by H Elliston
“What?”
“John’s given me until tomorrow morning to agree to his terms.” I met Brian’s eyes. Between searching for Claire and crashing the car, it had slipped my mind. “I...I didn’t think he’d go through with it, but if I don’t sign the divorce papers... Put it this way, he’s threatened to nudge things along. To force me to sign.”
“How?”
“He’s going to tell Sarah about her real dad to get what he wants.”
“About Michael?”
I gulped. “Yes.”
This realisation put another huge spike in my already tested-to-the-limit calm. I should never have aired my secrets to John, but then that's what married couples do - trust each other. I kicked some snow then faced Brian again.
His mouth gaped. He understood. "He’s her step-dad. Surely he wouldn’t be so cruel? And why tell her tonight?”
“I should have guessed he wasn’t bluffing. The bastard," I scoffed, staring at Brian’s stricken face. “He’s had enough. Can’t wait ‘til morning and wants to get things wrapped up... in his favour of course! Thank goodness Sarah’s not at home tonight.”
Brian stared blankly.
I thought I'd better enlighten him. "John’s hurt by the split and wants to punish me by taking the house and selling his half of my business. I can understand him lashing out at me, but not Sarah. He loves her, or so I thought. I hoped that staying in the house would help Sarah feel more safe and secure. This split is really affecting her.”
“He won’t say anything. It's just a threat."
"Yes, it is. He'll give me the chance to agree to his terms first. But if I don't..."
"John wouldn't sink that low, would he?”
“Like I said, he hinted about it last week. I hope I’m wrong, but he’s not been back to the house in ages, so it’s weird he turns up tonight just before the deadline, huh?”
“Well... yes. It is.”
“Oh, he’s definitely on my shit list now. We need to intercept him, or get to Sarah before he does.” The truth would sting the most mature of people, but it would devastate a thirteen-year-old girl to discover that on the evening I discovered I was pregnant, her dad Michael was so disturbed that he drank himself into oblivion and slipped off a train platform to his death. Sarah could never be allowed to know that news of her coming into this world was the cause of him going out.
Brian frowned. "Can't you phone John and talk him out of it?"
"He changed his number and withholds it when he phones."
"Why don't you call his parents and get it from them?"
Their precious son could do no wrong in their eyes. "I’ll try, but I suspect they’ll hang up on me.” I pulled out my mobile and dialed John’s parents. They answered straight away and although they would not give me his mobile number, they did agree to tell John I’d give him the house in the divorce if he kept his mouth shut. I saw no other way out. “It’s important you pass my message on straight away,” I said to his mum. “And he’s not to go anywhere near Sarah.”
Clearly irritated by hearing my voice, John’s mum agreed and hung up.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and heaved a sigh. John was playing hardball to wind me up, and it sure was working. What on earth had attracted me to a man capable of shattering my daughter's heart to make his feel better? If John was a computer, I'd rearrange his circuitry or upload a nasty little virus into him. "I'll have to give him the house. I can’t think of anything else to bribe him with."
"Sarah loves that house."
"I know." I did too. “And my business... oh.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this? I could have helped. I still can.”
“It’s my mess.”
"Try not to panic. We'll find a way out of this." He reached over and rubbed my back. Brian could be so caring and loyal at times, that I often wanted to ruffle his hair or hug him or... Brian would die before stabbing me in the back. Why couldn’t John be more like him? I turned to face him. I could not have asked for a better male friend, but right now, I could not raise a smile to show Brian how much I appreciated him.
Brian must have seen the anxiety on my face. “Well, I hate to say it, but I'm actually hoping that Sarah's sneaked out to meet her friends." He cupped my cheeks with both hands, brought his face close enough that his breath warmed my face, and gazed tenderly.
Crikey! Wild surprise froze me to the spot. Surely he isn’t about to... I gulped and blushed... Kiss me.
“You’re really worried. Do you really think John would do this?”
I nodded.
“Over my dead body,” he said, snapping into action. He moved away and stared up and down the lane. "The car’s a no go. It could take us an hour to walk down these winding roads or...”
“Or what?” I asked, the apprehension in his voice beating the awkward, intimate moment out of my mind.
He took a deep breath. “My climbing equipment is in the boot since I packed early for the trip.”
I gulped. “C-climbing? You're not being serious?”
“Just hear me out. The drop at the side of this road leads to Aire street, right? If we lower ourselves down, we’d reach the bottom in minutes and get to—”
“Abseil?” I gasped out.
He nodded, clasped my hand and pulled me across the road to where he peered over the edge. “We can climb over this crash barrier. I’ll tie a rope around that tree and lower us down the cliff.”
I shrank into my coat. “I can’t.”
“You won't fall. We’ll do it in tandem. Think of me as your private instructor.” He stepped in front of me, took both of my hands in his and stared into my eyes again. “It's the fastest way. We'll go get Claire, then use her car to drive to Sarah and stop John getting anywhere near her.”
I gazed over his shoulder to where the pretty tree-lined road gave way to a sheer face of frozen rock.
He squeezed my hand. "I know I promised no more stunts, but if you really think that’s what John’s planning to do then we can’t just sit here doing nothing. If we wait to flag a car down, we could be waiting for an hour up here. I haven’t seen one for a while."
While I stood here with my stomach in knots, Sarah was possibly moments away from hearing the news I'd shielded her from for thirteen years. Yes, I could have been wrong, but I couldn’t take the risk. I had to get to Sarah and keep her safe. I swallowed my fear. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Brian dashed back to the car. He pulled a bundle of neatly coiled ropes and other climbing equipment out of the boot. "We'll have to take everything. This is a rough part of town. With looters around, who knows if they’ll be anything left of the car when I come back for it."
"Want a hand?"
"I've got it." He slung the laptop bag over his shoulder, pocketed his mobile phone, and then carried his climbing equipment across the road.
After relieving myself of the urge to pee in the bushes, Brian strapped me into a harness. The horror I’d tried to push down, made me shake all over again as he led me to the edge of the cliff – my version of death row. “Oh, God.” As far as I was concerned, humans were born with feet for a reason – to stand on solid ground.
After securing a rope around a chunky tree, he threw the other end over the side and watched it uncoil while plummeting into the darkness.
He clipped the rope to my harness and helped me over the barrier. "Don't go anywhere," he said in a jovial tone that was probably adopted to ease my nerves.
Once at the cliff side of the safety barrier, I gripped the metal post for dear life, my hands shaking, my body buzzing. I couldn’t look down. I kept my eyes on Brian's crumpled car across the lane which looked like it had a tree growing out of the back seat. Boy, if luck hadn’t been on our side during the crash...
Brian hooked a flashlight on his belt and climbed over to my right side. He clipped the rope to his harness and tugged, ensuring we were both secure. “Okay," he said while pressed shoulder to shoulder against me. “I’ll do all the
work. All you have to do is lean back, let the rope take your weight and walk down the slope with me.”
Hugging the safety barrier, I plastered a smile on my face. “Great.”
Brian indicated my harness strap. “Grip this.”
Every muscle in my body stiffened in protest. “It’s so bloody high.”
“It's not. You'll be fine. Go on. Let go.”
I took a deep breath, and then, one gloved hand at a time, I let go of the crash barrier and squeezed the safety strap.
“Ready?”
“Nope.”
Gripping the long rope, he raised his right arm. The rope suspending us slackened, and we began descending. Step by step, he lowered us several feet until the road at the top was just a peek above eye level.
“Try to relax. You’re doing great,” he said, soothingly, touching the rope in his hand to his bum, bringing us to a stop. “You make it look really easy.”
“Sure I do.” I wanted to laugh at his blatant lie but feared I'd lose hold of the strap. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I’m not really here. I’m somewhere else, not dangling off a cliff in the dark, tensing muscles I didn’t even know I had.
Brian raised the rope again and the descent continued. Slowly, we walked backwards down the face. My boots slipped on jutting rocks as I felt my way down.
“It works better if you lean back more,” he said.
With legs as weak as melting plastic, I forced myself to do as he said until I was practically horizontal. Yikes. Please don’t let the rope break.
“Eyes forward. Let me worry about looking down.”
I moved my foot a step lower, then slipped on a lump of iced rock. My stomach went airborne with panic as I spun away from Brian. “Oh shit.” I banged my shoulder and then scraped my cheek against the frozen rock face. I yelled out.
“Christa, stay calm.”
Something loosened underfoot as I flapped around, kicking my feet, desperate to find a foothold. Loose debris tumbled down, and I lost my nerve. “Oh, crap. I can’t do this.” My stomach rolled. I tightened my aching fingers around the strap while practically kissing the rock face.
Brian pulled me closer to steady me. “Take a breather. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”
I rested my head against his chest while snatching breaths. I’ll kill John for this. My cheek stung and was probably bleeding.
Brian gently spun me around to face him. “You can do this.” He squeezed my waist. “Do it for Sarah. Now stop being a wimp and get your lazy ass down this cliff!”
“A wimp?” Whoa.
“There’s only three metres left.”
“Is that all?” I hadn’t dared look.
Despite his sharp words, the warm sensation of someone's strong arm holding me, gave me a moment of respite.
We began to descend again. Over a minute later, my boots touched solid ground. “Oh, thank goodness for that! But you lied. It was more than three metres. That confirms what I said earlier about men and measurements.”
Brian slid his arm along my shoulders and chuckled. “So sue me.”
I raised my head, glared up at the sheer-edged, dark cliff, then at Brian. “I cannot believe I did that.”
I stood up straight, and then Brian clapped his hand to mine in an enthusiastic high five. “But you did. I’ve got total respect for you!" He beamed. "Way to go, Christa! Now let's hurry and get Claire's car.”
CHAPTER 9
NICOLA
Nicola felt her throat tighten. “Why isn’t the phone working?”
“You’re mouth’s still bleeding.” John’s body language emanated no menace, but something brittle about his voice suggested he was not entirely innocent. Did he do this? Did he send in the heavies to force Christa to sign the papers? Nicola didn’t know what to believe.
She swiped her hand across her lips as tears spilled onto her cheeks. Tonight’s attack was all too much to digest.
John, a good four inches taller than Nicola, tapped his red trainers on the floor, then glanced around and picked up a tablet computer from the worktop. "Is this yours?"
Nicola’s suspicious eyes roamed John’s, then the computer. "No. It must be that guy’s."
“The guy on the patio?”
"Why did the phone die like that?" Nicola asked, still impossibly confused and gripping the knife for comfort. How would she phone for help now?
John shrugged, his eyes fixed on the screen of the tablet, his fingers tapping it.
Perhaps the weather knocked out the phone lines... or... A combination of fear and curiosity rumbled through her body while she did a speedy rethink. Claiming he was here to speak to Sarah could well be true, but it could also be a cover. “It’s... it’s strange that you turn up right after I’m attacked.”
“Attacked? I half thought you’d-“ Without warning, John gasped in horror at something on the screen. His protruded, now blazing eyes shot off to a corner of the kitchen. “Jesus bloody Christ!”
Nicola flinched. "What’s the matter? What did you see?"
"It's not what I can see, it's what others can see." He glanced up at another corner, waved a hand in the air.
A faint snap and rustle came from outside. They flinched and turned to the patio doors.
“Oh, shit,” John said. Veins pulsed on his forehead as he tapped the screen. “Two men are outside. Who are they, Nicola?”
A chilling panic fluttered in her chest. She bent and fumbled for the knife.
The crunch of feet on snow started in the back garden, grew louder and rapid.
“Find them,” a man bristled.
“Oh, Jesus! They’re wearing ski masks.” John shut the patio doors, locked them and tossed the keys. “Move it!” He grabbed Nicola's hand and dragged her away before she could clinch the knife. Her elbows banged and scraped against walls as he pulled her down the hall.
In this frantic race for her life, Christa's grand home left Nicola dizzy. The walls seemed to move in around her. Where should they hide?
The patio doors rattled.
“Over there," John whispered, rushing her past several doors. He stopped outside the office and fumbled with the keycode lock. "What did Christa change the entry code to?"
A silent but alarming bell rang inside Nicola’s head. “How do you know she changed it?”
“Just get us inside,” John rasped, and checked over his shoulder.
Nicola’s fingers shook as she entered the four-figure code on the mechanical keypad.
Once inside, John closed the door to lock it. The large room was fairly dark with only a small lamp throwing light onto Christa’s desk. John clicked it off. Apart from the glow of the computer, they stood in darkness.
Nicola tried to peek at the screen. “Why do you keep looking at that?”
“Hush a minute. I need to think.”
His thoughtful expression surely hid a cagey scheme. John had made Christa’s life hell recently over negotiating the divorce. But despite the cold fingers of doubt tightening around her, he seemed to be trying to help. And she didn’t have a choice but to listen to him unless she wanted to get collared by those men.
Feet shuffled in the kitchen.
“Damn. They must have house keys.” John’s nostrils flared as he breathed in heavily. "Coming in here was a bad idea. I’ve got a feeling they already know the entry code.”
“W-what?” Her thoughts whirled in panic.
“They know every inch of this place. This is insane. We should switch rooms."
“We don’t have time!” Her vision blurred with tears. “They’re already in the house.” If John was also a bad guy, she’d jumped from one devil’s clutch to another. “Oh, god, they’re gonna find us and kill us.”
“Shut up. Let me think. Grab anything we can use as a weapon.” John grabbed Nicola’s hand and led her quickly and quietly around the edges of the room. “How do I phone or email out on this thing?” he muttered. “What do I press?”
Nicola picked up an exten
sion lead thinking she could swing the hard end at her attacker’s head. She stayed close behind John, relieved that the carpet softened their steps, but petrified the men would blast through the door any second.
“So long as the lights are off, we should be okay.”
“Okay? I think we’ll need more than the dark to protect us.”
“I’ve got an idea. Follow me.” John slid along the right wall, tablet in hand as though using it as guidance. “Over there.” He pulled her to the full-length window seat on the far wall. He lifted the cushioned lid, emptied out some magazines from inside, then pointed down. “Get in.”
“In there?" she squeaked out. "This is your amazing plan?”
He cocked his head. “Got a better one?”
The front door was locked. Her keys were in the kitchen. No time to run upstairs. And if they tried to bust the painted-shut window, the men would hear exactly where they were. “Guess not.” Nicola climbed inside. She molded herself into what felt like a narrow curved coffin, on top of cables and books, silently cursing.
“Which way did they go?” a man’s voice rasped from the hall that she didn’t recognise.
“Check downstairs. I’ll search upstairs,” another replied, more muffled and Nicola strained to hear. “And you... Run... and check the feed. See if you can spot... This is a bloody mess and it needs sorting.”
Footsteps, centred in the hall, thumped away in three different directions.
"Scoot down." John climbed in after Nicola, tossed a magazine on top of the lid and pulled it closed. He lay squashed against her, thighs in a spooning position.
“Where’s your phone? Call the cops,” Nicola whispered.
“In my car, charging.”
“Nice one,” she muttered, irritated.
The office door rattled and a light clicked.
“Shush,” John whispered.
Hell. John is right about them knowing the code.
A set of footsteps tapped, barely audible, into the room and began walking the perimeter.
Nicola tensed and held her breath. Whoever was hunting her down passed by the window seat because the curtain scraped on its pole above. Every muscle bunched. She lay beside John in the soft glow of the tablet, shaking and twitching with every footstep. Her shoulder jutted up against the metal pins of a wall plug. John's chest heaved against the small of her back.