by Leah Murray
He held her tight, pulled her hands behind her back with one of his as he shoved Laura backwards. She fell against the wall, cutting a deep gash above her eye. She lifted her hand to the cut, brought it back down, saw the blood and looked back up at Jo. `I don’t understand,’ she said, her skin pale, eyes wide with shock. `Why?’
Jack laughed. `Why? Because you knew Jo, because she’d never guess I was so close to her. We have a little unfinished business, don’t we Jo?’
Jo started shaking, she couldn’t help it. The tremors raced through her body. Oh God, this couldn’t be happening, it simply couldn’t.
Laura finally seemed to realize what was going on and pushed herself upright, started towards the kitchen. `I’m calling the police.’
Jo wasn’t quite sure what happened next, it was so fast. One minute Jack was holding her hands behind her back, the next he’d let go and she fell forwards onto the carpet. There was a loud shot and Laura slid down the wall, stared down at her chest, saw the red pool suddenly forming there and looked back up, bewildered.
`No!’ Jo screamed, tried to scramble up from the floor, felt him yank her hair and pull her upwards. Then there was a sudden sharp pain at the side of her head as the world faded into black.
CHAPTER 33
`THERE MUST BE SOMETHING. THE woman is the key, that’s how he’s managed to hide, he’s using her as a cover, a source of information.’ Shaun said, raking his hands through his hair. `Are you sure you can’t recognize her? How about going through the photos again. Maybe there’ll be some clue there,’ he continued.
Will sighed, reached for the folder and emptied the photos back on the desk, started leafing through them.
The farm, the pub, Jo’s house, the surgery.
The surgery.
He picked up the photo, wondered what it was that had caught his attention. He looked closer.
There was the front of the surgery, Ian’s Jeep to the side, Laura’s red Peugeot, but there was nobody in the shot. About to throw the photo back down with the rest of the pile, he paused and an ice-cold chill ran down his back.
Laura was in her car, she had her head turned. And suddenly he knew with a deadly certainty that it was her that he had seen at the dance.
Phyllis would have got her an invite.
`Holy Fuck. It’s Laura,’ he said, jumping up.
Shaun looked up. `What?’
`The photo. There. See? She’s in her car. It was her at the dance. That’s why he used the darts on the dogs, he was so damn sure of himself he even gave us a goddamn clue. She’d know my number, she’d know when Jo was working or not, she’d be in the surgery and able to overhear any damn conversation Jo had. Jesus Christ. The day he ran Hayley down, Laura had been dropped off. It must have been him.’
He paused. `Fuck, Shaun, she’s there now.’
Shaun stood up but Will was already out the door.
He jumped into the Land Rover, reversed out the park and drove to the surgery with his foot flat. Squealing into the car park, he jumped out, didn’t even bother to close the car door or switch off the engine.
`Jo? Are you here?’ he shouted, racing into the surgery.
Ian appeared from the back room, tailed by Mrs. Reynolds.
`Will, what’s wrong?’ he asked, frowning in concern.
`Jo? Is she here?’
`Yes, she was here …’ Ian broke off, looked at the key rack. `My keys are gone. She must have gone out. I’m sure it will only have been for a second. She’ll be back soon. Why don’t you sit down and wait?’
`Jesus.’
Will raced out the door.
Laura’s. He’d somehow lured her to Laura’s. It was the only place that wasn’t watched.
Goddammit, she’d promised him she wouldn’t go out alone.
He pulled up outside the flat, saw the Jeep and prayed he wasn’t too late. Watchful, every nerve alert, very aware he had no goddamn weapon, he started up to the flat, stopped outside the door and listened.
Silence.
He pushed at the door, choked down the worry as it swung open and he stepped inside. His stomach clenched as he saw Laura near the far wall, the front of her shirt spattered with blood. Her eyes were closed and she wasn’t moving.
He crouched down, felt for a pulse, relieved to feel the faint pumping under his fingers.
But dear God, where was Jo?
He started down the passage, kicked open the doors to the bedroom, the bathroom.
No sign of her.
He punched a hole through the bedroom door, covered his face with his hands and took several deep breaths.
Forcing himself to calm down, he flipped open the mobile and called Shaun, organized an ambulance for Laura, went back into the lounge.
Fuck, he couldn’t wait. He needed to find Jo.
His fear grew by the minute, the images of what that bastard had done to Christine hammering at him.
He rubbed at his temple. Where to?
Think damn it. Think.
Jo came to with a hammering in her head.
She was cold. And her throat was dry.
She tried to move, found she couldn’t, and her heart gave a panicked kick as she remembered what had happened. She shook her head, tried to focus.
Gasped in shock as a sudden rush of cold water poured from her hair, ran into her eyes and down her cheeks.
She spluttered, spat it out.
There was someone laughing.
She tried to concentrate.
Her hands were tied. Behind her back.
She was sitting. Oh God, she couldn’t move her legs.
It was dark.
There was something scratching against her cheekbone, a roughness against her eyelids as she tried to open them.
A blindfold.
Oh God. No.
`Ah, Jo. It’s so good to see you again.’
His voice was cold against her ear, mocking, and she flinched, tried to move away, felt his hand on her shoulder and started trembling.
She could smell him. His cologne.
Mixed with the rank smell of her own fear.
She was sweating.
He trailed his hand down her arm, and she flinched away, swallowed, tried to find her voice.
Then his hand was on her breast and he squeezed and she screamed as she felt the cold metal of the knife at her throat, the sudden sting, the warmth of her blood trickling, slowly at first, then faster.
And her scream was echoing and he was laughing and she tried to throw herself backwards, overbalance the chair, force her hands upwards, burnt herself against the rope, twisting, turning.
But she couldn’t break free.
She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t see.
Oh God.
And still he was laughing.
There was another sting, another cut, she struggled but he held her down, his hands forcing her shoulders backwards as he sliced a line near her collarbone, the searing pain, the smell.
She could taste her blood.
He ripped her shirt with the knife and her world turned black. Black and red. A nightmare. It was happening again. His hands were on her, his laughter loud as he ripped off her bra.
She felt his hands on her thighs and something inside her died.
Her heart stopped, the ringing in her ears stopped. The echoing laughter stopped.
There was nothing now except white. White and calm.
Peace.
She was lost somewhere inside herself, somewhere he couldn’t find her, couldn’t hurt her, a place where the terror and pain couldn’t follow her.
`Goddammit Shaun, where would he take her?’
Shaun emptied the photos on the desk.
`Look carefully, there’ll be a clue here. He’s been toying with us all along. He’s been planning this from day one, there must be some hint in these photographs.’
`I don’t have time to look at fucking photos. He has her Shaun.’
He heard the choked sound of his voice, cleared h
is throat, was grateful Shaun simply squeezed his shoulder before spreading the photos over the desk.
`We’ll find her,’ he said.
Will stared unseeing at the photos, couldn’t stand still, didn’t know where to go, what to do. His rage was mad, rushing through him, searching desperately for an outlet.
`Got it. Damn, why didn’t we see it before?’ Shaun said, tapping his finger on a photo and Will blinked, tried to focus.
`Christine?’
Shaun nodded. `Yes, think about it. Why Christine? What was she to him? Why take her to the island? Why not simply kill her in the street or in her house?’
Will took a deep breath. `Because he wanted to make her suffer first. He needed the quiet of the island to prolong it.’
Shaun nodded. `Exactly. And the coroner’s report has shown he tortured her Will. The earliest cuts on her body occurred three hours prior to the last one, the one that finally ended her ordeal. So you have to ask, why three hours?’
`Because he’s a fucking psycho, he gets off on it.’
Shaun shook his head. `To a degree, yes, probably. But there’s more to it. Rape is a power crime. This is about control and revenge.’
He looked up, grim. `She was a trial run for Jo.’
`Oh Jesus.’
Shaun picked up the phone. `We’ll get the launch –‘
Will didn’t hear anymore. He was out the door and running.
She was cold again. Very cold.
She wasn’t tied up anymore, she could move her arms and her legs but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to do anything except die.
She wanted it to be over.
She was cut, she was bleeding, she was on the floor and he was rubbing himself over her, the knife was at her throat, but all she felt was numb. It just didn’t matter anymore.
He’d ripped her skirt now too and she was almost naked. But she didn’t care. She was remembering the barbecue at Will’s house, the way he’d kissed her and she’d tried to hide the stupid grin. The day at the falls when he’d given her the ring and earrings. The day he said he loved her for the first time. The night in the bath when she’s finally known that what he felt for her was real. That he’d do anything for her.
The tears came then, hot and angry as she remembered the way he’d looked at her just that morning, when she’d promised him she’d be okay. She started struggling again. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want this to happen again. She wouldn’t let Jack take Will from her, wipe away his memory with something sordid and dirty.
He was surprised by her struggles, became rougher. Stopped toying with her and dropped the knife, forced her hands behind her head, his fingers prying her thighs apart as she twisted and squirmed and fought against him.
He slapped her, pushed himself against her and she felt the hardness of him through his jeans, squirmed away.
The sound of him pulling the zip down increased her panicked strength and she tore a hand free, clawed at his face with her nails, screamed again as he forced her hand back behind her head and bit down on a breast. The pain was overwhelming.
Then his weight was off her.
There was the sound of bone cracking against bone, a sudden crash as something heavy fell against the wall, the sharp hiss of breath being forced out of a body.
Not quite able to believe it, the sound of her blood flooding loud in her ears, she pushed herself into a sitting position, tried to see through the spinning in her head, her vision blurred. She was faint, nauseous, everything was rocking.
She saw Will, tried to call out as she saw Jack pick himself up and punch, shoving Will back against the wall.
But there was a rushing in her head now that made it hard to sit, hard to see. The world seemed far away, hidden at the end of a long black tunnel.
She shook her head, looked back down the tunnel, wavering, battling to stay upright. A silent scream speared her throat as she watched Jack pick up the knife, lunge at Will, stab the knife at his chest.
There was blood.
Will’s blood.
And Will was falling.
She fought her way back through the haze of pain and dizziness, crawled onto her knees, tried to get to Will.
But she fell flat, felt herself being dragged backwards, screamed again as she realized Jack had her.
Then his arm was round her throat and the cold tip of the knife pierced her skin again and she started crying, the pain was unbearable. Her head rolled and she felt herself falling but willed herself to concentrate.
Will was back on his feet, staring at Jack. He was talking but she couldn’t hear his words, all she could see were his eyes and they were angry, so angry, she was scared.
But Jack was laughing and his arm tightened round her neck and suddenly she couldn’t breathe and a white gray mist blurred her vision again. She couldn’t stand upright, sagged against Jack.
Then Will was there.
Jack fell backwards, she sprawled on the floor, managed to push herself up again.
The nausea was overwhelming now and she could hear the strange gurgling sounds she was making with each breath. Her head was spinning.
She forced her eyes open.
Will was on the floor, holding the knife by the blade inches from his chest as Jack pushed down on it. Will’s hands were shaking and they were red with his blood and she tried to scream again but no sound came out.
Will rolled away, was fighting Jack for the knife, and Jack lunged at him again, they twisted, both gripping the handle of the knife.
Will wrenched it free, stabbed down hard and Jack was on the floor and he wasn’t moving and Will was at her side, she could see his lips moving but she couldn’t hear what he was saying.
She tried to raise a hand, tried to answer him, but the mist was everywhere, thick, pulsing, and it grew thicker and she tried to fight her way through it but couldn’t.
There was nothing but black.
Will swore as Jo passed out; he could tell by the number of gashes around her upper body that she had lost a lot of blood. The dried dark red stain of it against her breasts was an image that would haunt him forever.
He bent, tried to pick her up, crumpled with the sudden pain in his bicep.
Fuck.
Clenching his jaw, he shifted the bulk of her weight to his other arm, picked her up again.
Standing, holding her in his arms, he took a deep breath, forced himself to ignore the pain in his chest and hands and start walking. Each step was agony and he almost dropped her twice, couldn’t stop the desperate sob of relief as he saw Shaun, followed closely by Rob and Cherie.
Someone reached for Jo and he tried to pull away but he didn’t have any strength left, could only watch, breathing heavily, as Rob carried her down the last few yards to the launch.
Someone was talking at him.
He shook his head. Saw Shaun.
`What?’ he asked, his voice suddenly loud in his head.
`I said where’s Jack?’ Shaun replied.
`Oh. In … in the cabin,’ Will managed, sat down, stuck his head between his knees, tried to steady his breathing.
Cherie came over to him, started cleaning the wound on his chest. It stung but he barely noticed. All he could see was Rob bent over Jo. He stuck a tube down her throat, IV lines into her body. Reached into a bag and administered some sort of injection. Her body twitched. Once. Twice.
But she didn’t stir.
And Will turned away, he couldn’t bear to look.
He couldn’t watch her die.
Not the way he’d seen Mike die. And Cam. And Jamie.
Angry again, he shoved Cherie away, didn’t notice the pain in his hands, stared blindly at the grass, felt the emptiness inside him expand.
He was too late.
CHAPTER 34
`WILL? SHAUN ONLY PHONED ME a half hour ago. Tell me what happened. Where is she? Is she okay?’
He looked up, saw Julia, shook his head, couldn’t bring himself to speak.
`I don’t know,’ he said, finally finding his voice. `They took her into surgery an hour ago, said she’d lost a lot of blood, that it was touch and go. If she hadn’t been airlifted here she … ‘he broke off, cleared his throat, `they don’t think she’d have made it otherwise.’
`And what happened to you?’
He glanced down, saw he was still wearing his torn shirt. `I’m fine. But Jo. Hell Jules, even now they’re not sure –’his voice broke.
`Oh God. Hey, come here.’
She sat down next to him, drew him into a hug and he let her.
He was numb. He hadn’t even realized he’d flown in a helicopter for the first time in three years until a few moments ago. He’d been mad with grief and his own wound had needed stitching so he’d been flown with her. Though he’d never have let them leave without him anyway. He pulled away from Julia, stood, started pacing. It was the waiting that was the worst, the not knowing.
He wavered between euphoria and despair, recognized the feeling from after the accident and rubbed at his temple, clenched his fists to stop the trembling. No. He wasn’t going to break. Not now.
`Will Fletcher?’
He turned, saw the doctor with the surgical mask around his neck and hesitated before nodding, prepared himself for the worst.
`Yes. How is she?’
`The surgery went well but she’s not out of the woods yet. What she needs now is rest.’
The tension eased a bit.
`Can I see her?’
`Yes, she’s sedated and asleep but you’re welcome to wait in the room. It’s the third on the right, down the hall,’ the doctor said, indicating, and Will nodded, thanked him, strode off down the hall followed by Julia.
`Oh Jesus.’
The sight of her with all the tubes and drips and monitoring equipment was almost too much to bear.
But she was alive. That was the important thing.
He sat by the bed, grabbed her hand and held it. Her eyes were closed but she looked peaceful, her breathing was even now, calmer.
He looked up at Julia, saw her flinch.
`What?’ he asked, frowning.
`How many … well, I don’t know what to call them … cuts? Stab wounds? How many does she have?’
`I didn’t count. There were three bad ones, all of them near her neck where he … Bastard.’