Third Time Lucky (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Rosemary J. Anderson

  She stared hard at the window. Was there someone inside? Her breath caught remembering the story Mason had told her about an old ranger that had died of pneumonia in the 1800s when caught in a blizzard that lasted for weeks. Was the place haunted?

  Backing slowly out of the clearing, she fled as if all the hounds of hell were after her, Sumo close to her heels.

  * * * *

  It was dark when Holly arrived home, cold, tired, and despondent, although she had to laugh at the wildness of her imagination. Hansel and Gretel cottages and ghosts and ghouls, she definitely needed something, or a certain someone, to come home and occupy her mind.

  Eating a little of her dinner and without a thought for her waistline comfort ate all of the thick, creamy pudding. She then retired to her room. There had still been no word from Mason.

  Lying back against the pillows, Holly wrestled with her thoughts. She had to try and stay positive, ignore the dread that was dragging her down, and think good things, thoughts of Mason’s return and of Christmas.

  Suddenly feeling resolute, she pulled her laptop toward her. She would look online for Christmas ideas and surprise Mason when he returned.

  Spending a happy hour engrossed online in Christmas trimmings, presents, and festive food, Holly felt her spirits lift slightly. It was going to be all right. Mason would soon be home, it would be Christmas, and he would be leaving the forces for good, and then all would be right with the world. Idly clicking on her mail page, she gave a small start of surprise as the computerised voice indicated.

  “You have one new message!”

  Her heart stopping in her chest, Holly exhaled in a painful whoosh.

  Her fingers trembled as they rested on the mouse. Should she or shouldn’t she open the message?

  Her thoughts crowded in. It might not be Alex. Maybe it was just someone else she had spoken to on the friendship site. But what if it was Alex? But even if it was, it might not be anything horrible. He could just be saying hello or good-bye now he knew he wasn’t going to get anymore money. Or…

  Her heart leapt in happiness. Maybe it was Mason! She knew he couldn’t phone, but maybe he could e-mail? Of course that was it. Why hadn’t she thought of going online before instead of torturing herself?

  Smiling in relief and not thinking sensibly she quickly moved the mouse and clicked to open the message.

  Hello, my dear.

  Holly’s heart momentarily stopped.

  Did you really think I would go away? You are a disobedient woman and need to be taught a lesson and so, as you haven’t written to me and have not sent the money I have asked you for, you will need to be punished.

  I know where you live, did you think I didn’t? And I know you are alone with no one to protect you. But let me assure you I am here nearby, watching and waiting for my moment. To kill you!

  And I will relish your last moments as fear fills your soul and the light of life fades from your eyes.

  So until that moment, my dear.

  Remember, I will be seeing you.

  Alex

  Cold and clammy chills rippled Holly’s skin and as she looked at her hands she could see they were trembling. Her heart was thumping heavily in her chest creating a feeling of suffocation but still, she felt calm. “The calm before the storm,” she murmured before the tears came, filling her eyes and running down her cold cheeks.

  “What am I to do?” she cried to the empty room before putting her head on her folded arms and sobbing as if her heart would break.

  Minutes passed and still she sobbed until suddenly she checked the tears.

  “Come on, Holly, pull yourself together. All this crying is not helping. You have to think what to do!” She blew her nose and wiped her eyes, she should call the police, but that would mean explanations as to why she behaved so foolishly in the first place and she just couldn’t handle the recriminations, so now what? She took a deep breath hoping to clear her mind enough to figure out what to do. “First stay calm and check the date of the e-mail.” Grabbing the mouse, she hurriedly sought the date, hoping the e-mail was old as that could mean it was just an empty threat. But no…

  Maybe it wasn’t just an empty threat made to frighten after all. The message was only two days old and Alex had said he knew where she lived and he also appeared to know she was alone, so could that mean he was out there, somewhere, watching and waiting, ready to make his move? Then a terrifying thought struck her. Oh God! He could even be in the house now. Fearfully she looked around as if expecting him to jump out of the wardrobe.

  “I’ve got to get out of here, go somewhere he won’t be able to find me.”

  Scrambling off the bed she randomly began pulling clothes off their hangers. Jeans, tops, jackets, shoes, the odd handbag or two.

  “What am I thinking? I can’t take loads of luggage with me. It would slow me down.” Pacing the room she bit her lip. “Think, think what to do?”

  Pulling on underwear, jeans, and a thick jumper, she pushed her feet into fluffy socks and short boots and then pulled an outsize handbag out from the back of the cupboard. “I’ll just take enough for a few days and buy anything else I need.” Shoving panties, bras, socks, and a few tops into the bottom of the bag, she gathered up basic toiletries and threw them on the top. “Now what?” She looked helplessly around. “Money. Of course you need money, you fool.” Picking up her purse she checked the contents and pushed it into the side pocket, then without really thinking she quickly wrote a short but difficult note to Mason, explaining about Alex and telling him for his own safety not to come looking for her.

  Running down to the study, Holly left the note on Mason’s big oak desk, but unable to resist she sat in his chair and gazed at the photo on the desk. “A happy family,” she murmured, picking it up. It was a photograph taken by William the gardener on her first day at Saviour. A picture of Mason, his hair ruffled in the slight breeze that had been blowing, his arm flung carelessly around her shoulders, hugging her to him as she gazed up adoringly at him with Sumo sitting happily at their feet. “A happy, happy day.” Drawing a deep shuddering breath, she quickly pushed the photo into her bag, then without giving herself more time to think or change her mind hurriedly left the room. Entering the kitchen she picked up a shopping bag and began filling it with provisions, apples, bread, cheese, a few cooked sausages from the fridge, a couple of bottles of water, and a flask with hot coffee before adding matches and a torch to the contents. Then, just before leaving the room her eyes spotted a wooden block of carving knives. Slowly she drew a large, deadly looking knife from the block and, wrapping it in some kitchen roll, pushed it into the bag. “Just in case,” she murmured.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Switching off the alarm on the doors, Holly silently left the house, Sumo padding softly at her heels. Standing at the top of the steps she looked around. It was dark, but a misty moon was shining down, making the driveway appear like a silvery river.

  Glancing at her watch she bit her lip. If she was quick she would be able to reach the road just in time for the last bus. Once she reached town she could get a train to Paddington Station in London and there she could disappear, maybe get a job as a waitress and a small bedsit. She caught back a sob. Just when she thought things were going to be all right and that she was going to have a happy ever after, this happened. Instead of a lovely home in the country and a handsome husband she was now reverting back to being alone with no hope for the future.

  Reaching the bottom of the steps, she turned back to glance at the house. She hesitated. It represented security, happiness, and love. She bit her lip. Maybe she was doing the wrong thing, and maybe she was just jumping to conclusions. About to go back in, she glanced in the direction of the road and stopped dead. Was that a car parked just outside the open gates? She squinted attempting to see more clearly. It was! A dark car half-hidden by the tress. Oh God! What if it was Alex?

  Too frightened to think clearly she quickly backed up and turned in the other directi
on—away from the house.

  Exiting the garden through the small hidden gate, she began to cross the field, her hand tightening around Sumo’s lead. She shivered as an owl hooted, the cry sounding forlornly melancholy. Low-hanging clouds momentarily obscured the moon’s soft glow, sending everything plunging into darkness. Holly gave a small cry. She was more frightened than she had ever been in her life before. Frightened of Alex, of the dark, of leaving Mason and the security he offered, but most of all frightened of what the future might hold. Leaving was a big step. Being alone again with nowhere to go took a huge amount of guts, courage she didn’t really have. Maybe she should go back and wait for Mason. He would know what to do, but then she had no idea when Mason would be returning and by then it might be too late.

  It’s not too late to change your mind, a little voice inside her said. You could go back home.

  But no, Alex was waiting at the gate and at least by leaving she was preempting any action he was intending to take and most of all, by leaving she wasn’t putting anyone else in danger.

  Trudging through the fields, Holly stayed focused on getting away. If she allowed her thoughts to roam she would be besieged by doubts and consumed by terror. Thankfully the moon showed its face again and although shadows danced around her like demented demons at least she had a little light. Looking back toward the house, and although now barely visible in the distance, the lights from the windows made her feel not quite so alone. Wanting desperately to turn on her torch, she resisted the urge. In the darkness a light would be seen for miles around and if Alex was there sitting in his car the light would immediately attract his attention, and then he would know. Know which way she had gone.

  * * * *

  Lieutenant-Colonel Mason Black rubbed a hand tiredly over his face. His last tour of duty was over and in a day he would be back home with his wife. His wife—he liked the sound of that, but what he liked more, was her sweet smile that lighted up her eyes, the tender whisper of her voice, and the softness of her body as she pressed it close to his. Leaving her had been difficult, especially so soon after their marriage, but he’d had no choice. When he had left he had waited for her to say she loved him, but although she seemed about to declare the love he knew she had for him she hadn’t been brave enough, but they had time and he could wait. However, now he could spend his time making her happy, giving her the life she deserved, and hopefully in time making up for all she had been through. She’d had a hard time losing Adam, losing her home, and then all that trouble with that scumbag Alex, if that really was his name. He grimaced. People like him were experts at grooming their victims and Holly being lonely, vulnerable, and grief-stricken was the ideal target. Flatter them, write them bloody poetry, sympathise, and make them feel wanted and attractive, and they would do anything, give anything just for the loneliness to end. But no more. Holly would never be lonely or frightened again—this he vowed.

  * * * *

  Holly trudged on, Sumo padding silently beside her. She was now some distance from the house and the road, and although not really certain of where she was going or how she was going to get there, she headed for the forest. Closing her mind to childhood terrors, tales of witches and goblins, trolls and ogres, frightening disturbing images that, whilst fictional at that moment in time, took on terrifying proportions. Entering the dark gothic world of the forest, she shivered from the cold, the fear that was eating away at her or just the unknown she had no idea. The trees were old and gnarled, their branches like arms, their twigs like fingers plucking at her clothes and hair. It was so very dark, the density of the trees blocking out the weak autumn moon. The air was oppressive, the smell of decaying leaves quivering at her nostrils. The hour was late and a biting wind was beginning to gather. Her first priority was finding someplace to spend the night, maybe a hollowed-out tree trunk, or a thick hunk of bracken. Ravishing her bottom lip with small, even white teeth she frowned then brightened considerably when she remembered the disused ranger’s hut, although this elation was quickly followed by a certain amount of trepidation. However, she took a deep sustaining breath. At least it was shelter and most importantly, somewhere to hide.

  * * * *

  Jules De Verne’s hands tightened on the steering wheel and his face set into cruel lines as, staring at the house, he saw the lights over the garage were extinguished. He stared out into the darkness, the shadowy outline of the house against the dark backdrop of hills and trees angered him. The deceiving bitch Holly denied him money, yet she lived in the lap of luxury. Bitterness fuelled his anger, churning up in him a rage of monumental proportions. He’d spent time and energy grooming the woman to fall in love with him, and yet she had denied him. He ground his teeth, his face twisting in fury. She’d had the audacity to disobey him, refuse him money, and ignore him. Angrily he thumped the steering wheel with clenched fists, the ring on his forefinger digging painfully into his flesh, enraging him even more. His sources had been efficient in their investigation reporting her as married to some rich guy and that incensed him more. She had promised to marry him, and yet she had deceived him and married some weak-willed man for his money, the greedy, cunning wretch. Now festooned with riches she still denied him. She had no loyalty, no fidelity, and no commitment and he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. She should be made to pay and pay dearly for her defiance. The way this woman had got under his skin incensed him. He used his victims and when he had bled them dry he was the one that walked away, but this time he had been betrayed and it was not an emotion that sat easily with him. He wanted to hurt Holly. He clenched his teeth, making them ache with the force of his emotions. He wanted to hurt her bad.

  * * * *

  Holly, her mouth drying in fear, walked deeper into the wood hoping she was going in the right direction. Gone was the gothic gnarled oaks, here there were Scots pines and horse chestnuts towering up to the sky like sentinels, their branches interlocking, providing a shelter for the creatures that inhabited the wood. It was quiet, yet if she listened carefully there was noise. The rustling of the undergrowth, the hooting of a lone owl hunting its hapless prey, the small snuffling sounds of badgers searching for food, but no, she stopped and listened carefully. No sounds of human feet scrunching the dry leaves underfoot. Breathing a sigh of relief she carried on walking, her gaze nervously darting from side to side, scared of the dark, or rather scared of what lurked unseen in the dark. She reached out and touched Sumo’s soft fur, needing reassurance.

  Entering the small clearing lighted with the moon’s silvery rays, the sight of the dilapidated hut filled her with a mixture of relief and trepidation. Relief because she had somewhere to hide, and trepidation because the place looked worse than she’d remembered. She hadn’t noticed before, but where once there had been a stone chimney pot was now just a hole in the roof and the window, besides being cracked, had a frame that was rotting and listing down. And as she reached the door she drew back in horror as an enormous spider scuttled down its rather large web at the slight touch of her fingers. Ducking below the complex web she reached out and turned the handle. The door opened and, giving it a quick shove, it swung wide, creaking eerily in the night. God, it was like she was acting a scene from a horror film, the kind where the audience screamed, “Don’t go in,” at the television.

  It was dark inside the hut, darker than the clearing, which was still bathed in the glow of the moon. Fumbling in her bag, she extracted the torch and clicked it on. The light flickered and died, and she banged the torch against the doorframe. The light returned albeit a trifle pitifully. She wished she’d checked the batteries.

  The room was small and freezing cold and as she exhaled a small puff of cold mist floated like a cloud before her. A stone fireplace with a fire already conveniently laid was a sight for sore eyes, although cobwebs covered the sticks. On a hook beside the fireplace was a large metal pot looking rather like a witch’s cauldron and along one wall was a crooked, roughly hewn counter holding an old plastic bowl, a few mi
smatched and cracked pieces of crockery stacked haphazardly against the wall, and an old hurricane lamp. It was to this Holly hurried over. Lifting the lamp, she gave it a little shake, smiling thankfully at the unmistakeable sound of liquid. At least there was some oil. Placing her bag on the counter, she rummaged in it for the matches and after a few attempts managed to light the wick. The lamp glowed warmly, sending a soft light flickering across the ceiling, and insects running into the four corners of the small room. She shivered at the sound of their scurrying little feet, or as Mason would correct her, tarsus. Holly looked curiously around. A table, one leg broken and listing to one side, was situated in the centre of the room with a rickety chair beside it. Old newspapers were stacked against the wall yellowing with age and a pile of hessian sacks were piled near the fireplace. Otherwise, the room was bare although covered in a fine layer of dust. Holly drew a deep breath. As for the ghost of the old ranger, well, she just hoped he was friendly.