by H Elliston
I covered the mouthpiece to whisper to Nicola. “Nic! Be careful.” I turned my attention back to the phone. “We’re being held hostage. Four or five men. They killed my husband and...” A light thud came from inside the wardrobe and something rattled. My pulse quickened.
“What should I do?” Nicola asked.
I got to my feet, still talking on the phone, and tried to push the desk up to the wardrobe. Something stopped it moving. “Yes... yes. Willow Lane. We’re in a bedroom. Hurry.” I hung up, grabbed a heavy book and steeled myself for attack.
Nicola, wielding the tennis racket high, fumbled with the nob and yanked the wardrobe door open. “Jeez.” She jumped back and pressed a hand to her chest.
My eyes flew wide open as my daughter stepped out of the wardrobe. “S... Sarah?” Oh, crap.
“Mum?” She frowned. “What are you doing in my room? What’s all the noise downstairs?”
I ran over and enfolded her in my arms.
The stairs creaked. “No! Don’t do it,” a man yelled. “If we get caught...” Grunts, thumps and scuffling noises indicated a fight had broken out.
Sarah flinched in my arms.
“Oh hell.” Nicola raised the racket and faced the door. “We have to hurry.”
A volley of footsteps pounded up the stairs.
I gripped Sarah’s shoulders and looked at her. “Keep your voice down. There are some bad men in the house and we have to leave.”
She gaped at me. Horror entered her eyes.
I nodded to the wardrobe. “How did you get in?”
Her voice wavered. “Th-the...”
I shook her. “Tell me. Now.”
“L-loft hatch. John boarded it out so I could...”
Of course! “Excellent.” I shooed her into the wardrobe. There was a chair beneath an open hatch in the ceiling. “And then?”
“The skylight,” she said, clutching my arm. Her eyes pooled, threatening to spill over. “There’s trellis and... roof on-“
“The utility room,” I finished for her. I kissed her head. “Step up.” I helped her onto the chair and raised her up to the hatch. “Nicola,” I beckoned. “Come on. You’re next.”
She turned from staring at the door, dropped the racket and ran to me. As I pushed her bottom and kicking legs up to the hatch, the bedroom door rattled. I gasped. Oh, no. I stepped onto the chair, locked my arms and shoved Nicola harder until she was through.
The door thumped against the chest of drawers and then a man behind it yelled, “Stop. This is insane.”
I heard a metallic-sounding click.
Holy fuck. A gun?
I lost balance. The chair wobbled. I slipped and fell off, twisting over on my foot. Pain zipped through my ankle.
“You’re going too far. You’re drunk.” This was scab-man, I recognised his voice. Is he finally speaking up for us? “Killing wasn’t the deal. Not again.”
“Grow some balls,” Dale said.
“I’ve got balls.”
“Then get bigger ones.”
“Screw this” another man said. “We’re outta here.”
“Piss off then.“
Several sets of feet thundered down the stairs, twice as loud in our silence.
Have they gone? I tensed on the floor, laying on my front, half in and half out of the wardrobe.
Faint shuffling on the landing, the creak of wood and... I raised my head to look at the door. Oh shit.
With a monstrous thud, the chest of drawers crashed onto its side. The door rammed it repeatedly, forcing the chest across the carpet. The barrel of a gun poked through a gap in the door, followed by a hand with plasters around the fingertips, an arm, then head and shoulders.
Blazing eyes found mine. The gun swung my way.
I rolled forward into the room and took cover behind the bedroom door. My heart threatened to pound out of my chest.
“Christa!” Nicola said. “Come on. Give me your hand.”
I panted. “Go!”
“Not without-”
A gunshot rang out, blasting a hole in the wall left of the wardrobe. A picture frame shattered. Debris rained down.
Nicola screamed.
I covered my ringing ears and pulled my knees up to my chest, shuddering.
“Go!” I yelled.
“Let me in,” Dale said. “Or shall I go and grab that daughter of yours from the bridge by the canal?”
Hell, what? My heart practically stopped. He must have read her text on my mobile that I’d left downstairs. Thank goodness she’d come back, but she was still in danger. I’d rather die than let him anywhere near my daughter.
I had to make a move. Quick. I glanced around, saw broken glass from the picture frame on the carpet and grabbed two nasty looking shards. I took a deep breath of courage, and threw myself at the door, crushing Dale’s arm in the gap.
He yelled.
With a shaking hand, I sliced his inner wrist with the glass, opening up a long nasty gash. Blood spurted. He yelled louder. I flinched and wobbled on my ankle, losing pressure on the door. My hands were bleeding and shook so much I dropped the glass.
His arm disappeared back through the gap.
I slammed the door shut, flicked off the light and hopped back behind the door, heaving.
“Brian!” a female screeched from below.
Brian? W-wait. Was that... Claire?
“Where are you?” her high-pitched call echoed up the stairs.
Holy shit. My brain fogged. Why would...? “Get out, Claire! He’s a got a gun.”
Lighter footsteps charged upstairs.
“Claire!” I called again.
The top steps creaked. “Dale, you idiot!”
Wait... what? A cold shock gripped my heart. She knows him?
“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked.
“Where’s Brian? You better not have-”
He snorted. “You stupid cow. She knows who you are now. What if she...”
“You’re bleeding. Look at your hand.”
I heard voices, a commotion in the back garden through the window. Is that Nicola? The police? Please, please.
Muscle-seizing fear pinned my bottom to the floor. Did I have the strength to push the chest back against the door? Would I make it to the wardrobe on my ankle? I had to try. Knees trembling, I pushed up, took a deep lungful of air and limped across the room. Barely a metre before making the wardrobe, the bedroom door flung open and crashed against the chest. A switch clicked, lighting me up from above.
“Don’t move.”
I shut my eyes tight and froze. A hellish shiver skipped across my shoulders. He had a gun on me, I knew it. Swearing in terror, I limped around to face him.
Dale staggered in; one hand pointed a gun at me, the other was bloody and pressed to his chest.
Claire burst in behind him. All boobs and legs, heavy perfume and booze, a frenzied panic filled her black-rimmed eyes. “Wait.” She clasped his forearm and forced him to lower the gun.
I let out a long breath.
“Claire!” Dale said. “What are you doing?”
She stood hand on hip and scanned the room. Her predatory eyes stopped on me. “Where is he?”
CHAPTER 31
CHRISTA
“Claire, please,” I pleaded, inching backwards. “Don’t do this.”
She barged in front of Dale, further into the room, only the upturned chest of drawers was between us.
I bent forward to think and catch lost breath. “Brian’s all yours.” Is that what she wanted to hear? “You don’t have to kill me. I won’t go near him ever again, and I won’t say anything to anyone about this.”
Dale huffed. “Sure.”
I inclined my head toward the phone point. My dry throat swelled and clogged. “The c-cops are on their way. I called them,” I choked out. “Leave!”
Dale rubbed his temple with the gun and stumbled sideways. He’d lost a lot of blood and could barely move his right arm. Blood pooled on the carp
et. “Crap.” He shook his head then blinked rapidly at me. “You’ve ruined my sister’s life and fucked up my arm.” He raised the gun again.
Oh no... oh no.
My pulse pounded in my ears. My life was in the clutches of a drunken psycopath and his delirious jealous sister. What would stop them shooting me right now? What could I... I swallowed hard. “Brian,” I whispered and glanced at the window. That’s what she wants, that’s what I have to make her believe.
Claire snapped her head that way. “He’s here? Where? Out the back?”
I challenged her hard, unblinking eyes, giving her my best ‘stuff you’ grin. “Toss the gun downstairs and I’ll call him in.”
Her expression creased. She snatched the gun from Dale and pointed it at my face. “Call him. Now.”
I froze. Oh, shit.
“Here,” said a voice behind me.
Whoa, what? My breath caught. I gaped over my shoulder.
Brian swung down out of the loft hatch and landed in the room.
Holy shit. It was him I heard through the window.
His eyes burned and his jaw clenched. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me behind him.
Claire stared at Brian, her eyes sharp, yet brimming with tears of love... or pain.
I clung to Brian’s back through his shirt.
“I’m here, Claire,” Brian said softly, stepping closer to her. “Give me the gun, let Christa go, and come to me.”
My heart chilled. Come to me? What’s he doing? “Don’t trust her. She’s in on it. Her brother killed John.”
Brian glared at me. “Shut up! I don’t love you, Christa. Claire knows I’ve been confused.”
I gasped. My trembling legs threatened to give out.
He faced her again. “Right, Claire?”
Dale grabbed Sarah’s cow-print pyjama bottoms off the floor. “Don’t listen to him.” Blood gushed from his wrist where the flesh had split. He wound the fabric around it and collapsed.
“Dale!” Claire bent to help him, then stopped and pointed the gun my way.
“You know why I came here, Claire.” Brian said, his voice low, composed. “To protect Sarah from-“ he nodded my way. “-her, and her sleazy ways.”
Me? Sleazy? Oh, heck. Did he mean my shower scene? How did he know about that?
Claire bit her lip.
Brian reached a hand out. Passion entered his voice. “You’re the one I want, Claire. Let Christa go, and I’ll get you and your brother out of here before the police come. He needs a doctor or he’ll die.”
Claire stared at Brian with unabashed intensity. The gun shook in her hand. “I just want you to love me, not her.” Her eyes, filled with loathing, raked me from head to toe.
“And I do love you.” Brian pulled a pair of panties out of his pocket, dangled them off his finger and beckoned her. “I kept them. See? I want you. I know that now, after... after being with you tonight. Let me help.”
No. Wait. This is lies... but... he’s been with her tonight?
Claire sneered wickedly at me, clearly enjoying my shock and discomfort.
“If Christa dies, we can’t be together,” Brian said. “She’s like a sibling to me. You know what that’s like, right? So to shoot her, you’ll have to shoot through me. Give me the gun.”
Silence, like ice, froze the room.
I glanced nervously over Brian’s shoulder at Dale half-cut and slumped on the floor, and at Claire waving the gun.
“Bullshit,” Dale said, his face screwing up with pain. “He doesn’t love you at all, Claire. He’s playing you. Shoot ‘em both and let’s get out of here.”
Brian opened his arms to her. “We have to move, she called the cops.”
Claire looked from Brian to Dale, weighing things up.
Brian nudged me and whispered, “Go.”
“W-hat?” I said.
“Go. Now. Go to Sarah.” He nudged me again then said to Claire, “Let’s go back to your place and finish what we started.”
Tears streamed down my cheeks. I didn’t want to leave Brian but... I backed up to the wardrobe.
Claire bit her bottom lip, took a step closer to Brian and lowered the gun.
Dale kicked her. “Rachel, snap out of it.”
“Rachel?” Brian choked out.
“Yeah,” Dale said. “That’s her real name.” He faced her again. “Brian doesn’t want you, and he’d want you even less if he knew the truth.” For a moment, his words deadened the room. Claire glared at him so hard it was obvious Dale had hit a nerve.
“Truth?” Brian said. “What truth? There’s more?”
He grunted then raised his eyes to Brian. “You’re Sarah’s father.”
My breath rushed out in a cough.
Brian looked at me and froze. Shock broke across his face. Did we hear that right?
Claire’s hand flew out to silence Dale. “You idiot!”
Dale let out a light, sickening laugh. “Jeez! You people are so dumb.” A triumphant smile crossed Dale’s face before pain washed it out. He lay there, half lucid, bleeding into the carpet. “Brian definitely won’t want you now, sis.”
Brian snapped unfrozen. Grinding his jaw left to right, his gaze shot back to Claire. “W-wait... How? Why? Is this true?”
“Of course not,” I said against his shoulder. How can it be? I felt sick.
He glanced back at me. “You said it was impossible.”
I clawed his top. “It is. The dates... Steph... she’s a nurse. She said there was no way that...” Tears trickled and I bit my lip in thought. But why would Dale even think to make that up?
Claire waggled the gun at me, then looked down at Dale, the distortion in her face answered my question.
Oh, heck. My stomach dropped like a free-falling elevator.
“Steph manipulated you,” Dale said, glowering at me. “She lied, covered it up, and the slack cow doesn’t even know what she’s done.”
Claire looked at Brian and tilted her head to one side. “Babe, don’t listen to him.” She glared down at a pale and clammy-faced Dale. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because, dear sister, your head’s stuck in cuckoo land. Brian will never be yours. You won’t believe me, so I had to find a way for you to see it for yourself, in his face.” He scowled at Brian. “He’s a liability. He knows too much, shoot him now and help me out of here.”
Tears spilled down Claire’s face as her pained eyes sought Brian’s.
“I’ll take care of you, like I always do,” Dale said. “Shoot ‘em. Do it Claire. Do it now.”
“No,” she cried. “I-I can’t.”
Brian and I glanced at each other, trying to gauge if we could get the gun.
Just as I heard sirens in the distance, Claire and Dale launched into an animated argument, exchanged insults, and Claire dropped the gun.
This was our chance.
Just do it, Christa. I stepped out from behind Brian, steeled myself to dive for the gun, but... Dale rolled over and grabbed it. Death waved our way once again. I screamed and ducked. Claire knocked Dale’s arm. Air whooshed over my head and a bullet slammed into the wardrobe door above me.
Brian dropped to the floor and wrapped his arms over my head.
Claire snatched the gun and squirmed out of Dale’s leg hold. She kicked him in the stomach. His head hit the wall and he heaped into stillness on the blood-stained carpet.
Claire tripped and fell onto the bed.
“Trust me,” Brian said. He pulled me to my feet, put his palm on my chest and pushed.
I stumbled into the wardrobe, banging the back of my legs on the chair.
Swinging the gun blindly, Claire staggered off the bed and gulped air. “Brian? Brian?”
“I’m here, babe. I’m not going anywhere.” He turned to me. Brows bunched low over panicked eyes, he mouthed, ‘run’.
I reached a hand out. “Come with me.”
“Brian?” Claire’s voice was louder than a banshee. Eyes filled with tears and of
f balance, she aimed the gun my way. “If you’re messing with me, I’ll put a bullet in her head.”
Scared, I shrank back.
In a tone ripe with distaste, he said, “I’m not.”
Sarah. Her sweet face flashed into my mind, pulling on me. I stood the chair upright, stepped on it and raised myself up and through the loft hatch. Sobbing, I scrambled along the boarded floor with just enough moonlight to see my way. Brian didn’t follow. I climbed out of the skylight. Cold air hit me as I dropped to the flat snowy roof, landing on my weak ankle. I cried out. Clutching my foot, I looked up, waiting. Please, Brian, get out of there.
The sirens blared louder now, the police were here. Hurry.
A shot rang out through the dark night.
“Brian!”
CHAPTER 32
CHRISTA
FIVE DAYS LATER
Holding Sarah’s hand, I walked up to my front door. “Brian was lucky,” I said to my cousin, Brad, on the phone. “I heard he’s out of hospital.”
“You could say that. The bullet went through his arm, didn’t it?”
“Yes. A flesh wound, but it must have really hurt.” I unlocked the door and signalled Sarah to enter the house.
She bit her lip and looked up at me.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” I struggled to banish the horrid memories from my own head, let alone hers. “Nicola’s inside with Dave.” I squeezed her hand. “Let’s go in and say hello.”
She found a smile and entered the hall.
Seeing the way my daughter handled everything made me a very proud mum.
As I walked over the threshold, I shuddered but tried to hide it. It had been days since the attack, but despite my nerves, I was more than delighted to escape my parents’ spare room and return home. All the cameras had been removed, the men were locked in a cell somewhere far away, and we’d come through this horror without losing any of the people we cared for. “Can I phone you back later?” I asked Brad. “Or better still, pop round for a drink, if you like.”
“Ummm... I’ll think about it. I’m kinda driving someone somewhere.”
“Then you shouldn’t be on the phone.”
“It’s hands free.”
“Okay. Speak soon.”