Killing You Softly

by Lucy Carver

  ‘Did you find out what was bugging him?’

  ‘Yeah, finally. He told me he didn’t think they’d got the right guy.’

  I let out a short groan then drew in a deep breath. Thanks for that, Hooper. Now Jack would be worried out of his mind about me again. ‘He’s changed his tune,’ I muttered, ‘given that Hooper was the one who spent all that time and energy digging dirt on Marco.’ I needed time to get my head round this new situation before I was ready to face reality and tell Jack about the latest poison dropped into my ear: ‘Hey, Alyssa. You never really thought it was Marco, did you?’

  Twenty-four hours to find out the truth and counting down, minute by minute.

  PLEASE HELP ME!

  Jack used the long pause to carry on explaining. ‘No, listen. We both know Hooper’s smart. He has a sixth sense about these things. I said to him, if Marco’s not guilty, why did he take off in his car with Alyssa the way he did? An innocent guy doesn’t run.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Hooper already had an answer for that. According to him, Marco was in Monaco at the same time as Galina last summer – you know how good he is on researching dates and stuff. So the way he sees it is that Marco went joyriding in his Dad’s speedboat – remember?’

  ‘I do,’ I sighed. I was finding it hard to focus, desperately wondering how to break the news to Jack that Hooper’s hunch was right and our psycho had been busy filming me again.

  ‘Well, Hooper did some more digging into news reports etcetera and it turns out that Marco’s dad’s boat was the same model, same colour as the boat involved in the accident with Galina and her two mates – where one died, OK? And the dates were close. So Hooper’s new theory is that Marco kept his dad’s boat for a day or two, during which he accidentally killed the kid in the boating incident, but the Conti family covered it up and the Monaco police never prosecuted.

  ‘And Hooper thinks that’s why Marco went on the run when Charlie warned him the cops were after him over here in England?’

  ‘It would make sense if you think about it.’

  ‘Which we didn’t,’ I admitted. ‘Because we were far too busy thinking about other stuff.’

  ‘Anyway, Alyssa, do you see what I’m saying to you now?’

  I pictured him lying in pain beneath the blue cover of his hospital bed, his face pale under the stark overhead reading light, turning over the information, tormented by the new possibility that Psycho Man was still free but he, Jack, was unable to do anything about it.

  ‘I’m trying to warn you just in case Hooper turns out to be right – if they got the wrong guy …’

  ‘… Then I’m still in danger,’ I interrupted. ‘And actually he is – he’s right.’

  ‘What are you saying – that the psycho’s still out there?’

  ‘Still sending me messages. Still filming Galina,’ I admitted, though telling the truth was like pulling teeth.

  ‘Oh Jesus, Alyssa!’

  ‘I know. But I’m safe. I’m staying in the village with Ursula. No one knows where I am except her and Jayden.’

  And Raisa and Mikhail. And probably the owner of Five-a-Day and half the curtain-twitching, nosey neighbours in Chartsey Bottom.

  ‘Try not to worry,’ I told Jack. ‘Keep your phone switched on. I’ll call you as often as I can.’

  He ignored me and spoke over me again. ‘Don’t move. Don’t go outside. Don’t do anything. I’m going to call the cops.’

  ‘What do we do?’ During my conversation with Jack, Mikhail had put his arm round Raisa’s shoulder and she’d wiped her eyes. She turned to me, asking me the question with a desperate edge to her voice.

  I put up my hands, palms towards her. Don’t ask me. I don’t know. I am scared beyond belief.

  ‘Alyssa, you know my Galina,’ she went on. ‘She told me – you talk to her about everything. You are her best friend.’

  I shared a room with her for a short time – I knew very little about her actually. This was something else I didn’t say out loud. If I really was Galina’s best friend, what a lonely life she must have led up till now.

  ‘I want to help. I’ve been in contact with the police and we’re all trying to find the answer,’ I insisted.

  ‘You two talk about boys.’

  ‘No.’

  Raisa didn’t believe me. ‘Girls talk. She tells you who she likes, who likes her.’

  ‘Honestly, she didn’t.’

  ‘One of these boys – they take her now and keep her in prison, make this bad film of her with her hands tied.’

  I had to give it to Raisa straight and make her understand. ‘She didn’t have a boyfriend at St Jude’s. She was a new girl. She didn’t have time to start a relationship or at least, if she did, she chose not to tell me much about it. Anyway, she’d stayed in her room – our room – after she cut her lip. She was too embarrassed to go out.’ It was time for me to glance at Mikhail to study his reaction.

  He looked away and muttered something to Raisa in Russian.

  ‘Mikhail only does his job,’ she translated. ‘Galina runs away into the village. He must follow.’

  ‘And punch her in the face?’

  She shook her head. ‘Galina, my poor baby, she falls to the ground. She is in trouble with her father for running away many times before. She makes up this story.’

  ‘Leave me!’ Galina yells at Mikhail, who’s in hot pursuit. ‘I tell my father what you do!’

  I remembered how Galina fled across the street into the churchyard.

  Beautiful girl runs away from thick set man in suit and tie. Jack, Marco and – I we can’t stand by and let this happen.

  Jack and Marco tackle Mikhail. I follow Galina into the church porch. She’s sobbing on a stone bench, hiding her face in her hands.

  I ease her hands down, see a deep cut on her bottom lip and a trickle of blood. It’s not an accident, she says. It’s Mikhail – he punched her in the face. He tried to kidnap her. ‘I am scared but I escape,’ she says. ‘I run to village. I am very, very scared.’

  Jack and Marco pin Mikhail to the pavement.

  What do I do?’ Galina whimpers. ‘Who will believe me?’

  ‘Me,’ I decided. ‘I believe you, Galina.’

  But I’d been the only one. Salomea hadn’t backed her when she took her call. The police hadn’t either – they’d questioned Mikhail and released him without charge.

  ‘What sort of trouble would she have been in with her father?’ I asked now.

  ‘Big trouble,’ Raisa said. ‘He warned her, if you run away again, I will take away money, bag business – everything. You will stay home, not go shopping, not see friends.’

  ‘So she lied about you?’ I asked Mikhail, who nodded.

  ‘It is hard for Mikhail. Like me, he has been with Galina since she was small girl. He sees her sad life. He cares about her.’

  Really? This guy with the muscles and stubble had a heart that could care?

  Doubt must have shadowed my face because Mikhail stepped forward to speak for himself and prove it. ‘I show you. I put on shoes, jacket. Right now we look for Galina.’

  I still didn’t know whether I believed him but his deep voice and animal energy swept me along and took me with him out of the house on to the dark street, with Raisa trailing behind, zipping up her jacket and hurrying to catch up.

  ‘Which boys does Galina know?’ she asked, taking up her old train of thought. ‘Say names. We visit their houses now, ask questions.’

  ‘She knows Marco, but obviously it’s not him,’ I replied. We came out of Raisa’s cul de sac on to a short stretch of hill leading down to Main Street. ‘I guess she knows Luke, but he’s with Connie so he’s off limits for Galina, and Jack, my Jack – ditto off limits, plus Hooper and Will from St Jude’s. She might have bumped into a few of the Ainslee Comp crowd, either here in the village, or back at St Jude’s when the Comp kids came to play football. People like Tom Walsingham and Alex Driffield.’ I was running through the
list as fast as I could, wondering where the hell we were going, unable to get out of my head the gory image of headless chickens running around like crazy before they dropped.

  ‘Wait!’ I cried.

  Mikhail stopped outside the boarded-up front window of JD Workshop.

  I see a dark room with rusty tools hanging from racks on the wall – dozens of spanners of various sizes, three hammers, another row of spanners and wrenches. Cut. Open on red graffitti dribbling down a rough, whitewashed wall. ‘PLEASE HELP ME!’

  I slammed the flat of my hand against the boarded window.

  ‘All the birds of the air fell a-sighing and a-sobbing …’ Cut. Galina sits on a rough wooden bench with her hands tied behind her back.

  I slammed the board a second time then leaned against it. ‘She’s somewhere around here,’ I predicted in a whisper.

  Mikhail and Raisa stared uncertainly at me.

  ‘We were looking at a workshop on the video. Galina’s kidnapper stole the Merc from JD’s which means he knows the layout of the building. There’s a yard round the back with small workshops. I think maybe he chose one of those to hide Galina.’

  Raisa rapidly interpreted and before we could consider what to do Mikhail was running through the archway at the side of the small car showroom into a stone-flagged yard. We followed. A movement-sensitive light flashed on as we entered the courtyard. And there we were, looking at six units, three of which were run down and unused. The rest were padlocked, with shabby signs over the door. ‘Harrison Plumbing Supplies’, ‘Dean Mackay, Electrician’ – and on down the row.

  Mikhail chose the nearest unit. The sign above read ‘Chartsey Lawn Mower Repairs’. He shoulder-charged the wooden door and after three attempts broke the flimsy lock and smashed the door off its hinges. Raisa covered her eyes, unable to look. I joined Mikhail to peer inside a workshop no more than five metres square. We saw big mowers, small mowers, electric and petrol, in various states of reassembly. There were no hidden corners, no Galina.

  Mikhail swore and moved on to break into the next premises. My previous confidence began to waver. What if I was wrong?

  The second door gave way at Mikhail’s first attempt – it was one of the disused units, empty except for dust, cobwebs, a stack of empty plastic sacks in one corner and rusty oil cans strewn across the floor.

  Mikhail breathed heavily. He ran at the third door, secured only by a small padlock which broke under the force of his shoulder charge. Dean Mackay, Electrician would not be pleased.

  Empty again except for cable, switches and sockets neatly stacked on shelves, three metal ladders and, unexpectedlly, two brand new kids’ bikes propped against a wall. Recent presents from Santa Claus perhaps, stored here by Daddy Dean until the weather improved.

  I was getting distracted, feeling my hopes of finding Galina fade. But then I heard a new noise – different to our hollow footsteps, Mikhail’s heavy breathing and the sound of wooden doors splintering. It was an urgent tapping sound, coming from another disused unit, right at the far end of the row. I ran through wet, slushy snow, heard the sound again – a frantic tapping, growing louder. ‘Mikhail, over here!’

  He slithered through the slush and came to a halt beside me, nodded once when he heard the tapping then immediately charged at the door.

  Raisa stood under the light in the stone archway, hands balled into fists, which she kept pressed against her mouth. I swear she’d stopped breathing as Mikhail made his final charge.

  The door shattered and fell inward. I smelt dampness and decay, waited for my eyes to grow used to the gloom.

  The workshop was a mess. There was a piece of heavy machinery stacked against the right-hand wall, its innards spilling out across the floor – springs, cogs, steel rods. Dirty rags, perished hoses, coils of rope hung from the wall opposite. I took it all in as I stepped inside. Then finally I made out the writing on the far wall. Big red letters, daubed and dribbling down the rough whitewashed surface, a wooden bench underneath.

  PLEASE HELP ME!

  And finally, finally, I turned round to see Galina extricate herself from the broken planks of wood that had once been the door. She hadn’t stepped back in time, had slipped as it splintered and toppled on to her. Her hands were tied, her mouth taped.

  I ran to her, gave her my hand to help her up, gently unpeeled the tape from her mouth.

  She gulped in air, sobbed, fell against me.

  Raisa rushed in, crying and wailing. Mikhail cut through the cable that tied Galina’s wrists with a knife he drew from his back pocket.

  ‘You’re safe,’ I whispered into her ear.

  Galina rested her head against my shoulder and sobbed like a five-year-old wrenched out of deep sleep by a terrible nightmare. Raisa took off her jacket and wrapped it round Galina’s shoulders. We led her slowly into the yard.

  ‘I think I am dying!’ she gasped. ‘In that filthy place. I am dead. No one will find me.’

  ‘No – you’re alive.’ I pushed her tangled hair back from her face. ‘Take deep breaths. No one’s going to hurt you now.’

  A fresh terror seized her and she reached out for Raisa. ‘He will come back – I know he will!’

  Raisa’s arms went round her. ‘No, lyublmaya mou, he will not.’ She hugged her as she always had, since she was a child small enough to sit on her lap. ‘I will not let him.’

  ‘Who’s “he”?’ I urged. ‘Who did this to you, Galina?’

  She hid her face against Raisa and shook her head.

  Answer me! I pleaded silently. End this misery. ‘Come on, tell us who he is. Don’t be afraid.’

  ‘I don’t know his name.’

  ‘But you must. You left school to come into the village and meet him. You said you’d tell me when you got back.’

  ‘But that was not him,’ Galina said through her tears.

  ‘Who was that then?’

  ‘That was Luke. He likes me but he is going out with Connie. He is scared she will find out. He will find a time to tell her later.

  ‘OK, I get that. Meanwhile you have to keep it a secret. So you go out to meet Luke but it’s not him who kidnapped you?’

  ‘No, I tell you this already!’

  ‘Hush, lyublmaya.’ Raisa squeezed her and rocked her from side to side.

  Wracked by sobs, still shaking, Galina allowed Raisa to lead her out of the yard on to Main Street.

  ‘If it wasn’t Luke, who was it?’ I wouldn’t let this go, even though Mikhail had taken out his phone to call the police, and events were moving rapidly on.

  ‘At first I think it’s Luke waiting for me in the trees behind the church. It is who I expect. I smile, I walk towards him. He is filming me, his hands hide his face. I smile again.’

  ‘Then?’ I prompted as Galina paused, frowned and shook her head.

  Then he lets one hand go away from face and he wears black scarf like this, covering face up to eyes. And he wears sunglasses at night time and grey hat over forehead. He takes something from his pocket, something you use to fix a car.’

  ‘A spanner?’

  ‘Yes. Still he films. And he puts the spanner up like this and I think he will hit me.’ Once more she broke down and hid her face at the memory.

  ‘OK,’ I said gently. ‘I understand.’

  I understood but I was devastated. There was no identification. Even when Ripley and her team arrived, there would be no way forward. They would slow things down with police procedures, going at snail’s pace with crisscrossing slimy trails that led nowhere.

  Meanwhile the psycho was still on the loose.

  Ripley! She wasn’t supposed to know I was here and when she found out I was she’d want to send me to Richmond as planned. Mikhail had finished his 999 conversation, and put the phone back in his pocket. I knew I only had a few minutes before the sirens blared down Main Street.

  ‘When the police get here, don’t mention me,’ I told Raisa hurriedly. ‘Please!’

  ‘But you save my Galina’
s life,’ she protested.

  ‘Leave me out of it for now. I have a reason.’

  She nodded, too taken up with comforting her darling girl to question me.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ I promised Galina. ‘Raisa will take care of you.’

  She looked up and for a moment gave me a glimpse of the old, unbroken Galina. ‘My father thinks he will take me from St Jude’s, but I don’t let him,’ she vowed. ‘I make much money with my bags, pay school fees!’

  ‘You betcha.’ I grinned, glad to see a flash of the old spirit. ‘You take care, Galina, and I’ll see you very soon.’

  I snuck off then, down the street and round the back of Five-a-Day, up the stairs to Ursula’s flat. I fumbled in my pocket for the key then I was in through the door, turning on the light, gasping in horror.

  Ursula’s room was wrecked. Her glass coffee table was shattered into lethal fragments, her TV flung against the radiator, DVDs everywhere. Cups and plates lay smashed on the kitchenette floor.

  And the message. It was scrawled in lipstick (red, of course) across the mirror in the tiny bedroom.

  CONGRATS, MY LOVELY ALYSSA! YOU FINALLY WORKED IT OUT. NOW THIS TURNS INTO A REAL CONTEST – YOU AND ME, RIGHT DOWN TO THE WIRE!

  chapter fourteen

  In a total panic I called Jack. A polite female voice told me he was unable to take my call. I left a voicemail message as requested.

  ‘Hey, Jack. Galina’s safe. Call me.’

  Then I did my best to pick up the pieces of glass scattered around Ursula’s floor, wrapped them in newspaper and decided to wait until morning until I took them down to the wheelie bin in the yard.

  I kept checking my phone – no message from Jack. Maybe the hospital told patients to switch off their phones after a certain time – I didn’t know.

  I closed Ursula’s blind, peeping through the slats to see that the snow had stopped falling and there was a clear night sky – half moon, millions of stars.

  At nine o’clock I had a phone call from Zara. ‘Well done, you!’ she told me. ‘You found her.’

  ‘Yeah. Is she OK?’

  ‘She’s at the Q.E. They’re dealing with some cuts and bruises – nothing serious, but they want to keep her in overnight. Raisa’s with her.’