d taken advantage of Izzie’s time in her gallery to drill some tiny holes in her ceiling so that I could lie and watch her wherever she was in her apartment. Cooking, painting, sleeping, stripping off, and showering.

  Crawling on my stomach I headed to my watch post above her living area, to find she’d kicked her shoes off and was pouring herself a glass of wine. A slow smile curled up the corners of my lips as I watched her glugging it back. Four weeks I’d been watching her, and she never drank at speed. My delivery had rattled her and put her on edge, which was actually my intention.

  I silently cursed as she disappeared from my eyeline in the direction of her bedroom and the lights in the lounge went out. I should have drilled more holes, that was next on my list when she was out of the flat. The more I saw of her the better. By the time I made it to her bedroom I could hear the sound of water running, and shuffled over to the bathroom in time to see her strip, then climb into her shower.

  Most ordinary men would get off on the sight of a naked woman soaping herself up, but I wasn’t most ordinary men. The only time watching her showering got me hard, was when she turned to face me, letting me see the evidence of my claim to her on her body. I slowly retreated and lay in wait above her bed, barely moving a muscle as she lay down to try and sleep, but tonight it was eluding her. And that fact brought me more happiness than I’d had in the last five or so years. I waited until she was drifting off, unable to fight it anymore, and crawled my way back to the hatch that led down into her lounge.

  I lowered her stairs as quietly as possible and made my way down them, then slipped into her bedroom. Standing at the foot of her bed my chest was heaving at finally being within touching distance of her again. The clothes she’d stripped off were still lying discarded on the floor, and I picked up her panties and held them to my nose, inhaling her scent deeply, before tossing them back down as I screwed up my face in disgust.

  It did nothing for me, despite it having been so long since I’d had a woman beneath me.

  ‘Isabelle,’ I called softly. She twitched and rubbed her eyes, muttering something before nestling her cheek down into the pillow again. I moved closer, inch-by-inch, my body flooding with excitement to be so close again, not to mention the surge of adrenaline at the thought of what I’d have to do to her if she were to wake up now.

  Now I was hard.

  I curled my hands up into tight white-knuckled fists at my sides as I watched her sleeping, fighting with everything I had not to make my move too soon. She opened the gallery each Saturday, and one of her assistants always came in and joined her for breakfast in her flat before she did. There were only a few hours until her alarm would wake her up, which didn’t give me enough time to cuff and gag her, then beat her back down into submission, before I dragged her through the loft into the flat next door. I wanted to hold her and torture her without any time pressures on me. Sunday would be perfect, and I could then use the cover of darkness to escape with her, before anyone even had a chance to realise she was gone.

  I leaned over and put my lips next to her ear, part of me almost willing her to wake up so that my agony wouldn’t have to be prolonged.

  ‘Tomorrow, Izzie, just twenty-four hours and you’ll be all mine again,’ I whispered, my body trembling with excitement at the thought of it.

  Chapter Five

  Alex

  Saturday

  ‘YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT there’s nothing you can do? Nothing at all?’ I exclaimed, as I sat in the local police station, still stunned at their reaction.

  ‘Our information shows us that he landed at London Heathrow a month ago, but we have no record of where he went next. It’s not illegal for him to be in the same city as you, Miss Bishop.’

  ‘It’s illegal for him to communicate with me,’ I reminded the officer.

  ‘We have no evidence that he has.’

  ‘He sent me a flower and card.’

  ‘A card that you can’t produce, and the florist said that the delivery was paid for in cash by a young man who doesn’t fit the description that you gave us of Richard King. There’s nothing concrete to say it came from him.’

  ‘And I already told you, the card said “My darling Isabelle.” Only Richard ever called me darling, or Isabelle, and no one who knew me as Izzie has any idea I’m here in London or under the guise of Alex Bishop.’

  ‘Then how exactly do you think he found you?’ the officer asked leaning back in his chair.

  ‘I don’t know, that’s why I’m here, so you can do your goddamn job, track him down and arrest him!’

  ‘Alex,’ Tom said quietly, as he reached over to hold my hand and gave it a squeeze in a futile attempt to calm me down.

  ‘There’s no need to raise your voice, Miss Bishop.’

  ‘There’s every need, because you don’t appear to be listening to me or appreciating the gravity of the situation. Didn’t you read the trial transcripts I gave you? Or see the photographic evidence of what he did to me? I thought I was free of him, I can’t go back to living in fear for the rest of my life.’

  ‘And I understand that, I really do, but we need evidence, not to mention time, to look into this,’ he repeated, making me place the fingertips of my left hand against my throbbing temple. I’d been here all day and felt like I hadn’t got anywhere at all.

  ‘I might not have time. I sent him to prison, and he’s not a forgiving man. He’s going to find me in person, and he’s going to hurt me. Again.’

  ‘Then might I suggest you take a holiday? Disappear somewhere for a while with your friend here, and let us try and do our job.’

  ‘Why should I have to run again?’ I asked as I lifted my head to hold his gaze. ‘It’s not me who’s done anything wrong. He’s the one at fault here.’

  He didn’t reply. How could he? There was no fair response to that question. Richard King, my abuser, was the one in control. He held all of the power again and I hated it.

  ‘Well, there’s nothing else for it, is there,’ Tom stated as I drove my Beetle out of the police station car park towards the gallery and home. ‘You need to ring Tate Castle and kill two birds with one stone.’

  ‘How’s that?’ I asked, frowning as I looked in my rear-view mirror. Paranoia was already setting in, I was sure I’d seen the car behind me a number of times today.

  ‘You heard the officer.
His diagnosis was that you need to disappear for a while, where better than a private island in the Caribbean. My diagnosis is that to ease some of the tension that has your shoulders up around your ears, you need to get laid. And we’re back to Tate Castle. Two birds, one stone. With Tate Castle being the stone, the rock hard, sexy-as-fuck stone. Bam,’ he added gleefully as he brought his hands together in a clap.

  ‘I’m not ringing Mr. Castle, or having sex with him,’ I retorted. Though I couldn’t deny the fluttering deep in my belly at the mere thought of the man.

  ‘Alex, I can’t imagine how much that arsehole hurt you, not just physically, but emotionally too, but you can’t let him strip you of everything that makes you a woman. You have needs, and while sex with him might have been violent and aggressive, that’s not how sex between two people who really love each other is.’

  ‘But I don’t love Castle, nor him me. We don’t even know each other, so that argument doesn’t hold water.’

  ‘Okay, replace the word love with respect. My point still stands. Was there never a time it was a pleasurable experience for you? How about with your other partners?’

  ‘There were no others,’ I said quietly, my fingers tightening on the steering wheel. ‘He was my first. My only.’

  ‘Oh God, no wonder you’re anti-men,’ he gasped, a look of horror settling on his face.

  ‘I’m not anti-men, I’m just … I know I can’t tar everyone with his brush, that I drew the short straw with the one guy I picked, but how am I supposed to even try with another man? Castle lifted his hand to touch my face and I flinched. If I can’t even be touched in a non-sexual way, how would I react when it is sexual? What if all those memories I’ve tried so hard to repress come flooding back and I freak out?’

  ‘Okay, firstly, you using the words “tried so hard to repress” means you’ve not dealt with what happened to you properly, you’ve avoided dealing with it, and that never ends well. And secondly, I touch you in a non-sexual way all of the time and you don’t shy away from me.’

  ‘I know you, I trust you implicitly.’

  ‘Get to know him, then you’d probably learn to trust him, too.’

  ‘You’re gay, I’m safe with you. Castle’s not.’

  ‘He definitely isn’t, much to my disappointment,’ Tom sighed dramatically. ‘But me being gay doesn’t make you safe in my company, Alex. Me choosing not to hurt you makes you safe. Gay, bi, or straight, it doesn’t matter, it’s about respect for another human being and making the choice not to commit violence against them. It sounds like this Richard, or Dick as I’m going to call him moving forward, didn’t have any respect for you, or women in general, and I’d warrant that you weren’t the first woman he did this to. He’s a man with serious anger issues and that’s why he hurt you.’

  ‘Okay, I get what you’re saying to a certain degree,’ I reluctantly admitted.

  ‘Please, to a certain degree? It’s the most intelligent, rational, and non-waffling thing I’ve probably ever said to you. Tell me that you don’t blame yourself for what he did? That you don’t think you “asked for it?”’

  ‘Well, something he saw in me told him that he’d get away with it. I’m scared that if I even thought about trying a relationship with another man, I’d let myself get walked all over again, or worse. Maybe that’s really who I am on the inside, someone weak who needs someone to control her.’

  ‘Okay, I’m taking back the whole “I choose not to hurt you” speech, pull the car over right now, as I’m going to bitch slap you, Alex Bishop! You are not weak, do you hear me?’

  ‘I am,’ I sighed in resignation.

  ‘No, you’re not. How many women would have endured what you did for all of those years and survived it? How many would have intentionally pushed a monster to attack them, in the hope that they could use that to their advantage and escape? You could have crawled into a hole and stayed there, licking your wounds after all of the crap you’d endured, as a child and as a young woman, but you came to a new city, completely alone, and built a life and business for yourself. You, Alex Bishop, are the very definition of strength and control. I was already proud of you, before I even heard last night what you’d been through, and saw the pictures of it for myself this morning. And now that I do know, I don’t have words for how incredible I think you are.’

  ‘Stop, you’re making my cry, and I can’t drive when I’m crying,’ I sniffed, dragging my sleeve across my face.

  ‘He’s already taken so much from you, Alex, don’t let him rob you of the other future you wanted for yourself, by closing you off to the possibility of love and a family of your own. I’m not saying Tate Castle is the man for you, but he’s offering you a lifeline when you need it most. Take the job, take the chance to feel safe where Dick can’t get at you. And take the time to see if this therapist really can help you heal, as you have such a generous heart I can’t bear the thought of you not having anyone to share it with for the rest of your life.’

  ‘I have you and Janice,’ I said, taking my eyes off the road to quickly flash him a grateful smile.

  ‘So sweet, but it’s not the same and you know it. Friendship love is never the same as romantic love. Promise me you’ll think about Tate’s offer?’

  ‘If I promise, can we stop with all the deep talk and just have an evening of fun to take my mind off it all?’

  ‘What did you have in mind?’ he grinned.

  ‘Something that involves comfort eating and huge amounts of alcohol.’

  ‘Let the pretence commence,’ he agreed with a vigorous nod, but not before he smothered my hand that was resting on the gearstick and gave it a gentle squeeze.

  ‘Janice, where’s all of my work?’ I asked, as Tom and I stepped into the warmth of my gallery, only to find the walls bare.

  ‘He bought it all. Every. Single. Original. Piece,’ Janice beamed, almost bouncing with excitement as she made her way over to us.

  ‘He?’ I asked.

  ‘Goddamn it. There goes all of my sales commission I’d been dreaming of spending for Christmas,’ Tom grizzled.

  ‘He?’ I repeated, trying to squash the rising panic.

  ‘I’ll split it with you,’ Janice smiled, making Tom clap with delight.

  ‘Janice, who bought my originals?’ I demanded.

  ‘Tate Castle, of course. He was waiting the moment I opened up this morning. He purchased them all and asked me to give you his business card.’ She held out the crisp white rectangle towards me as I let out a sigh of relief.

  ‘I already have his card,’ I said, not reaching for it.

  ‘He said that you’d say that, but also said as you hadn’t rung him, he’d have to assume that you’d lost it and would need his number again.’

  ‘Give the guy his due, he’s persistent when he wants something,’ Tom murmured.

  ‘I’m not a chattel, Tom, a piece of art he can just swoop in and acquire.’

  ‘He could swoop in and acquire me any day,’ Janice nodded.

  ‘I’d even consider sharing him with you,’ Tom added, throwing her a high five. ‘At the same time, and you know how much the thought of pussy traumatises me, let alone the possibility of seeing it. Pussy roadkill would be a more apt description of that part of a woman’s anatomy.’

  ‘Mine’s not roadkill, thank you very much. I’ve been told it’s very pretty.’

  ‘Who by? Stevie Wonder?’

  ‘Oi,’ Janice protested, smacking his arm as I shook my head, a faint smile appearing on my face. ‘Anyway, if I was lucky enough to snag a guy that hot, there’s no way I’d share him. I’d even push Patrick Dempsey under a bus for him, and you know how bad I have it for him.’

  ‘Dempsey, pah! He doesn’t hold a candle to Tate Castle.’

  ‘Seriously?’ I uttered. ‘What is it about this guy that has you both gaga for him? He’s not all that.’

  ‘Oh, you big fat liar, Alex,’ Tom stated, making me blush. ‘Whatever your hang ups with the opposite sex, w
hich are perfectly valid now that I know your history, you can’t deny that you find the man attractive.’

  ‘Okay, fine, I’m attracted to him,’ I admitted, slightly underplaying my reaction to him. ‘But as you so eloquently stated, I have hang ups, serious hang ups, so I’m not calling him.’

  ‘Well, I’ll just put his card on the desk,’ Janice said as she walked back over to the till and made a show of placing the card right in the middle of the oak top it sat on. ‘You know, just in case you change your mind, it will be here, waiting for you to pick it up and call him.’

  ‘I won’t change my mind,’ I stated stubbornly. ‘Now, let’s get some of my framed copies out of storage and up on the walls so it doesn’t look so bleak in here. Then we’re ordering Chinese takeout and watching a movie upstairs if you’re free, Janice?’

  ‘I’m free, I’m always free. There’s no Tate Castle beating down a path to my door,’ she sighed.

  ‘It should be a crime,’ Tom stated, as he locked the gallery door and turned the open sign to closed. ‘We’re three young, hot professionals in our prime and we’re all single.’

  ‘It is a crime,’ Janice agreed.

  ‘Single’s better than being with the wrong guy,’ I reminded them both.

  ‘True, but what you don’t realise is that they’re not all the wrong guy. And maybe, just maybe, Tate Castle could be Mr. Right.’

  ‘He could even just be Mr. Right now,’ Janice agreed. ‘No one says it has to be long term.’

  ‘You two are like a dog with a bone,’ I laughed as we all headed down the corridor towards my storage room.

  ‘I hang around with you two so much that I can’t even remember the last time I had a bone,’ Tom teased.

  Once I was happy with the pieces on display in the gallery, I pulled my keys out of my pocket and unlocked the inner door from the gallery to the stairs that led up to my flat. After accessing Richard’s safe, I didn’t trust digital locks. I gestured for Tom and Janice to head up the stairs, then locked the door behind us, flipping on the deadbolts. They’d teased me over the years at my anal approach to security, but I guess now that I’d shared my past, it all made sense to them.