Lethal Ties

by Christmas, Helen

  “This feels like heaven,” I murmured, my eyes drawn to a swirl of steam suspended below the ceiling beams. The effect was hypnotic. “It’s lovely to have you here, but really, what is all this in aid of?”

  “Nothing,” he sighed. “You deserve a treat. Sometimes I wonder if you should just live each day as if it’s your last.”

  That stirring sentence stayed with me deep into the night, long after we had drifted into the master bedroom to make love. I felt as if we were climbing towards the pinnacle of our dreams, where every little gesture seemed tender.

  Though in another way, his words shook me hollow. It was a blissful escape while it lasted, as if we knew we were living on a knife edge.

  Mr. Mortimer could indeed be in Sussex.

  But how long had he been here? Even from a distance I sensed his power, like a spider weaving its deadly web all around us.

  Looking back, I see that I never knew how much Sam was trying to shield me. Had he been more truthful and revealed everything the police had discovered about that hateful man, it might have changed everything. With the weekend approaching, I might never have been coaxed into an agreement so easily. But the events of the following day, not long after Sam had departed for work, left me floundering.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Seven o’ clock the next morning, I watched with a heavy heart as Sam slipped on his jacket.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll never beat the motorway rush hour and I need to be in London by nine.”

  “It’s okay, I understand,” I murmured.

  Lingering in the doorway, he kissed me on the lips. The crisp country air drew out the essence of his aftershave, the trace of coffee on his breath sending my head into a spin. But as his car faded from view, I forced myself to accept the reality. He would have to commute for the time being. Closing the door, I returned to the kitchen.

  The delicious aroma of croissants, still warm from the oven, was next to hit my senses, and with plenty of time to kill before work, I made another coffee.

  But as I tidied up the kitchen and put the plates away, my fears began to resurface.

  Joe. Where was he?

  With the turmoil of everything else unravelling, I still hadn’t managed to get in touch with him.

  Sitting bolt upright, I put my mug down. Hadn’t Sam mentioned something about DI Fitzpatrick talking to him, and if so, why hadn’t he contacted me? With a frown I switched on my mobile, but I was thinking about my flat. I had definitely seen traces of Joe’s presence there, and if I couldn’t get through to his mobile, then surely I could reach him on my landline.

  Several rings later, though, I heard my own recorded message.

  “Joe!” I shouted. “If you’re there, for God’s sake pick up.”

  Nothing.

  “I’m going out of my mind with worry, Joe. I need to know you’re okay.”

  The drag of silence felt even more crushing.

  “Just ring me asap, will you?” I finished with a sob, but as my heart plummeted still further, I remembered his job.

  Didn’t Joe usually work a shift on Friday?

  I could always ring Sainsbury’s to check he was there, but if I couldn’t trace him at work, then what? I’d have no choice but to contact the police.

  Deep down, I knew Joe would never blank me, and as I drank in my surroundings, I felt the brush of a shiver. This house, for all its beauty, meant nothing to me in the absence of my dear friend. And right now it felt eerie, something about the atmosphere chilling me to the core.

  Later in the office, when a colleague said there was a call for me, I leapt from my chair as if my desk were on fire. Of all the people who would contact me at work, though, I never expected to hear from Sarah.

  “Maisie?” she began shakily, “I-I hate to call like this but I’m at the end of my tether and don’t know what to do for the best...”

  “Calm down,” I tried to soothe her. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

  “It’s Connor.”

  Tears splintered her voice. I thought for one horrible moment this related to the warning she had received; that darkly veiled threat via Facebook that alluded not only to the town she was living in, but the identity of her foster son.

  “Oh no,” I mumbled, “has something happened to him?”

  “Not yet it hasn’t...”

  The story that transpired was like nothing I had imagined though. His school had threatened to exclude him, and all because of a girl he liked.

  There had to be a lot more to this story, surely.

  Yet with his strange behaviour, his social awkwardness and staring, some of the nastier kids had been spreading rumours; the notion he was some psycho.

  “He followed her home, that’s all! He only wanted to know where she lived so he could post a birthday card without anyone knowing. It was so harmless!”

  “But that’s hardly grounds for exclusion,” I spluttered.

  “No, except the parents have muscled in and completely blown things out of proportion. I hate to sound condescending, but talking to them on the phone, they weren’t the most educated people. Read too many tabloids, spend half their time watching the Jeremy Kyle show... they’ve accused him of stalking her but with no understanding of his Asperger’s.”

  “But can’t you explain it to them?” I said.

  “I’ve got no choice,” she shuddered, “they’re coming over tonight to have it out with us, and I know it won’t be pleasant, but it’s Connor I’m worried about. I don’t want him to be here, not if they’re going to start viciously attacking him. It will shatter his confidence and he’s had enough knock-backs already.”

  I felt a shiver of dread, thinking how familiar this sounded, but with memories of Paula’s confrontation charging back to me, I could see where she was coming from.

  Worried about her daughter. Referring to him as a ‘weird kid’, where something as innocent as staring had been rapidly perceived as creepy.

  “Oh Sarah, I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. I wish I could help.”

  “I-I was wondering,” she stammered. “Is there any chance we can drive over and see you? I know you’re at work, but when do you take a lunch break?”

  By the time I made it back to the cottage, midday, I was feeling uneasy. What Sarah was asking of me seemed obvious enough, but the timing couldn’t be worse.

  Greeting them in the driveway, I was shocked by Connor’s demeanour.

  Where was that impassioned, inquisitive teenager who had visited the previous weekend?

  Withdrawn into a shell of shame, he would not even meet my eye. His face looked pale, every delicate contour rigid as if carved from stone.

  Several minutes later, I had arranged some chairs around the patio. Sarah had brought a picnic, wrapping us in the illusion we were enjoying a nice summer outing.

  Connor, though, wasn’t fooled.

  “Am I allowed to hide here?” he mumbled. “I don’t care if I have to sleep in the summerhouse.”

  I could have smiled, though at least the weather was on his side. Exceptionally dry in the last week and with temperatures barely dropping below twenty degrees, a blanket of warmth clung to the air.

  “You don’t have to camp in the garden,” I said.

  “I’m sorry about this,” Sarah kept apologising, “but I don’t know who else to turn to. Maybe you should check with Sam first to ask if he can stay?”

  “For the weekend?” I frowned. “Sure! Sam said Connor was welcome any time.”

  “Not the weekend,” Sarah added, “just tonight! I hate to impose at such short notice, but I’m hoping this will have blown over by tomorrow.”

  “Sam’s already been here,” I enlightened her. “He turned up last night, which reminds me of something else I need to tell you...”

  She must have seen the way my face clouded over.

  “Oh dear. Is something wrong? D’you know I’d almost forgotten about this police investigation.” />
  The gears in my mind spun faster; if Connor was to stay in the area for the next twenty-four hours, it was essential he understood the danger.

  “It’s Mortimer,” I shivered. “He’s been spotted in West Sussex, and this is another reason Sam drove down... He thinks I might be at risk.”

  Exchanging a nervous glance, I bit my lip, charged with a sudden fear.

  Connor, on the other hand, seemed unfazed. Staring into the distance with his blank expression, I wondered if he had even heard me.

  “Connor, you need to listen... I’m going to have to go back to work soon, which means you’ll be here on your own for a few hours.”

  Still avoiding my eye, he gave a silent nod.

  “You can stay,” I said more firmly, “but on one condition.”

  “What is it, Maisie?”

  “Promise to stay indoors. This man I mentioned, Mr. Mortimer... He is a very bad man and could be dangerous.”

  Connor let out a sniff. “Really?”

  “Yes!” I gasped. “You have to believe me.”

  I did not like his expression. He was looking at me in a way that suggested morbid fascination, his eyes two shining orbs in the sunlight.

  “A bad man?” he echoed. He gave a cutting smile. “We should get on just fine, then.”

  “Connor, stop this,” Sarah scolded him, “you’re starting to scare me.”

  “But I’m not scared. All the kids at school think I’m a psycho, and it’s true, isn’t it? So why would I be afraid of this man?”

  Sarah’s face drained of colour. “I have no idea where you picked up this rubbish,” she whispered, “but I don’t want to hear it. Not now!”

  “Okay,” he sighed, disentangling his legs from under his chair, “just being honest, and yes, I do need some time on my own. Isn’t this what you drove me down to Sussex for, so I could hide from all this rubbish?”

  Chilled by the direction the conversation was going, I didn’t know which way to turn. Staring each other out, like two prize fighters in a boxing ring, it was Sarah who broke the deadlock.

  “Do you want to stay here tonight or not?”

  “You know I do,” he replied in a clipped voice.

  “Then show some respect,” she finished softly. “Please, Connor! All Maisie is trying to do is protect you. So I hope you will heed her concerns.”

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  A creature of habit, Joe was accustomed to waking early on Fridays. So when the sun cast its first fiery rays across London, it didn’t take long for him to realise he should have been at work. His life had taken an unforeseen twist in the last twenty-four hours, and after politely requesting to borrow someone’s phone, he finally got through to Sainsbury’s.

  Unfortunately, his boss sounded none too pleased.

  “Where are you, Joe?” she confronted him angrily.

  Guilt pounded into him like a sledgehammer as he pieced together his words. “I’m sorry, Vicky, I’m in London and I’ve lost my phone. Things got a bit dicey but I had to visit the police station. Do you want me to work tomorrow?”

  A nerve-wracking silence followed. Joe held his breath as she absorbed his words, yet by the time she found her voice, it resonated with sympathy.

  “It’s okay, I didn’t mean to snap. Better you keep your head down and take the weekend off, then as soon as the dust settles, ring me back, okay?”

  Her words had a momentary sobering effect and only then did he consider his predicament. Shuffling his way to Victoria Station, he figured he couldn’t stay here for much longer. He had to return Bognor, if for no other reason than to grab his rucksack.

  Using his last twenty pound note, he bought an off-peak ticket, but fearing the possibility of his enemies lurking, spent the next hour hidden in a cafe.

  It was past ten o’ clock when he tentatively approached the platform, and with the crowds swelling around him, he felt the tension drop from his shoulders.

  The journey passed in a tangle of confused thoughts but somewhere in the maze, a solution gradually began to unwind itself. By the time he arrived, it would be nearly noon and with the pavements teaming with people, what was the likelihood of an attack in broad daylight?

  Joe nonetheless kept his eyes peeled as he crept from the station. Footsteps dragging, he forced himself to keep going and as he turned the corner of Annandale Avenue, he could sense the proximity of the house.

  Continuing north, he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

  No sign of the silver van, thank God.

  It could be a decoy, of course, but what choice did he have? With his thoughts flitting back to Maisie, he had to warn her. Alone and isolated, there was no telling what Sam had said to her; Sam who he couldn’t trust, never sure of the lies with which his mind might have been poisoned.

  Footsteps quickening, it was now or never. Joe glanced around, and shimmying up to the door, slid his key into the lock, making as little noise as possible.

  Once inside, he froze again, listening for any signs of occupancy. The hallway yawned before him, the staircase lit under the bright yellow glow of a ceiling lamp. Yet not a sound emanated from anywhere.

  So the first hurdle was crossed. If he could just get into Maisie’s flat undetected. Breath quickening, he unlocked the door, and edging his way inside with as much stealth as possible, closed it gently behind him. For a few more seconds he dared not move, his heart thumping. A clock ticked on the wall, but other than the occasional passing car on the road, the place remained eerily silent.

  Now he was here though, he could not waste a second. His first priority was to get a shower and change. Discarding his clothes, he stepped into the bath. The spray of hot water not only refreshed him, but soothed his aching limbs and feet, still throbbing from the hours spent running.

  Clean, changed and reinvigorated, his next goal was to grab his precious rucksack. He could not manage another day without his wallet, and if he withdrew some funds, he could always purchase a ‘pay as you go phone.’ How else was he going to get through to Maisie? Or the police, for that matter, should his fate take a turn for the worst?

  Joe sank into a chair. He didn’t want to delay his departure, but the notion that his enemies were close toyed darkly with his thoughts.

  That was when he spotted the light flashing on the answering machine.

  Rising to press the play button, he jumped at the sound of Maisie’s voice.

  “Joe! If you’re there, for God’s sake pick up...”

  Even he detected the alarm in her voice.

  “I’m going out of my mind with worry, Joe. I need to know you’re okay... Just ring me asap, will you?”

  Backing away from the table, he gulped back the lump of panic in his throat before hoisting his rucksack onto his shoulders.

  The thought of seeing her was the only light glinting out of the darkness, whilst in another corner of his mind flashed the notion that she was in danger. She still had no knowledge of the spyware on her phone. How could he hope to warn her? He had to find a way of reaching her.

  Hadn’t DI Fitzpatrick said that Sam was driving down?

  Yet even if they were together, there was no guarantee they were safe.

  “Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

  Moving towards the door, he made up his mind. He had no option left, other than to travel to Chichester and locate her. He would get a taxi to East Lavant if he had to. Anything to protect her from Mortimer...

  As he stepped back into the hallway, though, he had forgotten about his own safety. A creak in the gloom brought him to a crashing halt, his eyes darting in all directions. They latched onto his neighbour’s flat, but the door was firmly shut.

  So where had that sound come from, and why was it so dark?

  It took another second to realise the lamp above the staircase was no longer shining.

  Then a second creak tore the silence, louder this time. Joe couldn’t move, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he searched madly for the source. B
y the time he had detected the squeak of a hinge under the stairs, it was too late.

  A huge menacing shape emerged from the shadows, blocking his only avenue of escape. Joe backed into the wall, only to feel an excruciating slash of pain across his belly. Robbed of any means of defending himself, he buckled to the floor, helpless, staring at his attacker in dread.

  How could he have guessed there was a cupboard under the stairs, a perfect place to lie in wait for him?

  He let out a groan, wary of the man drawing closer. There was just enough light in the grey gloom of the hall to carve out his brutal features.

  Schiller.

  And only then did he see the knife in the man’s hand, a shimmer of cold steel reflecting each movement.

  “At last,” the man growled.

  His sadistic smile hurled Joe years into the past. He squirmed on the ground, watching in horror as Schiller ran his finger along the flat of the blade. It came away dark with blood. His blood? He let out another whimper, and clutching his stomach, felt a flood of liquid, warm and wet, streaming through his fingers.

  His eyes met Schiller’s in a flash of understanding, the man still smiling before he licked the blood off his fingers.

  “How long I have waited,” he laughed evilly. “Time for you to die.”

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Something was wrong, I could feel it in my blood. I didn’t like leaving Connor alone in the house in the mood he was in, fearful he would get up to something.

  My colleagues shrugged it off glibly, insisting I should stop worrying. From their modern-day perspectives, he was just behaving like any other surly teenager, and they were complex creatures.

  “He’s just testing you, Maisie. Seeing how far he can push the boundaries.”

  But I couldn’t return their smiles. None of them had seen the flare in his eyes I recalled from earlier, that irrepressible force of defiance.