Shiver Sweet

by H Elliston

  Nicola blinked as the man hunkered down to photograph her again, closer. Crouching, she tried to shield her face. “Stop it! What are you doing?”

  “That should be enough. A camera never lies.” After taking another photo, he pocketed the mobile.

  She spread her arms out to keep the men away, but her legs wobbled and she tumbled to her bottom. “What do you want from me?”

  The man who’d photographed her glanced up at the corner of the room, a place where Nicola recalled there to be a spy camera from when John showed her what was on the tablet’s screen. Nicola wondered if they’d turned it off. She hoped not. John’s murder could be live on the internet. Surely some sick voyeur would have a conscience and phone the police.

  “I wonder what the cops will make of you offing your friend’s husband for a cut of the life insurance, house and business?” he said.

  What? Nicola’s mouth gaped, too dazzled to respond while his words crackled in her head like static. These guy’s sure knew a lot about them, well, Christa at least.

  “Bloody knife in your hand. Photos. Hmmm... tricky.” He walked around John, studying his lifeless form, totally undisturbed by the sickening sight. Keeping his shoes out of the blood pool, he crouched down next to John within striking distance of Nicola. “I am not a forensic investigator, but I’d say it doesn’t look all that good for you right now.” An unmistakeable menace shone in his eyes. “I can offer you a way out.”

  Tears dripped as Nicola stared down at John’s blood smeared all over her hands. “The cops will wonder who took the photos and why I’ve been beaten up.”

  He laughed. “He fought you off, then you stabbed him and took photos as a trophy. Simple.”

  She shifted focus to John’s body. Scratch marks running down the side of his neck caught her eye, and her stomach clenched. Nicola would bet her life that these men had dragged her fingernails across John’s skin while she lay unconscious. Skin cells, sweat, tears, her DNA probably coated every inch of his dead body. “Hold on a minute. I-I couldn’t have taken the photos because I’m in them. The cops will wonder why...”

  “They’ll think you had an accomplice. Perhaps a boyfriend who regretted helping you and decided to dump you in it.”

  Nicola opened her mouth to speak, but the bulky man raised a palm to silence her. “I need you to be calm, and focus on what I’m about to say. Can you do that?”

  The blood pool, John’s guts, her torn stained clothes... It all made her brain slosh. Knowing these men had set her up cranked up her anger. Against her better judgement she blurted, “You bastards!”

  The man stepped forward and, after bunching what remained of her top in his fist, he pulled her up and jammed her against the wall. “You’ll thank me in a moment. It’s your lucky day,” he said, winking while running the back of his hand down her cheek.

  She turned her head away. “Don’t touch me!”

  “You’ve really coined it in for us lately. It seems you’ve not just caught the eye of, never mind, but you have several other fans too. Isn’t that right?” He glanced back at his companions.

  “Something like that,” one replied, eyeing her exposed chest. “Loved watching you in the tub the other night.”

  A vulgar grin stretched his lips. He released her top and stepped back. “I’ll keep this simple. You have three choices, Nicola. We can kill you now, you can get locked up for murder, or...”

  “Or what?” Nicola’s faint voice sounded fairly calm as she took everything in, but inside her head was a fuzzy-darkness. Call those choices!

  “Or make yourself useful. Save us breaking in every week.”

  “Every week?” she yelped.

  Murmured comments from the other men filled the room, but fear prevented their words sinking in.

  The man clapped his hands together near her face, demanding full attention. After motioning around, he pinned his sharp eyes onto hers. “All this mess, John, your fingerprints in the blood, on the knife... It can all disappear.” He paused. “It’s your choice. But you’re lucky you’re still breathing. I suggest you choose wisely. All you have to do is upload software to the computers that Christa gets in for repair, and keep us entertained on the website. And I mean fully entertained.”

  Nicola gulped.

  “But if you mess this up, we’ll be coming back for Christa, Sarah, and your families. They’ll pay a hefty price. It won’t just be you.”

  Nicola scowled, making her distaste crystal clear.

  He crossed his arms and widened his stance. “What’s it to be?”

  Nicola’s heart squeezed. If she played along until these guys left, then she could call the police. But then, apart from family, Christa and Sarah were the most important people in her orbit. Could she risk putting their lives at risk by lying to these men? They’d killed once; they could do it again. She closed her eyes and choked out the words, “Tell me what to do.”

  CHAPTER 12

  CHRISTA

  I helped Brian shovel snow to get Claire’s car out of the ditch while she sat in the warmth of the passenger seat on the phone. Once free, and half frozen, I jumped into the back seat. Brian turned the heat up and drove us in her car toward his house.

  Claire’s mobile beeped. She grimaced, looking at the screen, and then turned in the front seat to face me. “What’s the emergency? Why are you in such a rush to get to Sarah?”

  I chewed my lip. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but it’s private.”

  She frowned then folded her arms over her chest and turned away. “You two are always keeping me out of the loop.”

  Brian half smiled at her while steering around the corner. “I wish you two would get along. It’s not that Christa doesn’t trust you. We all have things we like to keep private.”

  Claire frowned, staring at him.

  “Take your brother, for instance,” Brian said, his voice just below a whisper, probably not intended for my ears. “You don’t want everyone knowing he did time in—.”

  “Shut up!” Claire snapped, giving him the eye.

  I gulped. “Jail?”

  Brian glanced at me through the rearview mirror. “Claire explained everything. Nothing violent.”

  “It had better not be if Sarah’s–“

  “If it was,” he interrupted. “I wouldn’t let him anywhere near Sarah. So, relax. He’s on the straight now. Doing up an old house across the woods at the back of yours.”

  Claire shot Brian a razor-sharp glare.

  He winced. “Sorry. But Christa won’t say anything. I’m happy he’s getting on in his life. People deserve second chances.”

  “And I wouldn’t gossip about her private stuff,” Claire fired back.

  Brian drove away from town into the countryside. I glanced out of my window at the beautiful whited-out landscape and spotted movement. “What the hell are they doing?”

  A car drove at high speed across a field, dragging two youngsters by a rope on a sledge.

  “Christ!” Brian said. “I’ve seen it all now.”

  “It’s the latest craze,” Claire said. “Car-sledding. I’ve heard some even do it on the roads.”

  “Don’t these people have brains?” I shook my head. “If Sarah ever did anything that stupid I’d...”

  “Listen, Claire,” Brian said softly, turning into his street. “It might be best if you don’t stay at my place tonight.”

  Oh, dear. I’m sure Claire won’t be happy about that.

  “What?” Claire yelped, then glanced at me, a flash of rage in her eyes. “We need to talk.”

  If looks could inflict pain...

  “We do, just not now,” Brian said.

  “Why?” she asked. “I thought we were getting takeout and finishing discussing you-know-what.”

  “Christa has some stuff to sort out with her ex. I think it would be best that you go home.” Brian slowed the car as he neared his house. He patted her thigh. “We’ll catch up tomorrow. Promise.”

  “Can’t I even
come in to eat with you?”

  “Best not.”

  “Nice to know where your priorities lie.” Claire mumbled. “What if I drive into a ditch again?”

  He gave a light chuckle, pulled up outside his house but left the engine running. “You only live round the corner. Christa can get out here, then I’ll drive you home and walk back.”

  I sat quietly in the back, disliking the awkwardness. Claire’s lashes fluttered over eyes craving Brian’s attention in the half-light. I pretended not to notice her fingers exploring his upper thigh area across the console.

  Has she no shame?

  “You don’t really want me to go, do you?” The words slipped off her tongue like warm honey, leaving no doubt as to what delights would be on the menu tonight.

  I felt a strange pang in my stomach.

  “Oh, come on, babe.” Brian smiled stiffly and peeled her hand off his privates. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  I cleared my throat and unbuckled my seatbelt. “I’ll... er... nip in to see if Sarah’s come back.” I opened the back door then paused, feeling the need to smooth over the cracks. “I’m sorry about all this, Claire. I didn’t mean to ruin your plans. I’ll get Sarah and go home.”

  Brian shook his head. “No, you won’t. I’m going to help you deal with your husband.”

  ”Typical.” Claire spat the words. “Are you always going to pay more attention to her and Sarah than to me? Is that what our life will be like?”

  “Please, Claire,” Brian said. “Let’s not discuss this here.”

  I thought it best to say nothing else and stepped out of the car.

  As I closed the door, I heard Claire speaking to Brian. “You’re obsessed with that caulbearer and her mother! What are you? Some sick vamp worshipper?”

  I froze on the path.

  “How dare you!” Brian snapped back. “This is the last straw.”

  How nasty. Vicious, narrow-minded woman. I balled my hands into fists, fighting the urge to open her door and throttle her for talking about my daughter that way.

  That term had not entered my head in years; I’d tried to erase that awful year from my memories by not allowing myself to think about it. For some reason, Brian must have told Claire about Sarah being born with a full mask covering her face at birth, like a membrane veil which looped around the ears. Extremely rare. I thought of Sarah as extra special for being born with a caul, a good omen, not something nasty and weird like Claire’s razor-edged voice portrayed.

  Who does she think she is? Why would Brian even mention that to her?

  They continued arguing in the car.

  My mind churned things over as I walked to his front door. Oh, my God! I gulped. I knew Brian really wanted kids at some point and... Were they discussing starting a family? And Sarah’s rare ‘caul’ birth had got slipped into the you-know-what conversation they needed to finish?

  Clearly, Claire felt sidelined tonight. But if she ever spouted such comments in front of Sarah, I would not let her near her again. But right now, I had to protect Sarah from John. I’d deal with Claire’s comment later, and this one, I wouldn’t let go.

  I dashed to the front door and pressed the buzzer. “Sarah, sweetheart, are you in?” I called through the letterbox. “It’s mum. I’m taking you home.”

  CHAPTER 13

  NICOLA

  Nicola sat on the cold floor with her sore wrists strapped together and roped to the hot radiator pipe. After carrying the man who’d been knocked out by the roof slate away, they returned for John.

  Shaking with fear, she watched in disgust as two men encased John’s body in cling film from scalp to toe. Yes, she’d been thrown a lifeline by some apparent fan, but if she said the wrong thing, no doubt she’d end up on the floor with John.

  The floor tiles, slippery with blood, gleamed under the kitchen lights only a metre from her feet as the third guy bent down to pick up the bloodied knife that had her fingerprints all over it. “Just in case.” He winked at her and then wrapped it in cling film with his hands that had sticking plasters around his fingertips, to prevent leaving prints she presumed.

  Two men hoisted John up and carried him to the patio doors as though disposing of old furniture. “We’ll get rid of him and also dump his car down a lane somewhere in the rough part of town,” the bulky man, who’d photographed her, and was holding John’s legs said to the man with a torn mask. “No doubt joyriders will take it for a spin, set it alight and throw the cops off the scent.”

  “No doubt,” echoed the man who wore spectacles beneath his mask.

  “Clean this place up while we’re gone. I’ve just received a text that they’re on the move. Thirty minutes, then everyone out, and then we’ll get... er...” He hesitated and glanced at Nicola. “Get him to turn the cameras back on so we can keep a close eye on this one.”

  Nicola gulped. Another guy? How many are involved in this?

  “And I’ve got a good feeling that...” He paused to wink at Nicola, his gaze sliding down to her chest. “She’s gonna keep us nicely entertained from now on, give our viewers their money’s worth.”

  Ugh! Nicola’s stomach lurched. She tried to turn, to shield her body from his dark and titillated eyes.

  The two men left through the back door, and the one who wore glasses stayed behind. Nicola had to sit and listen to the laboured scrape of metal on concrete as he shovelled snow, coloured red by blood from the other guy’s head wound, into a pile outside the patio door. After boiling the kettle, he melted the snow with hot water and swished it down the drain.

  “Where’s the mop?” he asked, stepping back inside.

  Nicola shrank away from his glare. She had no intention of helping him do a thorough job, although she willed him to hurry and ship out before Christa returned home. God knew what they’d do to her.

  “Fine.” After rummaging through cupboards, he returned with a mop and bucket in hand. He sloshed bleach over the floor and started mopping up John’s blood pool. Nicola’s mobile phone lay on the floor in pieces below the sink near the splattered birthday cake. He cleaned the mess up with paper towels and binned it.

  Sickness swirled in Nicola’s stomach as she watched John’s body fluids get squeezed into a bucket and then poured down the drain. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, heat flooding her to the core.

  He shot her a hard, venomous look through his glasses. “Don’t talk.”

  “Is the money really worth killing for?”

  “It was his own stupid fault. If he hadn’t tried to sneak into the house again tonight, he’d still be alive.”

  “So you knew what he was doing? You watched him on the cameras trying to scare us out of Christa’s home?” Nicola didn’t know why she said that. These scumbags were leagues above John and his petty crimes. Why would they care what he’d been up to? John’s mischief probably upped the ratings.

  “I’m not here for chitchat.” He waved her off. “Do what we ask, we’ll leave and no one else need get hurt.”

  “Hurt! My life is on the friggin’ internet!”

  He grabbed a dishcloth and bleached the worktop, wiped down chairs and door handles, despite the plasters that masked their fingerprints.

  The fast and efficient clean-up job suggested he’d done this before.

  “Remember, we have the knife with your bloody prints on it, and photos.”

  A scrap of a huff passed her lips.

  “Got something else to say?” His eyes were cold, his body language threatening.

  “If the police see those photos, they’ll wonder who took them and then they’ll probably discover the hidden cameras.”

  “They’ll not link them to us. We’ve got everything covered. Now either be quiet, or I’ll come over there and make you.”

  She gritted her teeth to lock her angry retorts inside. One guy had already pawed her breast in the utility room tonight, wherever he was. Dead she hoped. She had to stay clear of this pervert’s grasp, fearing he might take things a stage
further if she riled him up too much.

  He pointed to a corner in the kitchen. To a camera. “Don’t forget. We’ll be watching closely. Slip up and your friends will pay the price. And don’t forget, you’ll have a hard time convincing the cops you didn’t stab that guy to death. That’s if we decide to keep you alive.”

  Nicola gulped and gagged. The overpowering sharpness of bleach assaulted her nose. Breathe a word, and not only would she be fingered for John’s murder or killed, but these monsters would go after Christa and Sarah. She could not allow that to happen. There was no way she could signal Christa in the house when she returned either, or call the cops. These guys would be watching her movements like hawks through the hidden cameras. Perhaps even hear her.

  Secretly uploading webcam-activating software to the computers Christa gets in for repair was surely worth it to keep those she loved safe. What choice did she have?

  Perhaps she could write a note and slip it into Christa’s hand off camera, or...

  “Got anymore bleach?” the man asked, opening a cupboard and rummaging around.

  Nicola didn’t answer, but he found another bottle anyway.

  “You should thank your lucky stars you’re still alive.”

  “Huh! I think you should be thanking me for agreeing to—“

  He broke into a laugh. “Thanking you? Look love, our little money spinner would go on just fine without you. This house isn’t our only means of getting cameras into people’s homes. It’s just handy. Gives us a glimpse.” He paused. “Maybe it’s your tidy little body and bouncy tits.” He paused again and let his eyes roam over her.

  Nicola wished she could melt into the floor to hide.

  “Because if you were a bloke, I don’t think you’d still be breathing right now.” He laughed again, then bent down and scrubbed blood spatter off the skirting board. “Very dusty down here. I really think you need a stricter cleaning regime.”

  Nicola silently seethed. Somehow, Mr. Mop had manoeuvred her into feeling bloody thankful for them offering her a deal to stay alive. A deal with the devil, of course, but a deal that kept her breathing.