by CJ Carver
‘Christ. C-christ. S-sorry.’ In his haste he was stammering in fear, and she suddenly realised who it was.
‘Christopher?’
‘Y-yes. Jesus, Lucy. Everyone’s been going crazy looking for you. Are y-you all right?’
‘Just get me out of here!’
‘OK, OK. But I have to leave you to find—’
‘Give me your phone,’ she said. ‘Please, don’t leave me here without your phone.’
‘Yes, yes. Good idea. Hang on . . . Here it is . . .’
She stepped back as his phone fell towards her. She caught it. Moved to the middle of the well and held the phone to the sky, praying she’d get a signal.
The screen lit up, demanding a code.
‘Your code!’ she yelled.
‘Treble three, nine six one.’
When the screen lit up into a blissful welcome page, she could have wept in relief.
‘I’ll get a ladder, OK?’ he told her. ‘I’m sure there’s one in the barn, or something anyway. Hang on, Lucy. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
Lucy would have called Mac immediately, except she didn’t know his mobile number off by heart. She could recite her childhood landline off without a problem, but the instant mobiles had come in she’d simply stored everyone’s number in her contacts list and never learned any by rote.
She dialled 999.
‘I’m a police officer,’ she told the dispatcher, and recited her name followed by her warrant and collar numbers. ‘I need DI Faris MacDonald’s phone number urgently.’
‘Sending it through now.’
Ting.
Lucy dialled his number. She could have screamed when it went to his mailbox. She tried to remain calm but quickly dissolved into a hiccupping, sobbing mess.
‘Sorry, Mac, sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m OK, really. Christopher’s gone to g-get a ladder to get me out. Thank God he found me. His dog found me . . .’
‘Lucy,’ Christopher called. ‘Watch out.’
She hung up the phone as he lowered a rickety ladder that was missing two rungs and was rotten as hell, but it could have been a treasure chest filled with jewels for the joy it brought her.
She clambered up and then Christopher was reaching down and gripping her wrists and helping her. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. She was holding on to him – this wasn’t a dream, it was real, he was real. She was safe now. The tears kept pouring down. Christopher was also in tears. They held each other tightly for a long time, unable to let go.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
When Lucy saw where she’d been on the map, she said, ‘For God’s sake. What were you doing all the way out here?’
He looked away. Swallowed. ‘I’m trespassing actually. But when I know the coast is clear, that the landowner and head keeper are out of the way, I like to take a walk on our old land. I miss it, you see. Terribly.’
He’d led her to a burn that ran behind the abandoned farmyard, with clear, cold water. Lucy folded on to her front and scooped handfuls into her mouth. She lay there for a long time, drinking. Finally, she had rolled on to her back and looked at the sky.
I’m alive.
Now, they were in his VW Polo jerking and bouncing down a rough farm track. It had to be the same route her kidnapper had taken. The dog was in the back, panting. Christopher wound down his window.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I must stink.’
He looked across. He smiled. ‘You smell terrific. You smell of life.’
She dropped her sun visor. Looked in the vanity mirror.
‘Oh my God.’
Her nose was black and swollen. There were purple and black bruises under her eyes, hanging like over-ripe plums. Her nostrils were caked with dried blood, and there were more flakes of blood stuck around her mouth and chin.
She looked down at her hands. They were covered in dirt and her nails were bloody and broken from trying to climb out of the well.
She began to shake.
‘I’ll take you to Elgin,’ Christopher said. ‘To the hospital.’
‘No,’ she said. She didn’t want to go somewhere impersonal. She wanted to be with friends, to feel safe and protected. ‘Take me to Grace.’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
Grace took one look at her and burst into tears.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘God, I’m so unprofessional . . .’
Lucy said, ‘I’d hug you, except I reek.’
‘I don’t care what you smell like.’ Grace went to Lucy and held her close. Tried not to sob, failed. ‘Sorry,’ she said again. She looked at Christopher as she wept. ‘Thanks.’
‘I was walking the dog . . .’ He made a helpless gesture. ‘I can’t believe it.’
Grace finally leaned back, wiping the tears from her face. ‘Let me have a look at you.’ She held Lucy’s chin between her fingers and turned her face from side to side. ‘It doesn’t look deformed. When did the nosebleed stop?’
‘The day before yesterday.’
‘Any whistling sound when you breathe?’
‘No.’
‘Pain in your sinuses?’
‘Not nearly as bad as they were.’
Grace was relieved the skin and septum wall appeared to be intact. ‘Home treatment will be fine. Ice packs for ten minutes every few hours for the rest of the day will help. I’ll clean you up and give you some paracetamol. Tonight, make sure you prop your head up in bed with lots of pillows, to help reduce the swelling. In a month or so no one will be able to tell it was broken.’
‘Thanks, doc.’ Lucy gave a smile.
‘Keep your fluid levels up.’
Grace gently bathed Lucy’s face before turning her attention to her bloody fingers. She applied antiseptic and bandaged the worst ones leaving the others to heal naturally in the open air.
‘I’ll strap your ankle for now,’ she told her, ‘but, like your face, it needs ice packs and to be elevated. When did you last eat?’
‘Breakfast Monday.’
Grace nipped outside and came back with a chicken and mayonnaise sandwich, and a Mars bar. ‘Courtesy of the practice manager. She’ll get herself another lunch in a moment.’
Lucy devoured the sandwich and started on the Mars bar.
‘Does your boss know you’re OK?’ Grace asked. ‘Mac?’
‘I’ve left a message.’ Lucy looked at Christopher. ‘He’ll call you because he’ll see your number come up.’
‘Yes.’ Christopher’s voice was quiet.
Grace took in the slight sheen of sweat on his skin. ‘You look like a ghost. Are you all right?’
‘I think it’s the shock.’ He glanced at the door then away. Rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I can’t stop thinking that if I hadn’t walked the dog where I did . . .’
He closed his eyes and swayed. ‘And then there’s Dad . . . The police took him away this morning.’
Grace went to him and grabbed an elbow, steered him to a chair. ‘Sit down,’ she commanded.
He sat.
‘I did that particular walk because . . . I thought I might never be able to do it again. It’s one of my favourites.’ His eyes were still closed.
‘I’m glad you did.’ Grace touched him gently on the shoulder.
‘Why you?’ Christopher asked Lucy. It seemed a rhetorical question, but she still answered it.
‘I’m not sure,’ she said. ‘But I think it was a combination of things. He kidnapped me after I’d met Dan’s contact. We didn’t talk at all, but the kidnapper wouldn’t have known it. I also re-traced the route I thought Connor may have taken. I think he got lost in the fog and the rain, and ended up at the wrong end of town. I tried it and came out at the Blackwater Industrial Estate. Slap bang outside Green Test Lab. There was what looked like a mortuary van outside. I hung around for a bit but I didn’t see anyone.’
‘A what?’ Christopher’s voice was faint.
‘A mortuary van.’
Christopher ran a finger between
his neck and shirt collar. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Pretty sure, yes.’ She swallowed. ‘I don’t know what’s going on in that lab, but I think Connor saw something. And was killed for it.’
He looked at Lucy. And as he looked, the blood continued to leave his face until he was bone white. Was he going into shock? Grace wondered, and she was going to suggest he lie down when he jack-knifed to his feet.
‘I’ve got to go,’ he said.
‘You know something?’ Lucy asked.
He didn’t respond. He headed for the door.
‘No, wait!’ Ignoring the stabs of pain in her ankle, Lucy hared after him. ‘Did you know you have a listening device in your car?’
He stopped dead. Turned around. ‘What?’
‘A bug. In your Polo.’
For a second he looked as though he hadn’t heard her but then he said, ‘Fuck.’
As Grace watched him, the colour began to return to his face, filling the muscles with blood. She was relieved. She’d honestly thought he was going to pass out.
‘Tell me what’s going on,’ Lucy said.
‘I can’t.’
‘TELL ME!’ she yelled. ‘Because whatever it is nearly got me killed!’
‘Sorry.’
He headed outside, Lucy hot on his heels. Anxious, Grace looked through the window to see Christopher was heading to his car. Lucy was right alongside, still badgering him.
It was only because Grace was at her window and facing the rear of the surgery’s wheelie bins that she saw him.
A man in his fifties, dressed in a double-breasted camel coat. Long pale face. His gloved hands held a pistol with a long snout. A silencer.
Sirius Thiele.
He was stalking Christopher and Lucy.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX
Grace went completely light-headed.
What was Sirius Thiele doing here?
She dropped down out of sight. Tried to focus. She couldn’t ring Lucy and warn her as Lucy didn’t have her phone. She didn’t know Christopher’s number, but since it should be on the surgery’s system . . .
She crept to the windowsill.
Sirius was now walking openly towards Christopher and Lucy. He held his pistol behind his back. They hadn’t seen him. He was going to walk up to them, really close, and shoot them. He wouldn’t miss.
Panic and fear surged through her.
Oh, God.
She had no time.
No time to dial 999. No time to think.
Grace exploded for the door. Yanked it back. Tore down the corridor. She smacked into a patient who grabbed her arm, saying, ‘Whoa there,’ and shoved him aside. Pushed on by terror, Grace threw herself at the surgery doors and flung them open, leaping down the steps three at a time. She sprinted across the car park.
If she ran fast enough, she’d cut him off. She was almost between him and her friends. She just had to get there first.
Sirius’s gait was smooth and steady. He was closing in on Christopher and Lucy. But she was closer. If she could run just a bit faster . . .
Lucy began to turn as she heard running footsteps. Christopher faltered too, but Sirius kept walking. In a single, smooth movement Sirius brought up his gun.
‘Sirius!’ Grace yelled. ‘Stop!’
He didn’t falter, didn’t pause. He took aim. He was going to take Christopher down first. Then Lucy.
Grace saw Lucy was already moving, sprinting away but Christopher stood paralysed. He was staring wide-eyed as though he couldn’t believe his eyes.
Grace could see Sirius’s finger around the trigger and knew he was going to fire at any moment. Without thinking, she flung herself in front of Christopher.
‘Stop!’ she gasped. Her heart hammered against her ribs, her blood humming in her ears. ‘Just stop.’
She heard a car driving down the road in front of the surgery. A crow cawing. But otherwise everything was quiet.
‘Grace.’ Sirius’s expression was sombre. ‘Please move out of the way.’
‘No.’
His eyes held hers. The same black, wet pebbles from her nightmares.
‘I won’t ask a second time.’
‘Then you’ll have to shoot him through m-me.’ Her voice wobbled.
‘Christopher,’ Sirius said quietly. ‘Do you want Grace to be shot while protecting you?’
Christopher didn’t move or speak. Grace didn’t look at him. She’d already diagnosed him as temporarily unable to function – he was frozen with fear.
‘Let him go,’ she said.
Sirius shook his head, making a tsk-ing sound. ‘If I do that, then I may as well retire.’
‘Retire then.’
‘It’s not as easy as you may think.’
‘Why not?’
‘There’s my reputation to think of.’
He took a step forward but Grace pressed herself against Christopher, putting her arms behind her and around Christopher’s middle.
‘What’s wrong with being seen as merciful?’
‘In my business, everything.’ His voice was dry.
‘Please.’
He leaned slightly to the side. Was he looking to see if he could get a clear shot at Christopher? Grace leaned in the same direction.
Sirius leaned to the other. Grace mirrored him.
‘Christopher’s a friend,’ Grace begged. ‘You can’t kill him.’
He sighed.
‘Then you leave me no choice.’
Grace felt a sudden urge to urinate. She gave a small whimper but she didn’t move.
The gun didn’t waver. His eyes gleamed.
He sighed again.
To her astonishment, Sirius withdrew one hand from his gun and brought out a phone. Dialled.
‘It is with regret that I cancel my current contract with you with immediate effect.’
He listened for a few seconds then said, ‘Permanently.’
He lowered the gun. Began to step backwards. Grace didn’t trust him. Was he pretending so that she’d move and he’d get a clear shot at Christopher? But he kept backing away. When he was six or seven yards from them he turned. His steps were brisk and he reached the far end of the car park within seconds.
‘What the hell?’ Lucy arrived in a rush.
Grace was still staring at the spot where Sirius had been standing. Her ears were ringing and she felt dizzy. Slowly, she folded to her knees.
‘He cancelled his contract,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t understand why.’
She glanced at Christopher, who was staring at her with a peculiar expression on his face.
‘Am I the only one who sees it?’
‘Sees what?’ asked Grace.
Christopher looked at the space where Sirius had vanished and then back at Grace.
‘Did you notice he had a birthmark on the side of his neck?’ he said. His voice was calm. ‘Below his right ear?’
Grace stared at him.
‘Shaped like an ivy leaf?’
Her hand went to her neck. Something inside her started to crawl.
He held her eyes. ‘Birthmarks can be inherited,’ he said in the same calm tone. ‘Some marks may be similar to marks on other family members. And when you take in facial shapes, skin and eye colour, freckles, body type, height . . .’
Her ears were ringing. She opened and closed her mouth but no sound came out.
‘If you don’t mind my saying,’ Christopher said, ‘you certainly have some interesting relatives.’
‘I’m related?’
‘You could get a DNA test done, but in my opinion you’d be wasting your money. It’s obvious.’
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
Lucy helped Grace inside the surgery. ‘I know you’ve had a shock,’ she said, ‘and I wish I could stay with you . . .’
Over her shoulder, Lucy saw Christopher had climbed into his car and was buckling up.
‘But I want to see where Christopher’s going. Something’s wrong, I need to find ou
t what.’
Grace’s lips were trembling, her skin cold and waxy. She looked as though she might throw up. ‘I’m related to a mass murderer?’
‘You don’t know that for sure.’
‘Mum told me Dad died when I was a baby, drowned at sea . . . what if that’s not true?’
‘He could just be a distant cousin or something,’ Lucy tried to reassure her. ‘Or related by marriage.’
Lucy heard the Polo’s engine start.
‘When he handcuffed us to the radiator,’ Grace said. Her voice was distant. ‘Do you remember he gave me one of Mum’s big squashy cushions to sit on? And how when he handcuffed me he told me he’d done it so my muscles wouldn’t freeze up as quickly?’ Her gaze was wild on Lucy. ‘He knew back then we were related. He knew.’
‘Get yourself a shot of brandy,’ she told Grace urgently. ‘Anything. I’ll be back as soon as I can. OK?’
Grace nodded but Lucy knew she hadn’t heard her. She was deep in her own mind, struggling with what could turn out to be a potentially horrifying revelation. She’d just see where Christopher went and then she’d come back to Grace.
‘Can I borrow your car?’ Lucy asked.
‘Keys are on my desk.’
Lucy sprang up and grabbed them. Refusing to let her ankle slow her down, she raced outside to see Christopher’s Polo turn right out of the car park. Jumping into Grace’s car, she started the engine. Rammed it in gear and tore after him.
Thankfully he hadn’t put much distance between them and was barely half-way down the street. He was over the speed limit, doing forty miles per hour in a thirty zone, and as she followed him she felt her breathing begin to level out, her pulse settle.
She kept an eye out for Sirius. Grace’s relative or not, she’d love to arrest him, throw his sociopathic backside behind bars. But she had more important things right now. Sirius would have to wait.
Christopher drove down Duncaid’s high street, turning right at the clock tower and continuing for half a mile. Just past the Beanscene Café he turned right again, and she knew where he was going. To the Blackwater Industrial Estate.
She dropped back a little. He was out of sight when she turned into the estate. Instincts screaming with danger, she checked the Green Test Lab first, but he wasn’t there. Nor was he at the Biofoods lab. She trickled to the other side of the industrial estate to see he’d parked outside the Duncaid Environmental Research Centre.