TICK TOCK RUN (Romantic Mystery Suspense)

by Elliston, H

  Claire’s screeching voice sliced at my ears from the other side of the door. “What’s going on? Paul! Get your hands off her, you hear me?”

  Fast footsteps pounded up the stairs.

  “Run!”

  “Get back here,” Paul yelled. “No one makes a fool out of me.”

  “What’s going on?” Jess yelped.

  “Claire run, run. Go!” Laura roared, her voice choked with panic.

  Jess screamed.

  But then, after a series of thumps, more shouting and the shattering of glass, all went silent.

  “Where the hell does she keep the key?” Jayne said from behind me. “Will someone let me out of this goddamned house?” She kicked and punched the back door.

  Screams came from the hall. I jumped back.

  The girls darted frantically around the kitchen. They kicked doors, crashed into each other, banged on the window shouting, “We have to get out.” The four of us, trapped in the kitchen, were loose ends. Paul, no doubt, wouldn’t want any.

  With a sickening riot in my stomach, I yanked on the door again. “Laura! Claire! Open this door!” The few metres between Laura in the hall, and me in the kitchen, seemed to be further than the moon.

  Emma ran to me. “I’ll help.” She placed her hands over mine on the door knob, and tugged with her foot pushing against the frame. It took all our strength but the door only wiggled and rattled.

  “It won’t budge!” she yelled. “He’s wedged it!”

  Thump. Thump. We kicked it.

  The screams weakened, ending in an eerie silence.

  “Smash the window,” Jayne hollered from behind. “Swing this.”

  I heard a clattering noise behind me like something bounced off glass. I turned and saw the window had spiderwebbed.

  I heard scraping noises then a single thud. I looked back at the hall door and saw the handle wiggle a fraction.

  “Who’s that?” I asked. “Laura? Jess?” If it was one of the girls they would have answered, screamed or something.

  Flinching as the door knob turned to the left, I stared down at my empty hands. I’d wasted time and didn’t have a weapon. I hurled myself at the door, rammed it shut with my weight and tried to stop the handle from turning any further. “Help me!”

  Emma pushed against the door with her shoulder.

  The door jerked. I felt the jolts and bounce of it pushing my body as it inched open and closed, repeatedly.

  “Open this door!” Paul commanded.

  “Press harder, Emma. Don’t let him in.” The more I pushed, the lower down the door I slid.

  The pressure suddenly stopped.

  I glanced at Emma. “What’s he up to?” Before I realised what was happening, he rammed against the door. Feeling like a truck had driven into me, the powerful jolt of the door flinging open sent both of us skidding across the tiles.

  Something like a stampede began punching from inside my chest as I regained balance. I looked ahead. The once bright, friendly eyes of Paul were missing their softness completely. And I was staring directly at the enraged face of a madman whose secret was out.

  CHAPTER 33

  A new track kicked in on the CD player, an uplifting tune in no way reflecting the sorry room.

  Paul stood tall, blocking the kitchen doorway. Hair in disarray. Mark’s beige leather gloves were on his hands. Red scratches ran from his right eye down his cheek. It was satisfying to see his own blood dripping down his face. He took on barbaric eyes, directed his menacing glare around the room, and stepped inside. There was something sinister about the way he moved. For a second, it paralysed me. A predator moving slowly so as not to alarm his prey.

  But I was alarmed. And one glimpse over his shoulder was all I needed. I gasped. A motionless female, with black hair, lay sprawled on the hall floor. Laura. “You bastard!”

  Paul kick-slammed the door shut, blocking the extent of destruction from my view.

  Charged with rage, I hurtled myself on Paul and pummelled his chest with my fists. “What have you done to Laura? What have you done?”

  Paul grabbed my shoulders, stared into my eyes and winked. “I’m saving you for last, Chelsea, sweetheart.”

  His brick of a fist slammed into my chest, pushing all the air out of my lungs. Winded, I looked up. “Throw something at him.”

  Emma ran to the other girls, grabbed a vase of flowers from the worktop and hurled it at Paul’s head. He ducked, kicked a stool and advanced towards them. The vase shattered on the kitchen island spraying water everywhere. Screams filled the room. Paul’s fists mowed through the line of my tipsy friends. They ducked, dodging his random blows, then tried to flee. He knocked Megan to the floor and she didn’t get back up. He kicked Jayne, then grabbed Emma by the hair. He slapped her face and shook her violently before throwing her against the kitchen cabinets.

  I threw a shoe at Paul, staggered to my feet and darted over to Megan. I grabbed her top by the shoulders, and tried to drag her away. Her eyes rolled up behind her eyelids. Her flimsy top tore in my hands and she slipped from my grasp, dropping face down on the tiles. Dead weight.

  “I’m sorry,” I cried, and left her.

  I barrelled to the hall door to get help. Just as I touched the handle with my fingertips, gloved hands clapped my shoulders and gripped tight. I screamed.

  “I’m not done with you.” Paul pulled me backwards and thrust me across the room. I slammed into a wall and slid down to the floor. Pain sliced through my right arm. Shaken, woozy, I had to get to my feet.

  “Help, help,” the girls yelled.

  Emma rose from the adjacent corner. Blood trickled out of her nose. Then Jayne rose. Her small frame shook and appeared unsteady.

  Paul faced the woozy girls.

  Shielded only by the granite island in the centre, Jayne and Emma stood squashing shoulders, forming a defensive line.

  Putting my fist to Paul’s rock body would have been as useless as knuckles punching concrete.

  I needed... a knife.

  I focused on the cutlery drawer and slid closer to it. Paul had his back to me, but my attempts at moving stealthily failed. He must have caught my reflection in the glossy cabinet doors.

  Fast and heavy footsteps came up behind me. “Oh, no you don’t!” Paul growled.

  Petrified, I dropped to the ground on my back as fast as if it had disappeared beneath me.

  Paul towered over me like a giant. His eyes were narrowed to slits, and flinty - the killer look I’d, at one time, tried to find in Lee.

  His large gloved hand swooped down toward my face. He hooked my chin and squashed my nose. Then, Emma kicked him in the face.

  “Ow! You little…” Paul snarled, and released me.

  I slid beneath Paul's legs.

  The cutlery drawer rattled.

  With my cheek squashed against Paul’s leg, I opened my mouth wide and sunk my teeth into the back of his knee.

  He yelled and freed my ankle. A ting sounded and I presumed he’d dropped a knife.

  I didn’t stick around to find out.

  I turned onto my knees and scrambled across the cold tiles while Emma threw mugs and apples at him. A bulb smashed and the room dimmed.

  “Leave her alone, you shithead!” she yelled, and chucked the CD player his way.

  Once near the door, I searched for something hard and heavy to hit him with before Emma ran out of cupboard items. A pan lid sliced the air and clattered on the floor sounding like a cymbal. I grabbed it and threw it at the back of Paul’s head. It bounced off his shoulders. Damn!

  Emma’s arms sliced the air like runaway rotor blades. Paul began ducking and diving, and then, put his fist into her face. She went down for the count.

  I grabbed a stool and charged. “Grrr....”

  The chrome legs rammed into Paul’s back. He twisted around, seized the stool and chucked it in an arc over the kitchen island. Then he picked up a knife and raised his head. One of his eyes was starting to swell from where Emma
had kicked him. But more noticeably, his expression was livid, his nostrils flared. His long stare indicated I was next, and a menacing twitch in his jaw told me he was going to enjoy it.

  Paul laughed. “There’s no escaping, Chelsea. You may as well give in and accept what’s coming to you. It’s no less than you deserve.”

  Shivers spiked down my spine.

  Paul stepped forward. Laura’s chopping knife glinted in his hand as he tapped his waist with it.

  I spotted an empty glass bottle, grabbed it by the throat and lifted it above my head.

  “You should have made Laura pay up again,” Paul said. “Instead of playing detective.”

  “Help. We need help in here!” I screamed as loud as I could. I waved the bottle and gave Paul a sharp stare. “Stay back. Don’t come any closer.”

  He laughed. “No one screws around on me.” Paul’s eyes narrowed to slits again. “But the person I’m most livid with… is you!”

  “Me?”

  “You’re the reason Laura met Daryl.”

  We paced a tight, cautious circle.

  “Her parents would still be alive if it wasn’t for you.” Hatred tightened the lines fanning from his eyes. “She’d never have needed a psychiatrist. She’d never have met Daryl. And we’d be getting married tomorrow and starting a family.”

  “Oh, my God! Is that was this is about? The car crash?”

  “Laura’s parents are dead because you date anything with a pulse. Hell! You probably even encouraged her to have the affair.”

  “I didn’t.” I glanced around the room for better weapons. Something more...

  “Laura’s so flaky I figured she’d do something stupid to herself once I jilted her. Save me the trouble. And it’s been such fun watching you both squirm. But you! I did have something extra special planned for you after the wedding. You’ve managed to ruin my entire life, and now you’ve ruined my plans for revenge.”

  I slinked left. Stall him. “How did you find out about the affair, Paul?”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  I frowned and tilted my head, hoping he’d feel the need to explain himself, giving me more time. “No. Tell me.”

  He shrugged. “What the hell. I phoned Emma from Laura’s mobile to arrange that spa day the other month.” His voice changed, sounding even more spiked with venom. “I didn’t expect to listen to some sleazy guy talking about dragging Laura’s panties down with his teeth.”

  I gasped.

  “And this.” He motioned around the room. “Mark will go down for all this. Serves him right for eyeing up my fiancée.”

  “You’re sick and twisted.” My throat was dry, the words were scratchy. “The police know everything. They’ll be here any second.”

  “Sure.” An evil smile parted Paul’s lips. He raised a hand to his ear and listened for the sound of sirens that clearly weren’t there. Taunting me, Paul thrust the knife my way in a quick-fire movement.

  I jumped back.

  He laughed. “Fun’s over. I’m bored now.” He glanced at his wrist watch. “This isn’t exactly how I’d planned it. Perhaps it’s even worked out better. Who’d have thought that you’d help me?”

  “Help you?”

  “Your blackmail attempt was genius! Now the police will think that you’ve blackmailed your friends, threatened yourself to cover your tracks, and Mark, well, they’ll assume he’s gone nuts over being blackmailed and attacked everyone.” He laughed. “Nice job. Anyway, I should have enough time to get to the hotel and rehearse my reaction. Play the grieving fiancé for the cops.”

  “You cruel bastard.”

  He took a step toward me.

  For any chance of surviving, I had to strike at the right moment. Use my brain. Aim for his...

  I gasped, seeing Jayne sprout from nowhere on the floor behind Paul, rising like a delayed shadow. I wanted to look unmoved, but I guess my reaction betrayed me. Paul spun around to confront her.

  Shit! Oh please, no.

  She staggered and swayed less than a metre behind him. Four stone lighter and a foot shorter in height.

  The blade glinted as he raised it toward her. I thought fast, recalled Laura telling me about Paul’s childhood. About what had, in all likelihood, brought him to this point. “Stop!” I roared. “Enough! We’re not the ones who made your childhood hell.”

  He turned his neck and glared at me with tight, blazing eyes.

  I continued. “You can get help. We’ll all help you. We’re your friends. The police will understand.” I was shocked by the lies spilling out of my mouth, but more surprised that Paul was actually watching me, listening to this nonsense. “It’s not too late to stop this. Things can be... undone.”

  Over Paul’s shoulder I watched Jayne lifting her arm, wielding a silver stiletto. Paul reacted fast. He pivoted around and kneed her hard in the stomach. It took her less than a second to fall to her knees, but she caught him with her shoe on the downturn, opening up a line of blood above his collarbone.

  I kicked him, then geared up to hit Paul over the head with the bottle, but he swiped the knife my way. I had to jump back. The bottle slipped out of my hand as I watched him turn, and then plunge the knife into Jayne’s belly. She collapsed on the floor, face up, hair fanned over the tiles.

  “You’ve done it now,” I said in a quiet yet hard-edged voice.

  Paul faced me and shrugged, showing he didn’t give a toss. “You and your friends are more entertaining than Daryl was,” he said, circling and clicking the bones in his neck. “Killing him was a bore. Over in a flash. But enough foreplay. Let’s finish this, bitch.”

  My heart vaulted up in my chest.

  We stood a metre apart and I stared into the stone-faced eyes of the man who was now going to stab me to death.

  Even if I had it within me, I realised there’d be no talking him down. I was terrified, yes. In deep shit. But stronger than anything, fury bubbled inside me like water in a kettle. One by one he’d picked off the important people in my life, made me watch and listen. No more!

  CHAPTER 34

  Paul’s hand jerked, the one holding the knife. Light flashed off the sharp blade.

  We ran at each other and I kneed his groin.

  He cursed and cupped himself.

  I turned to run but fell belly down.

  A strong, gloved hand shackled one of my ankles.

  “Nice try,” Paul said, laughing in a pained kind of way.

  The cold insane sound sent chills up my spine.

  He dragged me back to the middle of the kitchen by my foot.

  I clawed at the floor, but I couldn’t grip anything solid. My screams pierced the graveyard room while the dreaded picture of being stabbed over and over again as I lay here on the floor, blasted through my mind.

  Paul grabbed my waistband, yanked me to my feet then spun me around.

  The knife came closer. I panicked, threw my arms and feet around in a frenzy, trying to block the blow while screaming. The blade sliced my forearm. I continued fighting him off until the cut on my arm burned so fierce, I thought a firework had exploded inside it.

  Paul jammed me against the kitchen island. "There was never going to be a wedding," he said. “It was all for show. The finale.”

  I cracked one eye open. Movement over Paul’s shoulder caught my attention. I did a double-take.

  Carol, Laura’s aunt, was peering through the kitchen window. Her nose was squashed against the veined glass. She waved a garter in the air, but when our eyes locked, she let go of it. She stared, open-mouthed.

  I gasped, wanting to feel relieved that she would call the police. But I couldn’t be sure she wasn’t intoxicated. “I… er…” I tried to speak, so Paul wouldn’t notice I’d been staring out the window. When I looked again, Laura’s aunt had gone.

  Paul dropped his voice to a chilling whisper. “I’ll try to make it quick. But painless will be impossible.”

  He raised the knife to strike.

  I was minu
tes away from being rescued, yet seconds from death. Think of something. “Wait!” I croaked, close to suffocating in fright, staring at the sharp tip of metal pointing down at me. “I know where that twenty thousand is."

  Paul paused, blade suspended in mid-air.

  “It’s in here. In the house.” Why the hell can’t I hear any sirens? Panic blistered inside me. “I’m your way out of here, Paul. I can give you cash. You’ll need every freakin’ penny to go on the run.”

  Paul glanced at his watch, paused while twisting his lips, then looked at me. “Start talking. You’ve got one minute.” He grabbed my top. It tore when he pulled me away from the bench.

  “It’s…”

  “Fifty-five seconds.”

  I signalled towards the kitchen corner with my eyes. “It’s in that bag. Let me show you.”

  His breath was a hot brush against my cheek as he bunched my torn top in his fist, tugging me close to his face.

  I tried to say, “Over there,” but when his nose squashed into my cheek, and his breath blew on my face, the words got jammed in my throat.

  “In those bags, you say?” Suddenly, he grabbed my ponytail, yanked my head down low and leaned over to hiss in my ear. “You’d better not be lying. I don’t like liars.”

  That much I knew.

  I gritted my teeth against the eye-watering pull on my scalp. “I’m not. I’m not.” I prayed that Emma had something in her bags I could bash him with.

  Swinging me by my hair, he hurled me forward towards Emma’s bags in the corner.

  “Ouch!” I fell to my knees in front of Jayne, wheezing and spluttering.

  Every second that I didn’t hear sirens, more sweat broke out all over me, and I couldn’t prevent my body from shaking.

  He moved closer along the slick tiles, leering at me from above. “Get the cash! And don’t get smart. Try something, and your guts will meet the floor.”

  My mouth filled with warm sick as I dragged Emma’s numerous bags from under Jayne’s limp, bloodied body. My head was in an unstoppable spin, a collection of loose parts whizzing in circles while I flung Emma’s clothes around the room. Paul had gone way too far. He’d have to finish this. If I didn’t find a weapon...