She turned her head slowly and looked around. She was being kept in some sort of basement. The walls were damp and covered with green mould, the concrete floor was cold as ice, and a single bulb hung from a loose wire in the centre of the room, throwing off a dim glow.
She’d been restrained once again, her hands secured behind her back with cable ties this time, although fortunately her feet had been left free. She soon discovered that tugging against her restraints made the ties bite even more painfully into her skin and got her no further towards being free.
Jayne struggled to her feet and paced out her prison. It measured about twenty feet by fifteen, give or take. On the ceiling, off-centre, was a trap door with a rusty handle she’d have had no chance of reaching even if her hands weren’t restrained—and no doubt it would be locked from the outside anyway.
Her breathing escalated rapidly, her heart thundering in her chest. Desperate to stop a full-on panic attack, she forced herself to breathe slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth. She had to calm down and think her way out of this situation. She was smart, fit, young… and scared shitless.
A cold sweat broke out on her face, and her stomach contracted hard. She heaved several times, although all that came up was a tiny amount of yellow bile, which she spat onto the floor. Her stomach felt bruised after its failed efforts, and she sank to the ground, her knees tight against her chest, but that position made her shoulders scream with pain, so she stood up again. She was not going to cry. No way was she going to give that bastard the satisfaction.
What if he just left her there to die? No food or water—days and days of suffering before her body finally gave out. She shook her head to dispel such morbid thoughts. Her one good eye was focusing better now that it had adjusted to the dim light. The room was empty except for a bucket in the corner that was clearly Fisher’s idea of a toilet, and a few rusty old nails sticking out of the wall. She walked over to them. Maybe if she twisted her body just right and stood on tiptoes, she’d be able to use one of them to saw through her restraints.
She tried several times but couldn’t get the angle right. On the last attempt, she slipped, and a nail tore into her flesh.
She cried out as a stabbing pain shot through her hand. Warm blood trickled onto the concrete floor. She considered the merits of dying from tetanus instead of thirst and decided both were heinous. She was about to give her escape attempt another try when the trap door rattled and creaked as it was opened.
An aluminium ladder appeared. Fisher climbed down, and Jayne considered trying a Krav Maga kick to his solar plexus, but with her hands tied behind her back, her balance would be off. No, she needed to be smarter than that and think her way through rather than react in a rash manner.
“Awake at last, Jayne.”
“What did you give me?”
Fisher shrugged. He placed a bottle of water and a sandwich on the floor. “Thought you might be hungry.”
A surge of hope raced through her. If he’d brought her food and water, he might take her restraints off. “I am,” she said, deciding to try a different tack. “That’s very kind of you. Can you free my hands so that I can eat?”
Fisher barked out a single laugh. “Now, I know I’m not as smart as you, Miss Super-Lawyer, but I’m not completely stupid.”
“Then how do you expect me to manage?”
“You’ll figure it out.” He began to leave, but then his eyes zoomed in on the blood spots on the floor. He grabbed her arm and turned her around. She winced as he poked at the tear in her flesh. He walked over to the nails and pulled them out one-by-one, slipping them into his pocket. He wagged his finger in front of her face. “Very sloppy of me.”
Fisher began to climb up the ladder, and when he was about halfway, he glanced over his shoulder, a cruel tilt to his lips. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I’m afraid your boyfriend is expecting my call.”
Jayne’s heart jolted as he disappeared through the hole. The lock mechanism ground back into place.
She slumped to the floor, legs splayed out in front of her, which at least didn’t cause too much pain to her shoulders. No more than a few minutes passed before Fisher returned. Jayne scrambled to her feet as he jumped off the last couple of rungs and came towards her, holding a mobile phone.
“Want to say hello to your boyfriend?” he said, waving the phone in the air, his tone taunting and arrogant.
Jayne lunged, but Fisher stepped away, and she stumbled and fell, scraping the skin off her knees on the concrete floor.
“Take it easy. You have to promise to be good first. Can you be good, Jayne?”
She glanced up at him and nodded, swearing that the first chance she got, she was going to nail this fucker in the balls.
“Good girl. Now stand over here by me. Otherwise, we won’t get a signal.”
She did as he asked. He wrapped his arm tightly around her waist, his fingers pinching her hip, and she did her utmost not to cower away from him. He smelt of stale sweat and cigarettes, and as the stench permeated her nostrils, she wanted to heave.
Her heart leapt when she heard Rupe’s muffled voice.
“Rupe,” she yelled, but was cut off when Fisher wrapped an arm around her throat and pressed hard. She began to gag.
“In a minute,” Fisher said to her. “So, Whittingham, have you got my money and transport sorted?”
Jayne strained to hear what Rupe was saying, but Fisher had the phone too close to his ear.
“Good,” Fisher spoke into the phone. “Right, I’m going to let you go, Jayne, but be warned: make a stupid move, and you’ll regret it.”
He dropped his arm from around her neck and moved it to her chest, holding her tightly against him. Revulsion rolled through her as Fisher held the phone up to her ear.
“Rupe,” she managed to choke out.
“I’m here, babe,” he said, his wonderful voice so soft and gentle. She bit back the tears that threatened to fall, knowing that if he heard how frightened she was, it would make things worse for him.
“Are you okay?” he said.
“Yes.”
“We’re going to find you. Trust me.”
“I do.” She bit her lip, as hot tears seared her eyes. “Rupe?”
“Yeah, babe. I’m still here.”
Jayne took a deep breath and snapped her head backward, cracking Fisher hard in the face. He grunted, fell to his knees, and dropped the phone. It skidded across the room. Jayne threw herself after it, crashing painfully to the ground.
“I’m underground,” she shouted into the handset, the words tumbling from her lips. “It’s got a tiny window, but I can’t climb through. It’s cold. There’s a trap door, and he drops a ladder—”
Fisher hauled her to her feet and smashed his fist into her face. She screamed and crumpled to the floor as pain exploded in her head. She vaguely heard Rupe calling her name, but she couldn’t force out any words in response. Her vision flickered, and she tasted the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. The room started spinning. She was going to pass out.
“That was very stupid,” Fisher hissed. He kicked her hard in the abdomen, and she curled into a ball as blackness consumed her.
Rupe almost slammed his phone into the wall but stopped himself just in time and punched it instead. The skin across his knuckles burst open, and blood seeped between his fingers.
“Open the app,” Mike urged. “We’ve got him.”
Rupe shook his head. “He was using a different phone. He’s not as dumb as we first thought.”
“So what does that mean?” Mike said in an irritated tone.
Rupe sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands. Jayne had been so brave, but her information was virtually useless without a trace. Oh God, what was Fisher doing to her right at that moment?
He stared at the floor. “We have to start over, trace the number, and hope the phone is switched on, but for all we know, he’ll rotate through every phone call. It’s like trying to
hit a moving target.”
Mike expelled a curt breath. “So you’re giving up?”
Rupe’s head snapped up, and he glared at Mike. “No, I’m fucking not. Just give me a goddamn minute to get myself together and plan the next move. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me to hear her voice, to sense her fear, and not be able to do a fucking thing to help her?”
Mike’s face softened, and he rested a hand on Rupe’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
Silence stretched across the room before Rupe let out a low sigh. He rose from the chair he’d collapsed into and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Mike asked.
“To find Jayne,” Rupe replied.
34
When Jayne regained consciousness, she was lying on her side, her knees curled up to her chest. She groaned and struggled to sit up. The burning sensation in her face was agonizing, and given the pain in her side from where Fisher had kicked her, she probably had some bruised or cracked ribs. But it had been worth it because she’d taken control. Yeah, she’d paid for it, but that didn’t matter. She’d been able to tell Rupe something, and that had to be better than nothing. She prayed the information had been useful. As long as she was still alive, she had a chance of being saved. Or saving herself.
She staggered to her feet, her whole body aching from the chilly basement, the hard floor, and the beating Fisher had given her. God, these cable ties were excruciating. Her hands felt about twice their normal size, and she worried that she could lose them if her circulation got much worse. She had to find a way to get them off her. Maybe then, she’d be able to take Fisher by surprise and have a chance of escape. She searched her mind for any small piece of information that would help, but she came up empty.
Then, out of nowhere, she remembered a military documentary she’d watched with Kyle years before. She’d been bored senseless, although he’d been transfixed. Part of the documentary included a piece on escaping capture if you were taken as a prisoner of war and, specifically, how to break out of cable ties. Her body started to jangle with excitement. Yes, she remembered now. She just hoped she had enough strength left in her arms to do it.
Standing in the centre of the room, Jayne bent her body at a ninety-degree angle. She lifted her hands as high as she could behind her back—silently thanking all those hours spent doing yoga—and slammed them into her backside, hard. Nothing happened except an agonizing pain in her wrists so intense that tears sprang from her eyes. She bit her lip to stop herself crying out, in case Fisher was anywhere close by and heard her.
She had to try again. Steeling herself against the pain she knew was coming, she lifted her arms again. Slam! Nothing. A squeal of pain escaped her lips, and she hesitated, her ears straining for any sign of Fisher. When there was none, she raised her arms for the third time. They smashed into her bottom, and her hands sprang apart. The zip tie skipped across the concrete floor and came to rest by the pee bucket.
She clamped a hand over her mouth to stop herself yelling with joy. She’d done it! As the blood began to flow unrestricted, an agonizing feeling shot through her hands. She whimpered then clenched her jaw tightly. It had been worth it. Her hands were free, and now she had a chance of taking Fisher by surprise. But there was nothing in the cellar that she could use as a weapon, not since he’d removed the nails. She stared over to where the zip tie lay as an idea took hold.
If it worked, she had a chance of getting out of there.
If it didn’t, she feared what Fisher would do.
As full feeling returned to her hands, the pain receded a little. Her fingers were badly swollen and a pretty nasty shade of purple, and she had deep imprints in her wrists where the cable ties had embedded themselves in her flesh. But her plan was in place. All she now needed was to wait for the opportunity to arise, and when it did, she’d be ready.
Now that she had a strategy to escape, Jayne was impatient to implement it. But as time passed with no sign of Fisher, her frustration escalated.
“Hey,” she screamed, after hours had passed with no sign of him. “Hey, I need help here.”
She paused, her ear tilted upwards for any sign that Fisher was coming. Or any sound at all. Nothing. She rubbed her painful wrists and paced the floor, partly to alleviate her angst and partly to help with her aching back. She drank the water and ate the sandwich Fisher had brought her before she’d spoken to Rupe. More hours passed. Tired, scared, and agitated, she slumped against the wall and dropped to the floor. Hugging her knees into her chest, she comforted herself by humming one of her favourite songs. Her eyelids drooped, and despite the ever-present fear, she drifted into a restless sleep.
She was awoken some time later by a faint scratching noise. Craning her neck, she listened carefully. Yes, there it was again. It sounded like someone shuffling. Stiff and sore, she clambered to her feet and shook out her arms and legs. The shuffling changed into the grinding sound of the trap-door bolt being opened. Springing into action, Jayne grabbed the bucket. Her eyes watered from the strong smell emanating from the plastic container. This was going to work. It had to.
She stood behind where he’d drop the ladder and waited. As the bottom rung hit the floor, Fisher began to climb down. When he was about halfway, he glanced over his shoulder. Taking her opportunity, Jayne hurled the contents of the bucket right into his face. Her shot was spot on. Fisher howled and pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. Jayne grabbed the belt loop on his jeans and yanked hard. He lost his balance and fell off the ladder. As he crashed to the ground, Jayne lifted her leg and slammed her foot hard into his crotch. His piercing shriek was high enough to shatter glass, and he curled into a tight ball.
She threw herself up the ladder. She was almost at the top when she felt Fisher catch hold of her ankle. Jayne shook her leg hard and managed to free herself. She clawed at the earth, hauling herself up. As she turned around, Fisher was right behind her.
“No!” she yelled. She kicked out, catching him squarely in the chest. He plummeted back down with a howl. Jayne’s heart crashed against her ribcage, and with trembling hands, she hoisted the ladder out of the hole.
“Oh, God, help me.” She heaved the trap door over. It slammed shut. Jayne slid the lock into place before stumbling out into the night.
35
Jayne sprinted through the trees, the bark and broken twigs beneath her feet cutting painfully through her tender flesh. Her lungs screamed for a break, but her brain demanded that she keep on going. For all she knew, Fisher could be chasing her, and if he caught up with her, he’d kill her.
The woods were dense, the light from the full moon barely breaking through the foliage, and very quickly, Jayne became disorientated. She skidded to a halt, her ears straining for sounds of being followed. In the distance, an owl hooted. Jayne jumped, and she broke out in goose bumps. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, even though it wasn’t cold above ground. The summer night cast a mild breeze over her bare skin.
When she was fairly sure she was still alone, she began scanning the area for signs of a pathway. Paths led to roads—and roads led to help.
She lost track of time. As her body tired, she began to lose hope of finding her way out of the woods. If she weren’t so scared, she’d wait for first light. At this time of the year, dawn couldn’t be very far away. But no, she had to keep moving. If Fisher did manage to escape, the more she moved around, the less likely it was that he’d be able to find her.
And then another thought occurred to her: what else could be lurking in these woods? England might not rival Australia when it came to nasty critters, but she vaguely remembered a story about the growing number of what the press called “false widow spiders,” which didn’t sound like something she wanted to come into contact with, especially with no shoes on. And what about snakes?
With a renewed sense of urgency, she pressed on, but when a sharp pain shot through the sole of her foot, she cried out. Spotting a fallen log, she limped over and exami
ned the damage as well as she could in the dim light. Blood coated her fingers, and her foot throbbed in agony. She wouldn’t be able to tell how bad the injury was until the sun came up, but one thing she did know—she couldn’t put any weight on it.
Her running curtailed, she limped through the trees, hot tears pricking her eyes. She would not cry. Tears would solve absolutely nothing, apart from diminishing what little she could see.
The burning sensation in her throat grew the more she moved, and her lips were dry and cracked. She tortured herself with images of cool streams and ice-cold drinks straight from the fridge.
Her thoughts turned to Rupe. She couldn’t begin to imagine the torment he was going through. Not knowing where she was had to be driving him into a madness of sorts, and she knew—she just knew—that he’d be thinking the worst.
Jayne glanced upwards, and her heart leapt with hope. A faint glow was spreading across the sky. Dawn was breaking, and that meant she’d have a much better chance of finding her way out.
She spotted the trunk of a tree that had been felled, leaving behind a low stump. She realised she was wasting her time and what little energy she had left, and she decided to rest. Her eyes darted around, on the lookout for any signs that Fisher had miraculously managed to free himself. The common-sense side of her brain told her that he had no chance unless he’d built a secret door to the underground basement, which seemed beyond the realm of possibility. Those walls had been solid. She should know. She’d examined every inch.
Before the sun had peeked over the horizon, Jayne decided that she had enough light to start moving again. A quick glance at her foot revealed a two-inch gash in her heel. Blood had coagulated, but from what she could make out, it would definitely need stitches and a healthy dose of antibiotics.
Mismatch Page 19