It Started With A House: Lizzie. Book 1 (The Westport Mysteries)

by Beth Prentice

  Alarm registered in his eyes and he waved the knife in my direction again. “Don’t you dare,” he snarled.

  Too bad, I thought, as I turned my head in his direction and threw up the entire contents of my stomach—which I may add was quite a bit after I’d stopped on my way here to have a thick shake, burger and chips.

  The car swerved across the road, as he attempted to protect himself from the barrage of vomit coming his way. It didn’t help though. It was dripping off his arm, sliding down the side of his face and hanging off his earring. I could see his gag reflex kick in and quickly winding down his window, he stuck his head outside and took some deep breaths.

  Once he gained control, he turned to me, raised his fist and struck. “Bitch!”

  My head hit the window so hard, everything turned black as I said a quick goodbye to the world.

  * * * *

  It was the sound of a dog barking that pulled me from the darkness. It sounded a long way off, but I could definitely hear it. I prized my eyes open. My head throbbed and I struggled to remember what had happened. Blinking several times, I begged my eyes to adjust to the light faster than they were. I saw I was on the floor in my kitchen and the dog I could hear was Harper.

  I have no idea how long I was unconscious for but, judging by the gloom in the room, I’d say it had been a while. The blinds were closed, adding to the shadowy darkness. I tried to sit up and realized one hand was handcuffed to my refrigerator. No wonder my wrist hurt so much. I raised myself onto my knees to take the pressure off of my wrist and tried to figure out what was going on.

  “Hello, again,” I heard a familiar, smooth voice say.

  Struggling to my feet, I hoped my legs weren’t quite as jelly-like as they felt. I turned around as far as the handcuffs would allow and came face to face with David Thornton.

  “We meet again,” he crooned. My voice hadn’t caught up with the rest of me yet, so I glared at him instead.

  “You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here? Well, it turns out it’s quite a story. One you can blame Avis Miller completely for,” he said, pointing at me.

  I’m not sure why, but I felt compelled to defend her, even though we’d never actually met. “Don’t blame other people for your choices, ” I said, my wobbly voice deciding to join in on the proceedings.

  “Oh, I would never do that, Lizzie. I hope you don’t mind that I use your Christian name. I do feel we are quite connected now. Don’t you?”

  “The only part of me that I would like to be connected to you is my fist,” I mumbled, trying to shake the grogginess that I was feeling.

  He gave a throaty chuckle. “Now, now, please don’t be like that. You will be standing in front of St Peter soon and, if you want to spend eternity with our Lord, then you will need to be repentant.”

  He’d moved closer and was now standing only a few feet away. Shaking my head, I felt the sluggishness start to fade and my desire to fight kick in. I wanted to hit him so badly, not just for handcuffing me to my refrigerator but for all of the bad things he’d done. And he had the nerve to stand in front of me in my home, and talk about forgiveness. Surely, God would forgive me one little punch right about now. To hell with it, I’d worry about that when I met St Peter.

  It only took me a second, but in that second my fist connected with his jaw nicely. He staggered backwards as the shock registered on his face. He’d not been expecting that. Recovering quickly, he rubbed his chin and moved closer. The look in his eyes was so chilling, I saw the real man behind the facade. He was no Christian. His heart was full of hatred.

  I watched as he raised his arm and backhanded me across the face. It was such a hard blow that, had my hand not been handcuffed to the fridge, I would have been knocked across the kitchen. Stars flitted in front of my eyes and pain shot up my handcuffed arm but I struggled to clear my head and remain conscious. Feeling my lip, I felt the blood oozing its way towards my chin.

  “Don’t ever raise your hand to me again. Do you understand me?”

  His voice was low and menacing, his face forward inches from mine. Even though he’d told me I was about to meet my Maker, I wasn’t as scared as I thought I’d be.

  Maybe the fight to survive went into overdrive in life-threatening situations. Sure, my legs resembled jelly and I could do with a really good cry, but I was prepared to go down fighting. My heart rate was so high I’d probably die from cardiac arrest long before he had the chance to kill me. Getting back onto my feet, I looked up at him and met his gaze.

  “What do you want from me?” I demanded.

  “All I ever wanted was to get the ring back and protect not just my family, but my congregation.”

  “What are you protecting them from? The truth? Surely they deserve to know how evil you really are?” This gained me another strike. Thankfully this one wasn’t as hard but if I survived this, I was going to look awful.

  “My aunt was the sinner, Elizabeth, not me!”

  “Really? How do you figure that?” I asked, pulling myself back up and desperately fighting tears.

  “The Bible clearly states God made men and women to be together in marriage. Homosexuality is a sin!”

  “Your aunt fell in love and you can’t choose who that will be with. But you did choose to hurt people and lie to them. Surely that’s a bigger sin?”

  “I pray for forgiveness for my sins. She did not.”

  “How did you know I found the ring anyway?” He looked thoughtful, but chose to answer my question.

  “Patrick Johns, Ms. Miller’s solicitor, is a member of my congregation. I’d asked him to talk to Ms. Miller and find out what happened to it. My father told me about the relationship between Ms. Miller and my aunt. If this gets out into the community, our church could be destroyed. The whole foundation of who we are as a family and what we represent would be shattered. My whole life is in that Church. What would happen to me if it fell apart?” I could see the agitation in his eyes.

  “You’re an evil person,” I said, not really caring anymore. It pretty much looked like today was D-day for me so I may as well go down in a blaze of glory, as they say. Drawing his hand back, he struck me across the face and the stars appeared. My head felt like it was going to explode…again.

  “Now I have to go and pray. I need to ask for forgiveness. All because of you,” he said, pushing his face close to mine.

  “Well I hope God says no. You don’t deserve it.” This gained me an extra strike. I wasn’t sure how many more of those I could take. Struggling to get back on my feet, my whole body shaking, I noticed that bald-headed sedan man had entered the room. He looked like he’d just got out of the shower.

  “What are you wearing?” David Thornton demanded, turning to look at him, disdain dripping from every word.

  “She vomited on me, I had to find clean clothes.”

  I noticed he was wearing an old oversized t-shirt of mine I used for sleeping in and a pair of my sweatpants he’d stretched to their absolute max. They stopped short just below his knees. If he hadn’t been polishing a very large knife, I may have laughed at how absurd he looked.

  Turning back towards me, David Thornton asked, “Where is the ring, Lizzie?”

  “I don’t have it.” This earned me another hit.

  “Do not lie!”

  “I’m not lying!” I yelled back, giving into my tears. “I gave it to the jeweler.”

  Okay, maybe that bit was a lie.

  Turning to look at Sedan Man, David said, “You said he didn’t have it.”

  “He told me he didn’t. He only had a photo.”

  I could see the anger in David Thornton’s eyes as he looked back at me.

  “It probably burnt in the shop fire,” I said, putting my head down, hoping he wouldn’t see my lie.

  “I checked before I started the fire, Sir. It wasn’t there.” I could hear the fear in Sedan Man’s voice. He needed the pastor to believe him.

  “I don’t know who to believe, you or the id
iot over there!” he yelled, looking at me.

  “You know if you’d just asked for the ring in the first place, I would probably have given it to you,” I said, wiping my running nose with the back of my free hand.

  “You…” he said, thrusting his finger in my face, “...are a liar! Though I have given you fair warning, you are going to Hell, Elizabeth Fuller.” He turned to Sedan Man. “You know what to do.”

  He turned his back on me and walked out of the room.

  Waiting in silence, we heard the front door close and a car engine turn over before it roared out of my driveway. We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. Sedan Man stared at me, a sadistic smile plastered all over his ugly face. I noticed how dark his eyes were. I noticed the scar that ran from his lip to chin, and I noticed how crooked his nose was. Finally, he broke the silence.

  “I’ve been watching you, you know. Did you like my photo?” he chuckled. I felt the cold chill sweep over my skin as goose-bumps broke out by the millions.

  “Did you ever wonder why your bedroom door was always open in the morning? I’m very good at picking locks, you know. I thought by leaving the door open you would at least know I’d been there. I wanted you to know. This last week has been torture for me, watching you from afar but not being able to get close to you.” Closing the gap between us, he silently crossed the room.

  “I was only supposed to watch your house for a short while, but once I had seen you, I couldn’t help but keep coming back. I was hooked.” He stopped, looking down at me. “You really are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” Grabbing a handful of my hair, he curled it around his fingers. “I love your hair,” he whispered, pulling me hard against him. “I love it’s softness but most of all, I love the way it smells.” I heard a low, almost primeval growl, low in his throat, as he put his nose to my scalp. “You’re probably wondering how I know what it smells like?” He was pulling hard, forcing me to stretch upwards to ease the pain. “I’ve smelt it while you were asleep,” he whispered, his lips touching my ear as he gently rubbed the blade of his knife against my cheek. “You look so peaceful when you sleep, never knowing I was watching you. It’s such a shame I have to kill you, because I think I may have fallen in love with you.”

  His lips were just millimeters away from my cheek as his tongue trailed its way to my mouth. I could smell the stale smell of cigarette smoke, making me want to gag, but before I even had a chance to breathe, he forced his mouth over mine and kissed me.

  The rough stubble on his jaw scraped my tender skin and he forced my lips apart with his tongue. The taste of fear and cigarettes swirled in the back of my throat as his mouth drowned my screams. I started to make all sorts of promises to God, that if he could please get me out of this, I would be a much better girl and visit him in church more often.

  Thankfully, he seemed to be listening.

  Sedan Man let go of me, stood back and grinned. “I just can’t decide whether I should make love to you before or after I kill you.”

  Okay, God wasn’t listening properly. My stomach dove south and darkness threatened to consume me. This man was certifiably crazy and I couldn’t see any way out. At least if he killed me first, I wouldn’t have to know what it felt like to be raped. The kiss violated me enough.

  “It’s okay, Lizzie,” he said, reaching out and cradling my face in his hand. “It won’t hurt. I would never allow you to feel pain. I’m going to give you lots of sleeping pills and a large glass of vodka, that way you won’t feel anything when I push you down the stairs and break your neck.” I could hear sympathy and compassion in his voice. He honestly believed he was helping me. “I thought about doing the same for Avis but decided in the end that pushing her down the stairs just seemed easier. The stupid old woman didn’t die though, did she?” He stepped away from me and started to pace the room, agitation building with every step.

  “Brian Hogan was different though. I had to make sure he was dead before I started that fire. Couldn’t make the same mistake twice,” he laughed.

  My legs buckled and I wanted to pass out as I slowly sank to the floor. Nausea rolled around my stomach as I thought about Brian Hogan. He’d still be alive today if I hadn’t asked him to help identify the owner of the ring. The bravery I felt before had gone and what was left was pure, paralyzing fear. Maybe if I kept him talking I’d have time to ask for a miracle.

  “Why did you kill him?” I asked, impressing myself with how steady my voice sounded, considering I now sat on the floor, my knees hugged to my chest, using all the self-control I could find not to cry.

  “I had to. He knew the truth. His father remembered who he made the ring for. I should have killed him as well but I don’t really enjoy it, you know. I try very hard to be a good person and only ever kill when I have to. I need you to believe that, Lizzie. I really don’t want to kill you.” He looked at me, almost pleading for me to understand and give him my forgiveness. “I wanted to find that ring so badly,” he said, kneeling in front of me, his open palm running across my cheek, his thumb trailing behind in a soft caress. “I looked and looked for it the day I broke in here.” He paused and took a large breath. “This would have been so much simpler if you’d just left it lying around. Do you understand that? We would have had a chance Lizzie,” he said, agitation making his voice louder. He sat back on his heels and the knife glinted under the kitchen lights as he started to twist it around in his free hand. I watched as the emotion in his eyes changed.

  “But no - just when I was happy and trying to work out how we would make this work, you moved in with him,” he spat, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards him. “It should have been me you were making love to,” he whispered dangerously, squeezing my arm painfully tight, his agitation building. If I had any chance of getting out of this alive I knew I had to keep him calm. I’d watched a lot of crime television and knew an agitated killer was an unpredictable killer.

  “I...I...I don’t even know your name,” I stammered, trying extremely hard to settle the hysteria raging inside me.

  “Joe. My name is Joe,” he said, letting go of my arm and moving away from me. “You should tell me, you know.”

  “Tell you what?” I asked, my voice giving up the pretense and wobbling.

  “Tell me how you made love to him. Tell me what he did to you and if you liked it.” He sat down on one of my kitchen chairs, placing the knife on the table and waited for an explanation.

  I had no idea what to do next. I could tell him the truth, but I don’t think he would believe me. I could lie and probably piss him off even more. Weighing up my options, I noticed Harper walk into the room. I’m not sure where he had been hiding up till now, but if I was looking for a hero, he was not it. He took one look at Sedan Man and came running to hide behind me. I felt Joe tense as he picked the knife back up and looked at Harper, obviously trying to decide if he was a threat or not.

  “It’s okay. He won’t hurt you!” I said, putting myself between Harper and Joe. “Please, don’t hurt him,” I begged.

  I could count my heartbeats as I sat, barely able to breath, watching for Joe to put the knife back down.

  Slowly he did, only briefly taking his eyes off Harper as he got back up, walked to the cupboard above the sink and removed a glass. As he walked back towards the kitchen table, he lifted his jacket from the back of the chair and pulled a small flask from the pocket. He emptied the contents into the glass and pulled out a small pill bottle. Lifting the glass to his lips, he took a swig and stood back watching me.

  What I saw was the sick look of pleasure sit happily in his eyes.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Now, I’m going to undo your handcuffs. I’ve imagined our love making many times and I want our first time to be magical. It will be more exquisite if you can use both of your hands.” He reached back into the jacket pocket and pulled out a small key. As he walked towards me, I felt a tingle of hope. If I was released from the refrigerator at least I had a chance to get away f
rom him.

  “Oops, almost forgot,” he smiled, turning back towards the table and picking his knife back up. “If you do anything stupid, I will kill you. I would much prefer you to be alive when we make love, but it’s not a necessity.”

  I felt my knees buckle as any hope I may have had flew straight out the window. As he reached out and lifted my wrist, I felt the sharp pain run up my arm and winced. Joe gently caressed it as he released the handcuff.

  “Is it hurting you, Lizzie?”

  “Yes,” I answered, my wrist throbbing.

  “I’ll give you something for that in a moment. It won’t be much longer and you won’t feel any pain. I promise.” he smiled down at me. In his world, he was a hero.

  I could feel Harper trembling at my feet so I reached down and gave him a pat as Joe walked back to the table and upended the pill container. About fifty tablets fell out, some hitting the table while others rolled to the floor. If I took all those I really would be entering an eternal sleep. There were enough sleeping tablets there to down an elephant. Grabbing a handful of pills and picking up the glass, Joe started his walk back towards me.

  Meow!

  My attention, momentarily, turned to Cat. Thinking it was suppertime, Cat walked into the room and stood for a moment assessing the situation. I felt Harper’s body tense. Cat was totally oblivious to the danger of the situation and sauntered over to Joe. He started to wind himself around his legs, obviously thinking Joe was probably his best option at getting fed. Joe didn’t even seem to notice Cat as he walked back towards me, one hand full of pills and the other holding a glass of vodka. I counted his steps as he moved.

  Fear controlled me and stopped me from thinking clearly. I needed to stop it but images of what Joe wanted to do to me kept flashing in my mind. I knew I wanted escape and the pills, alcohol and death would definitely be the easiest way out but there was a part of me that couldn’t go through that without a fight. Fighting though could lead to getting my throat cut. This was not something I wanted to experience in a hurry. The closer he got, the faster my heart raced. I had to make a decision and fast.