Trial by Execution

by T. M. E. Walsh

  He hadn’t.

  And that told her all she needed to know, didn’t it?

  She was alone in this. If she was pregnant, she couldn’t be sure who the father was. Even if she wasn’t, she’d now risked everything she had with Danny, and for what? A future she was never going to have, not with her lover. He was out of reach but she’d been blind to that fact.

  She always fell for that; wanting what she couldn’t have.

  Danny had been so angry, distraught even – he’d told her to leave the office, said that she shouldn’t expect him home tonight.

  She opened up the thread from earlier, and started to type one last message. She’d try one final time to tell her lover, to demand he take responsibility for his actions, just as she was doing for hers.

  She’d be damned if she went down, ruined her life on her own.

  She sent the text. She waited, staring at the screen. She felt foolish.

  Was she expecting an instant reply?

  A part of her knew he wouldn’t respond. How could he? This was a lot to take in.

  Lives would be changed, relationships torn apart.

  Skye bit her bottom lip, fighting back the tears. She placed her right hand against her belly, and stared at the pregnancy test in her open handbag.

  What if? What if I am pregnant?

  Skye felt the cold draw into her then, despite the mild evening. The feeling that she was going to be abandoned and would be left to go it alone was strong. She fought back the tears as she got out of the car.

  She let herself into the house, went straight to the kitchen and pulled a bottle of wine from the fridge. She got as far as filling a glass, bringing it to her lips, smelling the fruity scent, before reason hit her.

  Her eyes lowered to her belly.

  What if?

  She set the glass down on the countertop and let her tears fall.

  Before she climbed into bed, emotionally exhausted, Skye took the pregnancy test into the bathroom with her. She spent several minutes reading the instructions, making sure she did everything right.

  When she’d returned the cap to the test, and set it down on the sink, she spent extra minutes watching the digital display screen, not really knowing if it was sadness or relief she felt at the result it gave her.

  *

  Skye awoke to the sound of the front door closing. She must have been in a light sleep to have heard it softly click shut. She lay on top of the bed, fully clothed, hand resting across her stomach.

  She quickly moved it away.

  The curtains were shut, but they were thin, and Skye could see the outlines of the furniture in the room fairly well. She looked to her right and confirmed her suspicion that Danny wasn’t beside her.

  She reached over for her phone, hit a button, and glanced at the screen.

  It was nearly midnight and Danny had only just returned home. He’d been at the office for hours, doing God knows what. Deciding their future, if they even had a future together.

  ‘Dan?’ she called out.

  There was no answer, but she heard feet on the stairs and felt shame at what she was putting him through.

  She had to come clean with everything, and face the inevitable.

  The truth – she owed him that much.

  Why hadn’t he switched the landing light on?

  She heard movement right outside the bedroom door.

  ‘Dan?’

  Skye sat up and waited, chewing on her bottom lip as the door slowly swung open.

  CHAPTER 45

  When Danny left the office, it was nearly midnight. He’d spent the evening at his desk, looking at the internet at baby clothes and all kinds of things he thought they’d need if Skye was in fact pregnant.

  Then he’d remember that, if she was, who was to say he was the father? He’d closed down the internet, feeling foolish.

  He had felt guilty, knowing he had been deeply unfair to Skye over the last few weeks. He thought about how scared she must be.

  But then the image of her, them, writhing around in their bed, the one he shared with her – or maybe it was the other man’s bed – wherever - it came into his head and threatened never to leave, like a stain which could never be erased.

  He’d been heartless, he knew that. Cross words had come out before he could stop them. She’d deserved it and more, though, the other part of him said, from somewhere within him.

  After hours spent by himself, deep in thought, he had made up his mind that he wanted Skye in his life. He’d go home, get all the facts. He wanted them, no matter how bad they were.

  Who was the other man? Was he married? Did he have kids?

  The prospect of hearing her answers made him nervous, made him feel sick.

  Now he was home, all he wanted to do was hold Skye, and tell her how sorry he was, and that nothing else mattered to him any more so long as she was happy.

  His was the mind of a man all over the place emotionally right now. He was a car wreck and, what was worse, he knew it.

  People would call him stupid, foolish, a mug. All these things and more when they found out.

  Seeing that the lights were off in the house and assuming Skye must be asleep, he shut the front door as quietly as he could when he let himself in.

  He didn’t bother to turn on any lights, and shook off his coat and pulled off his shoes in haste, eager to just climb in bed beside her and feel her skin next to his.

  He headed up the stairs.

  The bedroom door was ajar and he slowly pushed it open.

  His eyes hadn’t quite adjusted to the darkness and he felt his way towards the bed, hands outstretched. The softness of the bed greeted him and he smiled as he climbed on top of the duvet.

  He felt for her, but his hands found nothing but a stickiness under his touch on the bedding.

  It felt warm.

  He frowned and reached for the lamp on her side of the bed. When the light clicked on, his eyes took mere seconds to adjust.

  He looked at his hands.

  Blood was smeared across his palms.

  ‘What the…’

  He looked down and saw the blood on the duvet and sheets where Skye had been sleeping.

  Realisation hit like a punch to his gut and he backed off the bed at speed, his legs becoming tangled in the bedding.

  He fell off the other side, hitting the floor hard, jarring his core.

  His breathing was rapid, and a film of sweat coated his forehead.

  ‘Skye?!’

  His bowels clenched when he realised that whoever had hurt Skye could still be in the house.

  His eyes swept the room.

  It was then he saw it.

  A large black and white photograph of himself and Skye hung on the wall opposite him in a heavy wrought-iron frame.

  His eyes narrowed at the image.

  They had their arms wrapped around each other. They were laughing. Faces captured at that moment in time, a natural and beautiful moment. Except the photograph had changed since that morning.

  Danny got up from the floor and edged closer for a better look.

  He stood in front of the image and, as a realisation began to filter through his body, fumbled for his mobile in his trouser pocket and dialled 999.

  He held the phone to his ear as he waited for someone to pick up at the other end.

  He stared at the blood that had been smeared – no, drawn – in purposeful lines on the glass, right above Skye’s face.

  At the corners of her mouth, a line had been drawn out and up towards her ears.

  It looked like a bloody grin.

  A Glasgow Smile.

  CHAPTER 46

  Skye’s mouth felt dry when she came round, her lips coated with a sticky film.

  Her eyes let what little light there was filter through from beneath her eyelashes. A raging headache ensured it cut through the haze that clouded her mind and in that instant she remembered eve
rything.

  She bolted upright, only to be pulled back down with the clang of metal ringing in her ears.

  Her breath came in short, sharp bursts as she looked down and saw she was lying on top of a metal gurney, her wrists secured to it with handcuffs on either side of her.

  She heard a low sound then as she lay there, eyes trying to adjust to the darkness of wherever it was she had been taken. A deep, earthy smell hit her as if the air she breathed was tainted with specks of soil floating around her.

  ‘Come out!’ She rattled the cuffs against the table. ‘I know you’re here!’ she spat. ‘Show yourself.’

  The darkness around her was only broken by the presence of a lone candle flickering in the far corner. The heat in the room was stifling. She felt claustrophobia creeping in, she couldn’t breathe, and it seemed like the walls were about to cave in.

  Nausea and dizziness came back to Skye then and her head reeled.

  She lay back down flat on the gurney and fought back tears of fear and pain so fierce they were almost tangible.

  She remembered the blow she’d received to the back of her head when she’d tried to run from her bedroom. It hadn’t been Danny come home to her. She’d realised that far too late for any real chance of escape.

  The back of her skull ached and her skin felt tight where the blood had dried. Her bottom lip trembled as a shadow grew across the ceiling when a figure emerged from the darkness at the corner of the room.

  A grey face loomed in, staring down at her.

  Skye’s teeth gnawed at her bottom lip, so determined was she not to shed any more tears.

  She heard a rasping sound and saw the Stanley knife now brandished in front of her, blade being pushed up and retracted in quick succession.

  A whimper escaped her lips, as she realised what was to come.

  Her phone was held up to her face and her eyes narrowed at the sharp light from the screen. Her eyes finally focused on the messages she’d sent over the last few days. She swallowed hard. She squeezed her eyes tight.

  ‘I found the pregnancy test.’

  Skye stared, eyes unblinking.

  ‘The display had died… what was the result?’

  Skye felt a whimper escape her lips. ‘Will it make a difference?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  Skye heard a whimpering and rustling coming from elsewhere in the darkness. She knew what it was, and it terrified her.

  Feverish convulsions wracked her body then, and she let her mind crawl back into the darkness for refuge.

  She fell into oblivion.

  *

  When she regained consciousness again she was on the ground, face in the dirt, lying beside the gurney. Her left arm was numb and it took her a few moments to realise it was pinned down underneath her.

  The cuffs were gone.

  She moved her legs a little, listening all the time in case she wasn’t really alone. Her legs were still free from restraint.

  One thought raced through her mind then, clearing in the fog of her mind.

  She could run.

  Rolling onto her side, she looked around. The candle in the corner of the room was burning still, but all else was silent.

  Skye knew this could be her only chance.

  Mindful that this could be some sort of twisted game, she moved fast.

  She pushed herself forward, up on all fours, then, with her feet propelling her forward, she bolted for the blackened doorway ahead.

  The darkness soon gave way to a winding corridor of rugged and dirty stone walls.

  It was darker here, and she felt with her hands in front of her, grasping at the walls. She rounded a corner and felt something snatch at her ankles.

  She came crashing down hard.

  She bent forward, felt wire mesh tangled around her ankle.

  She pulled at it, yanking it free, and was soon up on her feet again. She heard the rustle of dried, decaying leaves underfoot as she ran. Tiny pinpricks of natural light were coming from somewhere, and she could see the graffiti tags that lined the walls ahead as light penetrated the dark.

  She tried to run faster, but she was cumbersome. She was exhausted, but as she rounded another corner, there was a shaft of sunlight ahead. It was enough to spur her on.

  She cried out in relief as she saw a jagged opening ahead.

  She grasped at air until her fingers found the edge of the entrance, her hands locking around what she now saw was rough, faded, red brick.

  She fell out of the entrance, her hair becoming ensnared in the cascade of ivy that hung over the opening. She hit the dry earth, and rolled onto her back.

  She looked into the mouth of what was her prison.

  It was like an underground shelter, long since forgotten, nature growing, vines reaching, trying to reclaim it, and swallow it into the earth.

  She scrambled back when she heard running. It echoed from back inside the darkness she’d just escaped.

  Sharp stones and twigs grazed her palms as she tried to stand.

  Then the darkness gave up the evil inside, body moving slow and steady.

  ‘Did you really think it would be that easy?’

  Skye was now on her feet, but unstable.

  Her body wanted to shut down, sleep for a thousand years. She swept her long hair back from her face. ‘Please…’

  She saw the Stanley knife brandished in front of her face again.

  A wail escaped Skye’s lips then.

  An involuntary cry, such as an animal makes when it’s cornered. That’s what she felt right now, with the prey circling her, ready to tear her to shreds.

  She turned on her heels and ran.

  The wolf gave chase.

  Skye ran a short distance, then came to a sudden halt, feet skidding on the loose, chalky stones underfoot, when she saw the deep hole in the ground. Eyes wide, she saw the shovel, fresh earth clinging to it.

  The force of the blow to her back sent her reeling, and she fell into the pit. She looked up, tried to clear the soil from her eyes.

  ‘No!’ Skye said, raising her hands high when she realized what was planned for her. ‘Please!’

  ‘I’ll give you a chance – that’s more than the others got.’

  Skye watched the shovel slice through the mound of earth beside the pit, tracked its every movement. Soil was dropped in beside her, landing at her feet.

  ‘No!’ she screamed again, and raised her hands to grip the edge of what would very soon be her grave.

  A forceful kick to the head sent Skye falling back down.

  It almost knocked her out cold.

  She felt specks of soil hitting her face as the earth was returned to the pit. She told herself to get up, try again. She felt her body sway when she got to her feet. Lights danced and flashed behind her eyelids.

  Open your eyes…

  She seemed to stay like that, suspended in a trance, exhaustion about to claim her body once and for all.

  Skye finally opened her eyes.

  Her vision was blurred. Large blocks of colour seemed to sway in her head. She couldn’t hear the sound of the shovel any more, she realised. She wanted to rub her eyes, but couldn’t move her arms.

  She blinked her eyelids tight. Opened them. Shut them. Opened them… raised her head.

  Shadows began to stop swaying, and became solid, real. The bhollow-like eyes looked down at her, head cocked to one side.

  Skye’s arms felt heavy.

  When she looked down, she realised she’d lost more time than she’d first thought. She’d been in a dreamlike state as many minutes had raced past. Precious minutes that would now cost her her life, she was certain.

  The earth was now up to her shoulders.

  She tried to move herself free, gritting her teeth.

  Then she heard that sound from before. Felt warm breath against her cheeks.

  She opened her eyes again and knew she had no choice but to stand th
ere and take what was coming.

  It was inevitable – this was to be her grave.

  She stood in the pit as dirt continued to be shovelled in, coating her face with a film of filth. Soil particles got down her throat, her chest, in her nose. She whimpered and her body shook, eyes squeezed shut as if that would make this any easier.

  Soon the pit was full.

  She heard the flat head of the shovel pat the soil flat around the space at her neck.

  This satisfying work was done.

  A brief pause and then Skye heard the rasping sound she’d heard back in the underground bunker.

  Her eyes slowly opened.

  The Stanley knife blade was just inches from her face. The blade was retracted once, then out again… then in and out.

  She clamped her mouth shut.

  She knew what was coming next, but she’d be damned if she’d make this easy.

  Her face felt like it was on fire.

  She remembered the first cut of the knife. It’d felt like her skin was being ripped over her cheeks, and salt poured over the tender flesh beneath.

  She remembered she couldn’t scream… Her eyes shot open.

  This is your last chance to save yourself…

  Now

  CHAPTER 47

  The incident room was a mass of people involved in the investigation, running around in organised chaos. Mobiles were plastered to ears, paperwork was being passed around, and an intense feeling of panic had been struck into the hearts of every man and woman working the case like some kind of evil entity.

  Lines of photographs showing the grim faces of the two young women from the area were stuck to the boards across the front of the room.

  Two barely recognisable faces in their ‘after’ shots.

  Two needlessly dead women.

  Another now missing.

  If she wasn’t dead already, she very soon would be.

  ‘Skye Bradshaw, twenty-eight years old, five-foot-six, slender build, long, ash-blonde hair, and green eyes,’ Claire said, pinning a recent photograph of Skye on the board.

  ‘Skye lives with her boyfriend, Danny Castle, in Welwyn Garden City, where they also work together at Ashton’s Interior Designs company. Danny’s her boss. So far there is no indication that Skye was infatuated with Raymond Knox or his past, and she had no contact with Tilly or Helena, not in person or via social media.’