by Maggie James
‘I’m so frightened. Please help me, Lyddie—’
Scott leaned over, cutting Ellie off mid-sentence. Then he rummaged in my bag, bringing out my mobile. He thrust it into my hand. I stared at him, my sister’s words playing in my head. She’d mentioned rats, hadn’t she? Scott had already said he was holding her somewhere close. That brought to mind the woodshed that belonged to the cottage. One that had a door that bolted from the outside. The obvious place to hold her captive.
Scott reached into his inside jacket pocket. And brought out a knife. He held it to my throat.
‘Time to repay what you stole from me. I have the upper hand here, remember.’
I forced a bravado I didn’t feel. ‘You’ll never get your money. Not unless you let Ellie and me go.’
He laughed. The blade scraped over my skin, then pressed against my jugular.
‘You reckon?’ Scott said. ‘Think again.’ His fingers pushed down harder on the blade, almost enough to pierce my skin.
‘Oh, the damage this knife could inflict. You’d do anything I asked, believe me.’
Scott stepped away, then thrust the knife back into his jacket. ‘What are you waiting for? Log into your bank account. I’ll give you the details of where to transfer the money.’
‘What happens afterwards?’ I said, fighting to keep the fear from my voice. ‘That’s when you kill both of us, right?’
Scott grinned. ‘Transfer the money, bitch,’ he said. ‘All twenty grand of it.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘Either you give me back what you stole now, or later. After I’ve had some fun.’ He patted his jacket pocket, the one containing his knife.
‘I’m not scared of you, you bastard.’ I was playing for time. Could my mobile be a weapon? What if I smashed it into his teeth while I kicked his legs from under him?
‘Maybe you’re not. But Ellie’s terrified of me.’
I couldn’t breathe. He’d found my Achilles heel.
‘She’s close to here, remember. I’ll bring her to the cottage. You can watch while I go to work on her.’
Terror froze my heart. ‘Don’t hurt her. Please. I’ll do whatever you want.’
To my frustration, Scott moved behind me to monitor what I did with my phone. So much for my idea of ramming it into that goddamn smirk. My fingers shook as I tapped the screen on my mobile. Three bungled attempts later I managed to access my bank’s website. He leaned closer, his eyes taking in my balances. Between my current and savings accounts, I had over forty thousand pounds.
Scott let out a low whistle. ‘Looks like I’ve hit the jackpot. The price of seeing your sister alive just doubled.’ He grinned. ‘Transfer the lot. Every penny.’
No way could I argue. Panic caused me to fumble as I sent the entire balance of my savings over to my current account. Then I waited for his instructions.
‘You ready?’ he asked. ‘And remember, bitch, I’m watching your every move.’
He read out a sort code, account number and name from his mobile. I entered them, then set up a new recipient. When that was done, I typed in the amount to transfer, and tapped the ‘submit’ button.
Up came a warning message. I couldn’t move more than thirty thousand pounds in any twenty-four-hour period unless I used my bank’s fee-based service. That would take one working day to complete.
‘Do it, bitch,’ Scott said. ‘You won’t be alive in twenty-four hours, anyway.’
What choice did I have? Within minutes, I’d set up the transfer. I’d now lost fifty thousand pounds to this bastard. Not that the money mattered, not with Ellie tied up and helpless. With him behind me, the path to the doorway was clear. I thought fast. Smash the marble vase against his head. Run like hell, get to the woodshed ...
‘Thanks for that,’ Scott said. ‘It’s been fun, hasn’t it? The game stops here though.’
He grabbed my phone, tossing it back into my bag, before walking back in front of me again. His fingers travelled towards the pocket containing the knife, a grin on his face. Only seconds separated me from being stabbed to death, and I acted from pure instinct. My hands seized my handbag and swung it towards his head. The bag didn’t contain much weight, but I was counting on surprising him while my right foot kicked towards his ankle. A futile effort. Scott deflected the bag’s trajectory and side-stepped my foot, his other arm shooting out to grasp my wrist.
‘You’ll pay for that, bitch.’ Every word a snarl. Terror pounded through me. Scott had his money, and no reason to keep Ellie and me alive.
A sound reached my ears from outside. Scott’s too, from the way his body went rigid. The noise of gravel crunching underfoot, approaching the cottage.
‘Help!’ I screamed. ‘Whoever you are, please help me!’
The front door opened. Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Ellie walked into the room.
22
I stared at my sister. Her expression was calm, as though she hadn’t a care in the world. The woman who stood before me wasn’t someone who’d been knocked unconscious and held captive in a woodshed. Her wrists bore no signs of having been tied, no angry welts marring her pale skin. She smiled at me.
‘Hello, Lyddie,’ she said. She walked over to Scott, planting a kiss on his mouth. ‘Hi, darling.’
A billion neurons short-circuited in my brain. I could barely compute what was happening.
‘What are you playing at?’ Scott grabbed Ellie’s arm. ‘This isn’t what we agreed. You were supposed to wait in the car.’
Ellie laughed. ‘Does it matter? We’ll soon be long gone. Besides, why should you have all the fun? Don’t I get to enjoy any?’
‘I don’t understand.’ A quiver sounded in my voice, and I hated myself for it. Deep inside, I knew the truth. I’d realised it the instant Ellie addressed Scott as ‘darling’. All I lacked were the details.
It seemed deception wore many faces. One of them my sister’s.
‘Talk to me, Ellie,’ I pleaded. ‘What has he done, or said, to you?’
A harsh laugh escaped her. ‘All the right things, believe me.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I repeated. ‘I thought you loved me. Why are you doing this?’
Her mouth twisted with contempt. ‘You have to ask that? Really?’
No love was visible in my sister’s expression. Quite the opposite. Pain, followed by bewilderment, swept through me. Why did she hate me so much?
‘Fuck it. If you don’t know, I can’t be bothered to tell you,’ Ellie said.
Stupefied, I stared at her. Scott stood to one side, watching us, that damn grin back on his face.
‘You reckon you’re so smart, don’t you?’ my sister continued. ‘You were stupid enough to hand me that bag of cash, though.’
She’d not given the money to the homeless, of that I was sure. Odds were the whole twenty thousand was back with Scott. ‘You said he conned you out of your savings. Was that another lie?’
She nodded. ‘Steven loves me. We’re going to be married. The only one he’s tricked is you.’
Oh, he’d conned Ellie, all right. Once the prick found out about her inheritance, that she had a sibling with money, he’d have planned a double scam. All the while promising marriage to my vulnerable sister.
When I didn’t reply, she carried on, ‘I loaned him money to help him through a lean patch, like any supportive girlfriend would. Steven means the world to me.’
‘If you’re so happy with him, why the suicide attempt?’
She snorted. ‘That wasn’t real. I swallowed a few pills, then phoned Mum, knowing she’d call an ambulance straightaway.’
She keeps asking for you. Our mother’s words after I arrived at Southmead. ‘So I’d come back to Bristol. You played me.’
‘Yep.’ God, how manipulative she’d been.
‘I don’t understand. Why tell me he stole your money?’
‘That was Steven’s idea. So I could get revenge on you.’
‘Revenge? Fo
r what?’
She ignored me. ‘The plan was to convince you I’d been conned out of my savings. So you’d give me the cash you thought he’d taken from me. Instead you banged on about sorting my finances and setting up spreadsheets.’ Acid filled her tone. ‘The one time I needed you to play the big-sister role, you failed me.’
Aghast, I stared at her.
‘Then Steven told me he’d spotted your picture on Premier Love Matches. He recognised you after seeing a photo of you at my flat. That’s when he suggested he should pretend to date you, said he’d get money from you that way.’
How could she be so gullible? ‘And you didn’t wonder why he was browsing a dating website? If he wants to marry you?’
Scott stepped forward. ‘I was deleting my profile,’ he said. ‘I joined several sites when I decided to search for my soulmate. But then I met Ellie, and we fell in love.’ He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. My sister gazed at him, adoration in her eyes.
‘You see?’ Ellie said. ‘He loves me. We’re planning on living in America after we’re married.’
‘That’s impossible. There are strict regulations governing immigration into the USA. And what about Mum? Don’t you care about her?’
Ellie didn’t reply, but I saw shame creep across her features. Perhaps I was getting through to her after all.
‘What about when you confronted him at my place? Was that just an act?’
‘All part of the plan. Along with that crap about my business being in financial trouble. So you’d believe Steven and not me.’ Her lips turned contemptuous. ‘You must admit I can play a role pretty well. I should have been an actor.’
‘And it didn’t bother you? That he dated me at the same time as you?’
‘Ellie knows I love her,’ Scott said. ‘Isn’t that right, darling?’ Over the top of her head, he winked at me.
‘Steven would never cheat on me,’ Ellie said. ‘I trust him with my life.’
‘You may well end up giving him your life.’ Bitterness seeped into my tone. ‘Others have. Darcy Logan, for one.’
My sister gave a mock laugh. ‘That drug-addled bitch. She died of a heroin overdose, pure and simple. Scott’s not a murderer.’
‘He killed Sophie Hannigan too. By proxy that time.’
Ellie stared at me. ‘Who’s she?’
‘Another of his victims.’ I warmed to my theme. ‘He’s a con artist, don’t you see? The bastard’s worked his wiles on a string of women and if any of them threaten to contact the police they end up dead. He’s already admitted he paid Darcy to stab Sophie. All because she intended to blow the whistle on him.’
Ellie stepped out of Scott’s embrace, fury sparking from her eyes. ‘You’re a liar. Steven could never kill anyone.’
Oh, how little she knew him. He’d played her like the master of his game he was. To protest further would be pointless - Scott had snared Ellie so tightly in his trap she’d not listen to a single word I uttered.
‘I still don’t know why you hate me so much,’ I said.
‘Go to the car, darling,’ Scott said. ‘Wait for me there. Lyddie and I will finish our little chat, then she can drive back to Bristol all safe and sound, like I promised you. And we can start our new life in America.’
Like the puppet she was, she moved towards the door. I had to act, and fast, because Scott was planning to kill me, then her. Of that I was certain.
‘Ellie. Don’t leave me. Please.’ She ignored me, heading into the hallway. A second later I heard her feet crunch over the gravel again. I was alone with Scott.
Perhaps that was a good thing. Better one opponent than two. Time for a little role-play of my own.
I shrank against the back of the chair, injecting fear into my tone. ‘Please don’t hurt me. I won’t tell anyone, I swear.’
He laughed. ‘Yeah, right. Now why don’t I believe you?’ He stood there for a couple of minutes, our eyes locked in a battle to establish who’d look away first. All the while his hand stroked the pocket containing his knife.
‘Such a shame we can’t spend longer together,’ he said at last. ‘But Ellie has a date with my sharp-edged friend here.’ Said with a drumbeat of fingers against the blade. ‘It’s time to end our little game.’
His hand dipped into his pocket, and I knew the moment had come. With lightning speed I leapt forward, my foot kicking hard against his ankle. Then I shoved him aside with every ounce of force I could muster. He crashed against the marble-topped mantelpiece, groaning in pain as I ran towards the doorway. I hurtled into the hallway and wrenched open the front door, banging it shut behind me once my feet touched the gravel outside. With only a few seconds’ advantage, I’d need to be quick. I’d left behind my handbag, containing my keys and my phone, meaning my only option was to flee on foot.
By then it was dark, the night illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight, clouds obscuring most of the sky. A faint drizzle filled the air. In my peripheral vision, I spotted the woodshed. I darted inside, drawing the door shut, the odour of old timber strong in my nostrils. In the half-light I glanced around. Against one wall stood an axe, dull from disuse. My hands grasped its handle, my heart hammering in my chest. I waited.
Seconds later the door to the cottage slammed back on its hinges, then banged shut again. Frantic footsteps sounded on the gravel path. Three possibilities existed. One: he’d run down the lane in the direction of the cliff top to find me, once he realised I’d not taken my car. In which case I’d sprint back to the cottage, bolt the door behind me, grab my mobile and call the police. Two: he’d assume I’d headed towards the village and follow the path that led there. Ditto as to my reaction. Or three: he’d spot the woodshed and guess I was hiding inside. My money was on him checking that option first. He must have heard the direction in which my footsteps had taken me, thanks to the gravel outside the cottage. If I was right, he’d receive one hell of a greeting.
My fingers tightened around the axe handle.
Footsteps. Coming my way. I dragged in a lungful of air, praying for strength as they moved closer.
‘Lyddie, Lyddie, Lyddie,’ Scott chanted, his tone high and mocking. ‘The longer it takes to find you, the more you and Ellie will suffer. You may as well come out now.’ The proximity of his voice told me he was almost at the entrance to the woodshed.
The door opened. Scott Champion stood before me.
I’d not banked on the axe being so heavy. No way could I swing it high enough to deliver sufficient damage to fell him. I managed to hoist it off the ground by six inches, aiming it at him as he lunged towards me. The blade of the axe struck his left ankle. Scott collapsed to the floor, a chant of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ issuing from his mouth. His eyes were squeezed shut with pain. A wound gaped, red and angry, at the bottom of his leg, blood running from it. The axe had been too blunt, my swing too feeble, to inflict more than a flesh injury. While I stared, Scott started to haul himself upright. The axe dropped from my hand with a clatter. Before he could regain a standing position, I kicked out, my foot scoring a hard blow right on the gash, causing him to collapse in agony again. Then I ran.
My feet pounded over the gravel as I raced towards the cottage, my only thought being to alert the police. To my horror I remembered the door needed a key to open it from outside. And mine was inside, in my handbag. I couldn’t dial 999 unless I broke in somehow. That might take time. With Scott hell-bent on revenge, I didn’t have the luxury of that option. The track to the village, my other hope for summoning help, started from behind the woodshed, with my would-be killer between it and me. All I could do was run in the other direction. So I did.
The sounds of cursing faded into the distance behind me. Whether Scott could pursue me depended on how badly I’d hurt him. His injured ankle would hinder him but I didn’t think it would stop him altogether. Fury might fuel his adrenaline, making him even more determined. The notion made my feet pound faster towards the dirt path leading from the cottage to the cliff. The earth had beco
me muddy thanks to the drizzle, which was steadily worsening. Several times my legs almost slipped from under me, my gasps of panic loud against the silence of the night.
Behind me, I heard the rhythm of feet, the sound off-kilter, that of a man unable to move as fast as he’d like. A grunt of pain accompanied each laboured step. Thank God; the sound told me I’d outstrip him in any race. Apart from one problem. The track ended in the cliff-top walk I’d taken so many times with Ellie, from which the only exit was the stone steps that led to the beach. Impossible for me to consider swimming to the next bay and wading ashore. The tides were treacherous and the shoreline rocky. I doubted I’d make it halfway before drowning. I was trapped between Scott and the sea, with no way out.
23
Besides the hazardous coastline, I faced another problem. Hidden on the lane ahead must be Scott’s Toyota. He couldn’t have left his car on the path that led to the village, or I’d have spotted it when I arrived. Ellie must be inside, and I didn’t rate too highly my chances of appealing to her better nature. I’d have to skirt around the vehicle instead and pray she didn’t spot me. The track was narrow, little more than the width of a car, and overgrown in places, difficult to follow in the darkness. Thick brambles on either side offered no opportunity for concealment. Behind me, I heard the grunts that signalled Scott was still in pursuit. My chest grew tight with panic, my breath coming in laboured gasps. The drizzle had turned into rain, my clothes sodden against my skin as I ran.
A dark shape came into view, tucked to one side under the hedgerow: Scott’s car, a gleam of moonlight silhouetting Ellie in the passenger seat. I ducked to my right, keeping near to the ground on the driver’s side, my breath held hostage in my chest. Every movement set off rustling noises through the brambles I hoped Ellie would ascribe to rats. Rodents terrified her; I doubted she’d leave the car to investigate the sounds. As I inched past, I heard a gasp of fear and knew I’d guessed correctly.
Once safely out of view, masked by the dark, I continued down the track. A hundred metres head of me, just visible around the curve in the lane, was the stone stile, its bulk dark and solid, forming a bridge between the bushes on either side. An idea sparked in my brain. I might not be able to escape either of them, but I could hide.