by Maggie James
Her own words drift back to her. Got any photos I can see?
Along with Lori’s response. Yeah. On my tablet. I’ll show you later, when you’re not so tired.
But she’d stayed tired, and Lori must have forgotten. Stupid of me, she berates herself.
Dana shudders, and the full implication of what she’s seen on Lori’s tablet slams, hard, into her. She has to act, and quickly, to protect her remaining child. Except she’s no idea where she might be.
‘Dana? Are you OK?’ Jake’s tone is worried.
She thrusts Lori’s tablet towards Jake. ‘He’s back,’ she says. ‘He’s been biding his time all these years, waiting to get revenge.’
Jake stares at the face on the screen, his expression blank. ‘Who is this man? Is he your brother?’
Hard to get the words out. ‘Yes. He’s Lori’s uncle. The man she’s been dating is Ross Reynolds, not Ryan Brooks. We have to find her quickly. He’s going to hurt her.’
‘What?’ Jake’s regarding her as though she’s told him his head has turned into Swiss cheese. So is Aiden, his expression one of horror.
‘It’s definitely him. It’s been twelve years since I last saw him, but I’d recognise that face anywhere.’
‘My God,’ Jake says. ‘I didn’t realise, not until tonight, that he was so much younger than you. What you’re saying makes sense now.’
Dana’s voice is sharp, decisive. The time for tears has passed; now she needs to take action. ‘Lori clearly has no idea who she’s dating. That much I know. But he – the bastard knows exactly who she is. He’s targeted her deliberately.’
‘But she’s his niece, for God’s sake.’ Shock in Aiden’s voice.
Suddenly Dana’s stomach plummets. ‘Oh, Jesus,’ she whispers. A terrifying realisation has come to her. ‘It was him all along.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Jessie. Ross was the one who killed her, not Spencer.’ Dana can hardly breathe, so great is her fear.
‘But how?’
‘I don’t know, but he’ll have found a way, believe me. And he’s behind those fires at my properties. It’s got to be him who’s been setting them. He’s not just targeting Lori. He’s going after all three of us.’
‘Shit. We need to call the police,’ Aiden says. ‘How do we convince them she’s in danger, though? Don’t forget Spencer has already been charged with Jessie’s murder.’
Jake grabs Dana’s mobile. ‘What are you doing?’ she asks.
‘Calling her. I’ll say you’ve been taken ill, that she needs to come home straight away.’
‘And if she doesn’t pick up?’
Jake shrugs. ‘I don’t know. But he’s been seeing her for a while without making a move. With any luck, Lori will be OK.’
Dana drags air into lungs that must have shrunk several sizes, so tight is her chest. She curses herself for not asking which pub Lori was heading to, but maybe Jake’s right, Dana tries to reassure herself. Maybe tonight’s not the night Ross has chosen to murder her daughter.
‘This is my fault,’ she says. ‘I was too wrapped up in my own pain after Jessie’s death. If I’d talked more to Lori, I might have found out sooner she was dating Ross. But I didn’t.’
Jake doesn’t reply, his ear pressed against Dana’s mobile. After several seconds, during which time Dana’s nerves shred into confetti, Jake shakes his head.
‘No reply,’ he says.
‘Give me that phone,’ she demands. Time to call the police.
Ten minutes later, Dana hurls her mobile onto the sofa. ‘DC Campbell says there’s nothing they can do.’
Anger flushes Aiden’s face. ‘Why the hell not?’ he demands.
‘She says it’s too soon to declare her missing. Told me if they’re in a public place, it’s unlikely she’ll come to any harm. Bottom line was: she didn’t believe me about Ross killing Jessie. Reminded me twice Spencer’s been charged for her death.’
‘Christ,’ Aiden says. ‘What the hell do we do now? I’d offer to go look for her. But we haven’t a clue where she’s gone.’
‘Oh, my God.’ Dana’s mouth drops open in shock. ‘I’ve been so unbelievably stupid. How on earth could I have forgotten? I know how we can find Lori.’
Aiden’s breath rattles as he drives, forcing a frantic one-handed search for his inhaler. Lousy timing for an asthma attack; he can’t, he won’t have one now. He inhales deeply, easing the pressure in his chest. Please, God, let him get to Lori in time. An only child all his life, his sister has filled a hole he never knew existed. Besides, if she dies, Dana, at home being supported by Jake, will be shattered. He can’t let either of them down.
Focus, he tells himself. This stretch of road is unfamiliar, being out of town; what’s more, it’s narrow, unlit and the traffic is sparse. He cruises for a couple of miles, his eyes searching, his ears attuned to the voice from his sat nav that’s leading him to Lori’s phone. Pinpointed by the GPS tracking app installed on it at Fraser’s insistence after Jessie’s murder. A minute more, and a sign for an industrial estate appears on his left. Robotic tones from his dashboard inform him he’s reached his destination.
Aiden slams on his brakes, twisting the wheel sharply, steering his Golf onto the forecourt, straining his eyes in the gloom. The place is large, an ancient ‘For Sale’ sign nailed above the roller entrance to his left. To his right is the main door. Several windows in the warehouse are smashed; an air of neglect cloaks the place like a shroud. No lights are on; no sounds reach his ears. In front of the unit is a dark-coloured Audi. A vehicle that shouldn’t be here, given the place appears long disused.
Aiden gets out of his car, approaching the main door. His heart hammering in his chest, he drags lungfuls of the frigid night air into his body, trying to ignore how tight his chest feels. He draws heavily on his inhaler again. Meanwhile, he lays plans. He’s no brawler, but he’s fit from running; he’s capable of putting up a damn good fight against this prick. He’ll sneak into the warehouse, arm himself with anything suitable, then find Lori.
In front of the door he stops, reaching towards the handle.
Thank God it opens without making a noise. Aiden pads inside, keen to be as quiet as possible. His ears strain to pick up any sounds from within the warehouse. He’s in a hallway, the start of a corridor running the width of the building. To his right is a door, its top half glass. Through it he can see, from the moonlight filtering into the room, a big open-plan space, now empty. No sign of Lori. It seems he needs to explore the rest of the building.
He daren’t switch on a light, so he edges along the corridor, his only guide a sliver of moonlight shining through the main doorway. His hands maintain contact with the wall to ensure he keeps going straight.
It’s a long corridor, and the moonlight grows fainter as he edges his way along. Ahead is a flight of stairs leading down towards a right-hand turn, the bottom of the stairwell too dark to see. Aiden’s left foot descends, slowly, carefully, onto wood. He presses against the wall, betting that if any treads are creaky, they’re likely to be in the middle. So far, so good, but he could use a little light. His vision is now almost zero, his progress reliant on the gradual one, two of his feet on the stairs. Before long his fingers detect he’s reached the turn in the staircase, forcing him to angle his body through ninety degrees so he can descend the rest of the way. Once he finds the first step, his world turns black. Claustrophobia kicks in as the darkness wraps around him. He forces himself to slow his breathing, measuring each inhalation and exhalation. In, out. Then he remembers he has his mobile in his pocket along with Dana’s, hers brought because its app can trace Lori through the identical one on her phone. He fumbles for both of them, switching on their torch functions. Then he inches along the wall until he reaches the first door. Aiden’s fingers close over the handle, then test it. It’s locked. He listens for sounds, but there’s nothing.
Time to move on. The corridor seems never ending; more doors, more false hope. All
of them are locked. In the continuing silence, Aiden stops and listens, holding his breath.
Then he hears something. Too low a sound to distinguish. But whatever it is, the noise comes from close by. Aiden inches along the corridor, his fingers encountering the glossy ridge of the next door frame, where he pauses. More sounds. Voices, he decides, although they’re muffled. He edges along to the next door, where he stops, holding his breath, his ears on red alert.
Yes.
Someone is in there.
Then he hears a male voice. Followed by Lori’s. Aiden releases the breath he hasn’t realised he’s been holding. Thank God he’s found her. She sounds OK, but scared. He almost bursts through the door then and there, but decides against the idea. It’s better that he waits, because while she’s still talking with her abductor, she’ll be all right. Instead, he’ll listen, while gathering evidence for the police. His fingers work over both mobiles, starting the recording function on each one, praying they’ll be sensitive enough to pick up the conversation. The door is slightly ajar, which will help. He clutches its handle, ready for when he needs to make his move. Then he presses his ear close to the crack and listens.
What he hears horrifies him. Fury pools in Aiden’s gut, rises upwards, so thick it nearly chokes him. Especially when he hears the slaps, followed by Lori’s gasps of pain. In those moments it takes every last drop of self-control he possesses not to burst through the door.
It’s good, though, this rage. He’s pumped up, prepared. Almost time to take this bastard down.
We’re going to have fun tonight. Or at least I am. Ryan’s words reverberate through Lori’s brain and she shivers, the terror in her belly increasing tenfold. She forces herself to speak. If she’s going to die, she needs to understand the reason.
‘Why?’ she asks. ‘Why are you doing this?’
A grin tweaks the corners of his mouth. ‘Ah, the big raison d’être. Jessie asked me the same thing. Over and over.’
The urge to punch him surges through Lori. ‘You bastard,’ she says. Without thinking, she spits in his face.
Without hesitation, his hand cracks across her again, whiplashing her head against her shoulder. Pain flares through her face. ‘That was stupid of you,’ he says, wiping his cheek. Their eyes lock; hatred in Lori’s, a vicious glare in his. Her revulsion is so strong she can almost taste it. Her eyes roam to the telephone cord, measuring the distance between it and her, assessing how close the bastard’s standing to her. Too near to make an attempt feasible. Although if she’s quick, gets off a swift kick in his face first . . .
‘Wish I could have been there. When your saintly mother found out her precious daughter was dead.’
‘Who are you? Is your name really Ryan Brooks?’
He smiles, a wolfish leer, before shaking his head. ‘No,’ he replies.
‘What about all the other stuff? About me meeting your parents, moving in together? Your job at the building firm, your mother having kidney problems? That was all lies?’
He grins, cruelty in every line of his mouth. ‘Every word.’
She stares at him, trying to get the measure of this man. ‘Was any of it real? Anything at all?’
He shakes his head. ‘Nope.’
‘What about Aiden? The assault allegations? Your mate in the police force?’
His mouth twists into a sneer. ‘There’s zero chance I’d be pally with a copper. All part of the fun, stringing you along.’
The extent of his deception floors her. So Aiden isn’t a rapist, or an arsonist. Nor did he kill Jessie. ‘Why do you loathe my mother so much?’
‘Because the bitch stole what’s rightfully mine.’
‘What are you talking about?’
He ignores her question. ‘She doesn’t have a clue, does she? About me, I mean. Not yet, anyway. She will, in time. I’m moving closer to her, Lori. First Jessie. Now you. Soon Aiden Scott will follow, now he’s back in her life. Eventually it’ll be Dana’s turn.’ He inches closer, so near his breath fans her nostrils. It’s as though evil itself is staring into her face.
‘Go to hell,’ she spits out from behind clenched teeth. ‘I hope you rot there. You’re nothing but a sick fucking weirdo.’
For the third time, he hits her, this blow the hardest of all, splitting Lori’s bottom lip. Her tongue explores, tastes the coppery tang of blood. The fury in Ryan’s expression sickens and terrifies her. When he speaks, his voice is like iron. ‘You deserved that, bitch. Nobody calls me names and gets away with it.’
Lori closes her eyes, blanking out the malevolence in his face. Dana Golden has suffered too many body blows recently. The loss of her remaining daughter will finish her off, and with that Lori realises she has to live, because there’s more than her own life at stake. Get him talking, she decides. Let him glory in telling her what happened with Jessie. While his attention’s elsewhere, she’ll make her move.
‘You’re a pervert,’ she says. ‘You groomed a teenage girl.’
He laughs. ‘Wasn’t hard. She was desperate to rebel, found the idea of a secret older boyfriend thrilling.’
‘Why Mum’s house?’ she says.
He grins. ‘A nice touch, don’t you think?’
Lori closes her eyes. The extent of Ryan’s planning, how he plotted every step of Jessie’s death, terrifies her. Anguish at her sister’s suffering sweeps over her. Soon, she promises herself. In the next minute or so, she’ll kick the hell out of this bastard.
‘We had fun in the basement, me and her. Took her knickers as a souvenir,’ Ryan continues. ‘Then I went to that faggot bar, chatted up Spencer and brought him back. Neat, don’t you think? I got the idea from Jessie.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘She told me he sometimes went to Murray’s, how he’d take a key to the rental property in case he hooked up. Got her to tell me when he was next planning a trip there. Told her I’d get her home well before whatever time he might turn up. The rest was easy.’
‘You used Jessie to incriminate Spencer for her murder.’
He laughs. ‘Don’t you love the symmetry of that? Slipped some ketamine into his drink, then planted the scratches on his back with Jessie’s nails.’
‘As well as setting a fire to cover your tracks. You bastard.’ Anger flares in Lori. ‘You should have done it in the basement, where you killed her. Not the ground floor. Stupid of you.’
He shrugs. ‘I’d planted evidence down there, you dumb bitch. Didn’t want all my hard work to get burned before the fire crews doused the blaze.’
‘You started those other fires too. The one at Granddad’s house, Mum’s other rental properties. You’re a fucking arsonist on top of everything else.’
His grin widens. ‘Yup.’
What had that psychologist on television said? Something about how whoever was responsible for the arson attacks plaguing Bristol may also have killed Jessie.
‘You set all the other fires around Bristol too,’ she says. ‘Didn’t you?’
He doesn’t reply at first, but his grin is evil. Then: ‘You bet I did. Every last one of them. I’m quite the bad boy, Lori. You want to know the best bit, besides topping your sister?’
Lori stays silent. He’s going to tell her, whatever she says.
‘I’ve been away for a long time. Didn’t realise Dana’s kidneys had got screwed up. The icing on the cake? Finding out I’d snuffed out her chance of a transplant. How our sweet Jessie was to have saved her.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asks. ‘“Been away for a long time?” Who are you?’
He smiles at her. ‘You don’t have a clue, do you?’
She doesn’t. Bewildered, Lori stares at him.
‘You should,’ he says. ‘You’ve been looking for me long enough.’
Chapter 21
RESCUE
Incomprehension floods Lori’s brain. What the hell is he on about? She’s only been searching for one person, and it’s not him but her missing uncle, and . . . oh, shit. Imp
ossible. It can’t be.
Her thoughts must be showing in her face, because he laughs. ‘Starting to get the picture, are you, Lori, my sweet?’
Revulsion causes her to shrink back against the wall. ‘No,’ she whispers. ‘You’re not my uncle.’ Disbelief in her words, even though, deep down, she knows the man standing before her isn’t lying anymore.
‘But I am.’ His tone is mocking, contemptuous.
Her denial remains strong. ‘No. You can’t be. We’ve slept together, for God’s sake. How the hell can I be your niece?’
He laughs. ‘Made it all the sweeter, babe. Nice.’ He draws out the last word, a smirk on his lips, and the revulsion within Lori swells further. Small wonder Dana didn’t want Lori to search for her uncle. If her flesh could crawl off her bones and make a run for it, it would. She’s not sure she’ll ever feel clean again.
‘But why?’ she pleads.
‘I saw your Facebook post,’ he says. ‘The first one. Couldn’t believe what I was reading. Got me thinking it was high time your mother got what she deserved.’
‘For what?’ Lori’s screaming now, not caring whether he hits her again.
Rage creeps into his expression. ‘She stole what was mine. All Dad’s money, his rental properties. Half should have gone to me when he died. But no, the bitch had already soured him against me. So I decided to get even. I’ve always hated the po-faced hag.’ He laughs. ‘Did she like those cards I sent her?’
Lori’s puzzled by something. ‘Why did you date me?’ Once the words are out of her mouth, she realises it sounds a strange question. ‘You only met Jessie a couple of times before killing her. Why string me along, fake a relationship, these past weeks?’
He squats in front of her, an icy smile on his face. ‘You can’t guess?’
She stares at his soulless eyes, as if searching for answers there. When she fails to reply, his grin widens.
‘At first I did it to work out how best to hurt her,’ he says. ‘Then it became fun. Addictive, almost. Such a buzz, playing the perfect boyfriend, while all the time I was yanking your chain. People believe what they want to, and you – you’re as gullible as they come. You even fell for that phony Facebook message I sent. The fact you blabbed to Dana meant I’ve had to bring forward my plans to kill you, but that’s no bad thing.’ He snorts in derision. ‘As if I’d ever donate a kidney to that bitch. Hell, I wouldn’t give her my last drop of piss. When you told me she’d attempted to kill herself, I laughed my head off. Sweet.’