Her father had taken these pictures. Her father had taken pornographic photographs in their home, and she had been completely oblivious to it. What about her mother? Had she known about this?
Alicia rather thought she had. All those times she’d been warned never to disturb her father when he’d been ‘working’. The whole castle probably knew what he’d been up to. And said nothing.
If she hadn’t already been sat down, Alicia thought she might have collapsed. She could hardly turn over the heavy pages of the album, her hands were trembling so much. The DCI leaned over and did it for her.
“How about this girl?” He prodded the page with a manicured finger.
Alicia looked at the redhead, sat on that desk, with a giant atlas on her lap. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, not much older than Lexi.
“No,” she said. “I’ve never seen her before either.”
The DCI flipped over the page. “Or this one?”
He was sounding increasingly desperate. Behind him, the young PC stood poised with a notebook and pen, waiting for her to reel off a list of names. On the floor between them were the remaining albums. They obviously expected her to look at each and every one.
Alicia forced herself to concentrate, tipping forward the album she held balanced on her knee, angling it to avoid any reflected light from the cathedral-like window behind her.
The photo was of a girl reaching up to take a book from one of the library shelves. The sun shone through the window behind her, casting her face into shadow and creating a halo of light around her blonde hair. The photo blurred, and at first Alicia couldn’t understand why, and then she realised it was because she was crying.
“That’s Natalie … Oh God, it’s Natalie … ”
She pushed the book away. It fell from her lap before either of the men could catch it, hitting the stone floor with a thud that echoed around the cavernous hall. She tried to stand but the DCI already had his hand on her shoulder and was forcing her back into her seat.
He scooped up another album, shoving it into her hands and flipping over the pages until they were at the start. “And this one?”
Alicia couldn’t bear to look. “I can’t do this any more,” she sobbed. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
She felt the pressure of his fingers digging into the bones of her shoulder. “One more photograph, Mrs Fitzpatrick, and then I’ll take the book away. Just one more, please. It’s very important.”
So Alicia glanced down at the photograph album, steeling herself, trying to keep her thoughts objective as she saw yet another naked girl, this one lying back against a bed of flowers, with her head turned sideways towards the camera. The flowers were such large, exotic-looking blooms it took a moment for Alicia to place them.
“Water lilies?”
Such was the angle of the camera no water could be seen at all. Her father must have lain down on the flagstones, to be level with the pond.
“Oh my God … it’s Sarah!”
“Look again,” said the DCI.
Sarah’s enormous blue eyes stared right into the camera and there was an enigmatic smile curving her pink lips.
Alicia could hardly believe what she was seeing.
Sarah was floating naked in a lily pond - and she was smiling …
“But in this photograph … she’s alive … ”
57
Natalie bit into her lip, forcing herself not to scream, not to lose it completely. If she could hear breathing, it meant someone else was in here with her. If they were breathing, they weren’t dead and, as they were unlikely to be here through free will, she had a potential ally.
She stretched her fingers into the dark and felt the outline of a body lying pressed against her own. Much bigger, with rough stubble along the jaw, and the faint odour of a scent she recognised but couldn’t put a name to, mixed with one she could.
Geraint.
He lay on his side with his back towards her. His legs were bent up in the same way as her own, but he did not appear to have been bound or tied up in any way. Shaking him elicited no response, not even a groan. He had been drugged, possibly by the same method, but using a stronger dose. At least he was alive.
How long had they been unconscious? She was wearing her watch but it wasn’t a lot of good in the dark. Nor did she have her mobile phone; it was unlikely her kidnapper had been kind enough to collect her handbag on the way out of the apartment.
The bastard.
She felt a spark of anger and clung to it. Self-pity and panic were not going to get her out of here. She had to fight.
As she turned this new development over in her mind, it occurred to her that although she didn’t have her mobile phone, maybe Geraint did? She reached out her hand, sliding it along the length of his body and past the waistband of his jeans. She could feel the outline of his wallet in one of his back pockets, but nothing in the other. She snuggled closer, lifting his sweater and deftly moving her fingers beneath it and over to his stomach, using the fastening of his jeans to help her locate the pockets at the front.
Perhaps it was a good thing he was unconscious.
Because his legs were bent up, it was hard to squeeze her fingers into each pocket. There was nothing in the first one she checked, but in the second there did seem to be something … But it was so tightly wedged …
The boot was unexpectedly illuminated by a dim light. She almost screamed in delight. He did have a phone! She’d found it!
It took more than a few moments to wriggle it out of his pocket, not helped by the car jolting as it drove over an uneven surface, causing Geraint to roll backwards and crush her against the side of the boot. She had to use all her strength to shove him off, during which time she felt the car slow down and make a sharp turn.
Finally she held the phone in her hand. The light had gone out but as soon as she pressed the screen it came back on. The battery was charged, the signal was good. She could hardly believe her luck.
She unlocked the screen, called up the keypad and hit 9 three times. The call was answered so quickly it didn’t even have time to ring.
Natalie asked for the police, careful to keep her voice low. She hit her first obstacle when the switchboard operator asked her to confirm the number she was calling from.
“I don’t know; it’s not my phone.”
Silence. Then, “Are you calling from a mobile phone?”
Perhaps the switchboard had Caller Recognition. “Yes, you see - ”
“Where are you calling from?”
Why wouldn’t the woman let her explain? “I’m trapped in the boot of my car.”
“In which case I suggest you contact a garage or a locksmith.”
“No!” Natalie felt her stomach plunge in panic. “Please don’t hang up! My name is Natalie Grove and I’ve been kidnapped.”
Now she definitely sounded like a crank. Why the hell hadn’t she phoned Alicia?
She could hardly breathe, so sure was she that the call would be terminated. But after another moment of silence, the woman on the other end spoke calmly. “Can you give me the make and model of the car, and the registration number?”
As Natalie did so, she felt the car slow right down and stop.
“Oh fuck, he’s stopped the car!”
“Please try to stay calm, Ms Grove. I’ve passed your details onto the local patrol. They’re looking for you right now.”
“But I could be anywhere!”
“Keep the line open. We can trace your whereabouts from the phone you’re using.”
She felt the car vibrate with the slam of a door.
“He’s coming!” she hissed into the receiver.
“You must stay on the line, Ms Grove. It is important.”
How could the woman remain so calm? Didn’t she understand how serious this was?
“I can’t, I can’t. He’s going to kill me. I know he is - ”
There was a click as the lock on the boot was released.
Natalie tried
to shove the phone beneath Geraint to hide it, but as a bright white light was shone into the boot, blinding her, the phone was snatched from her hand and she was dragged up and out of the car.
Her legs were so numb after being squashed up, she couldn’t stand upright and landed painfully on the ground. Instead of the tarmac of a road, as she was expecting, she found herself kneeling on the pea shingle of a private driveway. Directly in front of her was the mobile phone, with the screen still lit. She could even hear the sound of a tinny voice, barely audible, saying, “Hello? Hello?” But when she would have snatched it up, a man’s foot ground it into the gravel.
Helplessly she stared at the shattered pieces of metal. That was it. Her last hope.
Above her head, she heard the car boot slam shut. Geraint was still unconscious inside. What was going to happen to him?
What was going to happen to her?
“Get up,” said a man’s voice.
And go to her death without a fight? She didn’t think so!
“Fuck you,” she said bitterly, and then tensed, waiting for the blow.
He dragged her to her feet. “Do as you’re told, you stupid bitch.”
She raised her head, intending to spit in his face.
And felt her defiance ebb away as she recognised the man who held her.
58
“Simon?”
But Simon did not reply. He tightened his grip on her arm and began to drag her away from the car. Her bare feet could not get a grip on the gravel so she sat down. Why make it easy for him?
“Get up,” he said.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll find out.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you. Give me my car keys, let me drive back to Calahurst and I promise I won’t say anything.”
In response he took something shiny from his pocket and held it against her throat. “You’re not in a position to negotiate.”
She felt a sharp sting as something pricked her skin and was immediately still.
Simon had a knife.
“That’s better,” he said. “Now, are you going to behave yourself, or shall I make another little cut … right about … ” The knife passed over her face and came to rest on the bridge of her nose. “ … here?”
“Please don’t,” she said carefully. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“Promise?” he mocked.
“Yes … ”
He laughed as he took the knife away from her face. “Up you get then.”
She took her time getting back onto her feet. Be strong, she told herself. The police knew her situation. They were out looking for her car. They might even have traced the phone’s location. All she had to do was keep her cool, not antagonise Simon in any way, and delay the inevitable for as long as possible.
What was ‘the inevitable’?
Right now, she thought she’d rather not know.
They stood on the drive of a typically suburban house. It was newly-built but appeared to have a large garden to one side, and short drive leading back to the road. While Natalie could not see any other houses close by, she did have a clear view of the road. If the police did drive past, and if they did take a glance down the driveway, they would see her car.
It was a lot of ‘ifs’ though.
“Where are we?” she asked him.
“You don’t know?” He seemed genuinely amused. “You expect me to believe you’ve never been here before?”
Was she missing something? She glanced up at the house. It appeared deserted. There were no lights on and, although it was now dark, none of the curtains were drawn closed either.
“Are we going inside?”
“No.” He flipped the beam of the torch to a stronger setting. “We’re going for a walk in the garden.”
It was a relief for her sore feet to step from the gravel and onto wet grass. There was no distinct path to follow but Simon seemed to know where he was going, leading her between a maze of flower beds and herbaceous borders until the house and road could no longer be seen.
Where the hell were they?
The garden was large for a modern house but occasionally she caught glimpses of a surrounding stone wall, which seemed older. Perhaps there had once been another building on the site, demolished to make way for the new house? And then, as they passed between a gap in a neatly clipped yew hedge, Natalie experienced a sense of déjà vu.
“Where are we?”
In reply he lifted the torch, moving the beam from the lawn to some distance ahead, where a terrace had been created against a high stone wall. A terrace which was bordered with roses and Michaelmas daisies and, leading up to it, two sets of stone steps.
It wasn’t possible …
She cast a glance behind for reassurance. There was no wall behind her, only a hedge of dark yew, newly planted.
“What’s going on? Why have you brought me here?”
Simon took hold of her arm, pulling her across the grass and up the steps.
Ahead was the faint glimmer of moonlight on water.
“No … ”
She tried to back away but Simon was behind her, wrapping one arm around her, pinning her left arm to her side and holding her tightly against him, forcing her to keep looking ahead.
He rested his cheek on her hair and said, quite softly, “Now do you know where you are?”
It wasn’t possible. How could it be possible?
Every instinct in her body screamed at her to run.
He kicked out at a short wooden post. It must have contained some kind of electrical switch because in that moment the garden was illuminated. There were banks of lights along the wall, fairy lights sprinkled amongst the trees and pretty glass spheres staked in the flower beds.
But what caught her attention were the lily ponds.
“This is what we’re going to do,” he said.
“Please don’t hurt me. Please … please … ”
“I want you to walk over to that pond, take off your clothes - ”
“No … ”
“- and get into the water.”
She felt the bile rise in her throat. “Please, no … ”
He relaxed his grip on her and instead took hold of her hand and led her towards the pond. “I’ll help you … ”
She could hardly walk she was shaking so much. Was he going to kill her? Of that she had no doubt. Slash her throat and leave her to bleed to death amongst the lilies …
He released her and stepped back, taking the knife from his pocket again.
“Get on with it,” he said. “Or I could cut your clothes off you if you prefer?”
She froze as he let the tip of the knife rest against her collar bone, and then let it slide across her skin, down and down, until she felt the cold metal press lightly over her heart. Hardly daring to breathe, in case he inadvertently cut her, she thought that this was going to be the moment; this was when he would kill her.
Instead, he caught the blade beneath the lace of her camisole and slashed forward, cutting through the fabric with ease. Natalie thought she might just faint from the horror of it.
“Well?” he said. “Shall I continue?”
Whatever sick game he was intending to play, perhaps if she went along with it, taking as long as possible, the police could still turn up. They knew what had happened, they knew the number of the phone she’d been calling from. Surely it would be easy to trace her location?
Why weren’t they here already?
“Natalie?”
Bastard, bastard. She had never hated him so much as she did that moment. But she could draw strength from hatred. Fear only paralysed. And she had to stay strong. Had to. If she was ever going to get of this alive.
“All right,” she said, “I’ll do it.”
She took off her clothes, discarding each item carelessly on the grass until she was completely naked, curling her toes into the mud to stop herself shivering.
“It’s freezing!” she said.
&nbs
p; “It’s September,” came the reply. “What do you expect?”
“You’re crazy!”
“Just get on with it.”
She turned her back, picking her way across the lawn towards a large ornamental pool, the middle one of three. She sat on the edge. The decorative brickwork surround scraped her skin. She dangled her legs in the dark water. The mirror-like surface was instantly broken.
“In you get.”
For a moment she did not move, her fingers still gripping the curved edge of the pool. Then, as she heard a movement behind her, she hurriedly slid in, gasping as the cold water splashed over her stomach. Her feet hit the bottom and sank into the silt. It took a moment for her to recover her balance.
“Quicker … ”
She waded into the centre of the pool. It was not easy. She had to push aside the clusters of water lilies and avoid stumbling over their roots - packed tightly into little plastic baskets beneath the surface. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure she really had to go through with it; an indifferent thumbs-down gave her the answer. Slowly, she immersed herself in the icy water, bringing her legs up so she could float on her back. She tried not to wince as the sharp-edged leaves of the water lilies scratched her skin. There were trails of slimy pondweed caught on her thighs and stomach and her left foot was stinging. She must have trodden on something sharp, buried beneath the silt.
The garden was now so quiet she could hear the occasional car from the nearby road. She could have been utterly alone but knew she was being watched.
She took a few deep breaths but her voice was still not steady as she asked, “Is this all right?”
“Perfect,” said the voice from the dark.
59
It was impossible to remain afloat. The mass of lilies helped, but every time Natalie moved, the water would ripple across the pond, splashing her face and going up her nose. But it was the water in her ears, deadening all sound, which was the most disorientating.
Where was Simon? Was he still watching? She really needed to know. He’d watched her take her clothes off without showing any kind of emotion, or even desire. It was sinister in the extreme. How could she have shared her life with him all these years, yet apparently not have known him at all?
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