by Susan Elle
After working all day and most of the night, it is eight-thirty before either of the two men wake. Logan yawns heavily, turns over towards Catherine only to find the bed empty. Frowning, he sits up and looks around the room. She hasn’t put the dress back on that she wore yesterday, he notes, and can’t believe he slept through her taking a shower and dressing.
Getting up, Logan crosses to the bathroom and finds it empty – looking around he also finds it bone dry. There is no way that anyone has taken a shower that morning and that is not like Catherine.
Not at all worried, and thinking that he will find her bent over her laptop, Logan pads barefoot to his office with just a bathrobe pulled round him.
When he enters and finds Catherine not there and her laptop shut down, the worried feeling in his gut makes itself known more intensely than ever.
“Catherine!” He goes through the whole house shouting her name. Mrs Baines comes out of the lounge having begun her cleaning routine. “Have you seen Catherine,” Logan asks her, then grasps both her arms when she only shakes her head. “Wasn’t she down here when you arrived?” His brown eyes are now huge and dark with worry.
His fingers are biting into her arm, but Mrs Baines makes no protest. “I arrived at seven, my usual time,” she tells him, “and just assumed you hadn’t got up yet. The house was quiet so I got on with my work and didn’t hear a thing till you, just now.” Her brows crease with worry; she took to Catherine right off. “Mr Sayers, Logan...,” she speaks softly but firmly so as to calm him down, “...perhaps you should tell me what’s been going on? I might be able to help.”
He gives her a brief outline of the situation, Catherine’s past, what they have been trying to do, and what he found when he woke up.
Mrs Baines studies Logan for a moment before stating bluntly, what she thinks. “You think she found something and has gone to follow it up – do you know what it is?” she asks, then spots Ben coming down the stairs looking very interested in Logan’s answer.
“No I don’t,” he looks up at Ben who has stopped half way down the stairs, “can you get into her laptop and find out what she was looking at last?”
Ben nods, already turning to head up to Logan’s office.
Logan turns back to Mrs Baines, “I want you to call the police and ask to speak to Inspector Harper, he’s in charge of the investigation. Just explain what’s happened – I know we don’t know for certain that Catherine has gone after this maniac, but knowing her I think it’s a high probability.”
Mrs Baines nods and moves back into the lounge to make the call.
Logan takes the stairs two at a time. When he enters his office, Ben looks grim. “This is the last thing she was working on,” and he turns the laptop for Logan to see, “do you know him?”
Looking carefully at the photo, Logan shakes his head. “But I think I might know who would,” he tells Ben. “Is there anything more you can do here?”
Ben nods, “Catherine has already gone into his financials – I should be able to see if he’s staying at a hotel or renting a property nearby.”
Logan tries to clear his head to think properly. “I’m going to get dressed; if you want to come with me to Robert’s house you’ll be more than welcome?”
“That would be great,” Ben tells him. “I’ll print this photo off, and any other info I can find, then I’ll be ready when you are.”
When the men meet up down stairs in the hallway, they are surprised to see Mrs Baines with her coat on waiting for them. “With your permission, I’m coming with you,” she tells Logan. “You might find my background in psychology useful if it comes to talking to him – he’s likely to be very excitable and possibly angry that Catherine would dare to confront him.”
With a grateful smile, Logan agrees, “I won’t allow you to put yourself in any danger, but I would be grateful for your help and advice on handling this chap.”
Catherine stands outside a house, in a row of houses that has nothing about it that says ‘butchering bastard inside’. But she knows better and looking at it, imagining him still asleep, her anger is growing. No doubt he is dreaming of his next victim – has he already begun the stalking process? Has he been stalking her?
That question is answered moments later when her head is pulled painfully back by her hair. “You’re a clever little girl,” his deep Welsh accent almost makes her lose control of her bladder. ‘That voice,’ the one she heard as a child, the one that has haunted even her waking hours lately, is now being breathed directly into her ear. “I wanted to take my time with you, Catherine,” he tells her. “I’ve been following you for the last couple of years, and very entertaining it’s been,” he sneers, his deep voice resonating in her head.
“I don’t believe you,” she grinds out between clenched teeth. “I would have smelt the shit on my shoes if you’d been anywhere near me for all that time.”
Her hair might still be short, but it is long enough to allow him to grasp it tightly and pull it extremely hard. But before she can cry out his other hand clamps over her mouth and her scream of pain is effectively muffled. Catherine’s eyes are wide, shocked, the memories of her mum’s stifled screams echoing loudly in her head. “I’m going to enjoy you so much,” his lips are right next to her ear and then his teeth bite down hard on her earlobe.
Her eyes water with the pain but this time she does not allow herself to utter even a moan. Instead, she sinks her teeth into the fleshy palm that is still covering her mouth and hears, with delight, his bellowed oath. “You fucking bitch,” he is dragging her towards the house and Catherine fights him every step of the way. She knows that once he gets her inside her chances of survival will not be good.
Standing on Robert Kingsley’s doorstep, Logan rings the bell and when he gets no answer, pounds the door with his fist.
It is almost nine o’clock and Robert is up and dressed, just making his way down stairs when he hears the noise. “What’s going on?” he asks his housekeeper who is approaching the door with some trepidation.
“I don’t know, Mr Kingsley,” she replies nervously, “but it sounds urgent, and a bit frightening,” she admits.
“Not to worry, Hazel,” he reassures her, “I’ll get the door; you go back to what you were doing.”
Glad that Mr Kingsley has taken charge, Hazel hesitates not wanting to leave him completely alone with whoever is still hammering on the front door.
Robert frowns when he looks out to see Logan Sayers frantically pacing up and down between hammering on his door. “Logan, what the hell?” he asks once the door is open and he can see his friends obvious anguish.
“I need your help, Robert,” Logan thrusts out the hand that is holding the printout of the man Catherine had been looking into on her laptop. “Who is he and where does he live?”
Robert frowns down at the picture then smiles, “That’s Charley Edwards, he’s the manager of our Sheriton warehouse,” he tells Logan, then his frown returns when his friend continues to look worried. “What is it, Logan? What do you think Charley has done?” Opening the door wider he beckons Logan inside.
“I think he may have Catherine,” Logan explains, “or rather, I think Catherine may have gone after him, which amounts to more or less the same thing,” he states angrily. “Either way, she’s in imminent danger from the man who raped and tortured her mother to death.”
Taken aback, Robert Kingsley gives a mirthless laugh. “You can’t be serious,” he exclaims, “Charley has worked for us for the past two years and has never been the least bit of trouble. Indeed,” Robert defends, “he was promoted to manager shortly after taking the warehouse job – he’s always been very efficient and good at handling the workforce. I cannot believe he is the man you’re looking for.”
“Just give me his address, Robert, and we’ll find out for sure,” Logan tells him.
But Robert isn’t convinced. “I can’t just give out employee’s personal information, Logan, you know that.” It is Robert’s turn t
o pace as he considers his friend’s request. “However, I can see that you are genuinely worried; though you’ve given me no sound cause as to why you should be.”
Logan takes in a deep breath attempting to steady himself, then drawing himself up to his full six feet four inches, reaches out and catches hold of Robert’s arm just as he is pacing by him. “This,” he grinds out acidly, “is Catherine we’re talking about. The woman you told me you hold in very high regard. A woman, if I’m not mistaken, you yourself would have been keen to ask out had I not been in the picture.” Logan watches as the younger man has the grace to blush. “I’m begging you, Robert,” his voice now low and wholly sincere, “don’t let Catherine suffer because of me.”
A moment later, Robert smiles. “I’m not a sore loser,” he tells Logan, “if you really believe Charley has anything to do with Catherine, or her mother, I’m coming with you.”
Logan instinctively makes to protest, but thinks better of it. “Come on then,” he claps Robert on the back then has to reach out quickly to steady him. “Sorry, I forget my own strength sometimes.”
“Yes, well,” Robert frowns up at the big man, “just save it all up for Charley Edwards and stop battering those who are on your side.”
Together they go out to the car and the occupants waiting inside.
“For god’s sake,” Ben rounds on Logan as he slides into the car, “where the hell have you been, who knows what that maniac has already done to Catherine?”
Then Robert gets in the other side. “My fault,” Robert turns to Ben as he gets in the front passenger seat, “I took some convincing, but I’m on board now.” He gives Logan the address and they take off at breakneck speed.
Less than ten minutes later, they are outside Charley Edwards’ rented house, no signs of life or evidence of Catherine having been there.
Opening her eyes to slits, Catherine tries to look around her without giving away the fact that she is no longer out cold. Edwards beat the crap out of her once he got her indoors, but he is nowhere to be seen right now.
Hearing the clink of metal on metal, her stomach clenches with the memory of another time when she heard a similar sound, but she isn’t a child anymore. Gritting her teeth, she knows it is now or never; once he ties her up it will be all over.
Wiping a hand under her bloody nose, Catherine eases her way out of a small dining room and into the kitchen. She has just slid a very large carving knife out of its block when Edwards comes into the room.
Whirling round she sees his shocked face, then the anger that gives it an ugly twist of sheer madness. “You fucking bitch,” he spits out, eyes bulging with rage, “why can’t you ever do what you’re supposed to.” He lunges forward but Catherine waves the knife threateningly.
Amazingly, she isn’t afraid; the spectre of him haunting her waking life and terrifying dreams has been so much worse than this reality, Catherine realises. “Come on, Edwards,” she brandishes the knife with relish now, “I want the pleasure of pushing this into your cowardly gut.” He doesn’t know what to do; she can see him trying to figure out his next move having never been in this situation before.
“What’s the matter, Edwards, never taken a woman on who can fight back?” She is sneering at him, baiting Edwards into making a mistake. Mentally she cocks a finger at him, willing him forwards.
“You’re nothing,” he screams, spittle flying as he shakes his head from side to side. “You’re just another cunt who doesn’t deserve to live – you’re weak and worthless, you little bastard!”
Catherine can hear his insanity, and thinks she detects a clue as to where his thoughts just veered off to. “Is that what she called you?” she asks more quietly. “The cunt that gave birth to you, did she think you were a weak and worthless little bastard?”
He seems to go into himself for a split second then comes back angrier than ever. “Don’t you talk about my mother,” he yells and takes a step forward but stops when he again sees the sharp blade Catherine is holding. “My Grandpa told me about women like you, putting yourself about like the trollop you are,” his eyes never leave the blade that is standing between him and his quarry. “The Lord has forsaken you, bitch, and he won’t help you when I punish you for your shameful sins.”
Catherine can see that she isn’t going to hold Edwards off for much longer; he is looking insane enough to walk onto the carving knife if it means getting his hands on her. For a brief moment, she has a flash of him doing just that, the warmth of his blood spilling over her hand and down her arm – then her blue eyes turn diamond hard and bright and her soft lips curve into a snarling imitation of a smile. “Come get me, Edwards,” she taunts, her right hand waving the long blade side to side, her left held out with her fingers crooked beckoning him forward. Moving her feet into a fighting stance, she readies herself to meet his charge, and then all hell breaks loose as Logan’s impressive broad shoulders break in the back door of the house.
He takes the situation in quickly and decides to stand firm. “Are you alright?” he asks seeing her bloody nose and a large bruise on her cheek that is beginning to bloom painfully.
“I’m fine,” she growls not taking her eyes off Edwards or lowering the knife, “now get the fuck out, we can take care of this can’t we Edwards?” she challenges and sees his answering glare and nod of acceptance. Then he pulls a sharpened screwdriver out of his back pocket and mimics her combative stance.
The next voice to speak takes them all by surprise. “You’re mum wouldn’t want this, Catherine,” Mrs Baines’ soft voice rings out in the heavy silence of the kitchen. “You can’t undo her pain by making him suffer,” she watches as Catherine’s frown deepens and her body crouches ready to pounce. “Be true to yourself, Catherine, to the woman your mum taught you to be,” she urges quietly, “and not what this monster is trying to make you.”
Too far away to take Edward’s out without risking Catherine, Logan forces himself to wait for the right moment to strike; and he is with Catherine, a knife in the gut is no more that this bastard deserves. But he doesn’t want it to be Catherine that drives it home she has already suffered enough.
“He’s tortured so many innocent people over so many years,” Catherine reasons bitterly, “and you want me to let this cretin live – not a chance!”
Then the decision is taken out of her hands as Edwards gives a loud yell and charges forward, the deadly sharpened point of the screwdriver aimed right at Catherine’s eyes.
Logan lets out an almighty, “No!” and throws himself at Edwards.
The scuffle is chaotic; Ben and Robert have joined Mrs Baines at the backdoor, having called the police for assistance first. “What the hell...,” Ben gapes, then both men lurch into the fray and try to pull the two men apart, Catherine having been pushed none too gently aside.
A cacophony of sirens sound in the street, but no one in the house either hears or takes any notice. Ben and Robert manage to restrain the still struggling Edwards when an officer with handcuffs restrains him more effectively and another helps him cart Edwards away. Hands on knees and drawing in gasping breaths, Ben and Robert laugh with relief that the fight is over and everyone has come out of it alive.
Inspector Harper speaks to his men as they leave with Edwards then moves forward the better to observe the scene. “He is the illegitimate son of Charles Llwyd,” he informs them all, looking particularly at Catherine, “so, in a very real way you lead us right to him,” he tells her, crouching to meet her at eye level. “We had a number of suspects, but only one who is Welsh spoken.” He takes Catherine’s hand, “Based on the work you did, finding all those assaults that took place in Glywyth, we did a thorough background check and found his mother, Morganna Edwards,” he looks over at Logan when Catherine still doesn’t respond and receives a nod of encouragement. “Catherine,” he gives her hand a squeeze, “she told us that Charles Llwyd is the father of her son, Charles Edwards, that’s why their voices sound so similar,” again he gives her hand a gentl
e squeeze but still gets no response. Looking over at Logan, the Inspector shakes his head, “I’m so sorry.”
Logan crawls over to where Catherine is sat on the kitchen floor, not moving or uttering a single word. Remembering what happened to her as a child, he can only hope that she won’t withdraw so entirely into herself as she had then. “Catherine...?” He moves slowly forward as the Inspector moves away and speaks quietly. “It’s me, Catherine... Logan,” he tells her and takes her hand gently in his. “It’s over, now, he’s gone forever and they’ll never let him out.” Catherine, don’t leave me – not like this.
Barely blinking, Catherine gives no sign that she has heard a single word he’s spoken, and Logan turns to Mrs Baines, a hopeless plea in his dark eyes.
Moving forward, Mrs Baines sits on the floor next to Catherine. “It’s alright to grieve, Catherine,” she explains and puts an arm across her shoulders to draw her in to a motherly hug. “But it isn’t alright to hide from all this, even within yourself,” she prompts but receives no reply.
Logan closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against a kitchen unit – after everything that has happened it is all for nothing, he is going to lose Catherine anyway. A groan of agony brings everyone’s eyes to look at Logan. “You’re hurt,” Robert observes inanely, “oh god, Logan, the bastard stabbed you.”
Another groan from Logan is all it takes, “Logan...?” He could have danced a jig at the sound of Catherine’s voice, if it hadn’t been for the eight-inch screwdriver sticking out of his side.
Epilo gue
Catherine awakes in Logan’s arms, her cheek soft and warm against the hard muscle of his expansive chest. “Good morning, birthday girl,” he gives her a squeeze and she groans dramatically.