by Anita Waller
Captor
Anita Waller
Copyright © 2018 Anita Wallers
The right of Anita Waller * to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2018 by Bloodhound Books
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.bloodhoundbooks.com
Contents
Also by Anita Waller
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Epilogue
A Note From Bloodhound Books
Beautiful
Angel
Winterscroft
34 Days
Strategy
Acknowledgments
Also by Anita Waller
Beautiful
Angel
Winterscroft
* * *
34 Days
Strategy - The gripping sequel to 34 Days
Praise for Anita Waller
"This is a dark domestic chiller that gradually creeps under your skin until the very shocking and unexpected climax." Joanne Robertson - My Chestnut Reading Tree
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"An excellent suspense filled read, and I'm looking forward to reading the sequel, Strategy." Mark Tilbury - Author
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"Oh my goodness this book gripped me! I sat and read this book in one sitting over the weekend and honestly, I really didn't want to put it down..." Donna Maguire - Donnas Book Blog
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"The story is well versed and the characters kept me intrigued throughout." Louise Mullins - Author
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"Stunning, brilliant, gripping, heart breaking and touching!" Misfits Farm - Goodreads Reviewer
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"My God ...this story is heart breaking yet such a pageturner...There are secrets...lies..betrayal ..murder... And a darkness ...so terrifying.... that lurks almost invisible." Livia Sbarbaro - Goodreads Reviewer
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"Beware: when you pick up the book you won’t be able to let it go before you have reached the final chapter." Caroline Vincent - Bits About Books
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"A brilliant follow on book from Beautiful . Kept me guessing until the end." Angela Lockwood - Goodreads Reviewer
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"It certainly had me on the edge of my seat and the author is certainly making a name for herself in the psychological genre." Sarah Hardy - By The Letter Book Reviews
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"This book scared the daylights out of me and I mean that in the best way possible." Amy Sullivan - Novelgossip
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"The author writes well, weaving the story and sucking the reader into the lives of the characters within the book." Rebecca Burnton - If Only I Could Read Faster
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"This is book has all the elements needed to make it creepy, read-through-your-fingers-at-times kind of read. There is spooky suspense on every page." M.A. Comley - New York Times and USA Today best-selling author
For the Huddersfield-based side of our family:
Matt, Richelle, Katie, Melissa
and our first great-grandchild, Lily Grace.
You light up our lives.
Yes, yours, my love, is the right human face.
I in my mind had waited for this long,
Seeing the false and searching for the true,
Then found you as a traveller finds a place
Of welcome suddenly amid the wrong
Valleys and rocks and twisting roads. But you,
What shall I call you? A fountain in a waste,
A well of water in a country dry,
Or anything that’s honest and good, an eye
That makes the whole world bright. Your open heart,
Simple with giving, gives the primal deed,
The first good world, the blossom, the blowing seed,
The hearth, the steadfast land, the wandering sea,
Not beautiful or rare in every part,
But like yourself, as they were meant to be.
* * *
THE CONFIRMATION by Edwin Muir
15 May 1887 – 3 January 1959
Prologue
7 September 2014
The Coffee and Cream Café was quiet; two customers were seated at a table at the far side of the room, and they appeared to be deep in conversation, oblivious to anything happening around them. They were certainly unaware of Phil Latimer and Liz Chambers, holding hands across their table, enjoying the moment.
The waitress arrived, bearing a pot of tea and two cups and saucers with the tiniest jug of milk, all emblazoned with the name Coffee and Cream.
The couple released hands and Liz smiled at Phil. ‘Maybe we’ll have to go and milk a cow to get any more.’
He responded with a smile of his own, although he suspected he wouldn’t be smiling for long. For the first time, the atmosphere between them felt… strained.
‘You said we needed to talk?’
She hesitated, and bit her bottom lip. It was the glance down towards the table that told him this really wasn’t going to be good. Her blonde hair fell forward, hiding her eyes.
‘We do. I’m so sorry, Phil, but I can’t see you anymore. So, so sorry…’
He put his fingers underneath her chin and lifted her head. Gently he pushed back the blonde hair he loved so much. Keeping his eyes on her face, he saw that her blue eyes were brimming with tears.
‘But it’s only a week since we sat at this same table and spoke of our love,’ he said softly. ‘That can’t have changed – at least, with me it hasn’t.’
She reached across the table and clutched his hand. ‘And it hasn’t changed for me, either. But there’s a complication.’
‘Gareth is coming home.’ Phil could hear the flatness in his voice as he spoke the words. Her husband had been away for six weeks in Ireland and they had enjoyed the freedom of being able to meet without having to invent excuses for being away from their respective partner
s. In his case, he doubted that Rosie would be bothered anyway, but he knew that prior to their meeting and falling in love, Gareth had been the centre of Liz’s life, along with Daniel, their fifteen-year-old son.
‘That’s not the complication. The complication is that I am five weeks pregnant.’
There was silence between them, while he allowed what she had said to take root in his brain.
‘You’re sure?’
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
‘And if you’re five weeks…’
She had to speak. ‘It’s yours.’
He put down the cup he had been holding almost as a comforter, and leaned back in his chair.
‘And we can’t be together? You’re telling me that I not only lose you, the absolute love of my life, but another man is going to be bringing up my child?’
‘Phil, please try and understand. I can’t hurt Gareth and Dan, I really can’t. But you know it’s mainly Dan. If there were only Gareth, you and I would probably already be together. I know I don’t talk much about Gareth, but the situation between us is a little how you’ve described yours with Rosie. And then there’s my job. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am at Banton and Hardwick to give it up. I’ll have the baby, and I’ll be going back to work after my maternity leave. But, what is of more importance is that I would lose my job. You’re my client, Phil, my client, for God’s sake!’ And then she did cry.
He stood and moved his chair so that he was by her side. He pulled her close, and let the tears flow.
‘We were stupid?’ he said eventually.
She wiped her eyes and looked at him. ‘Stupid?’
‘We’re old enough to know how to prevent conception, aren’t we?’
‘You know I’m on the pill, but I took antibiotics for that damned ear infection. I’m so sorry, Phil, it’s all my fault. We weren’t stupid, I was.’
He sighed. ‘I don’t want to be without you. This has been the best six months of my life, knowing you were part of it. Please don’t stop that, Liz, I’m begging you.’
‘I have no choice. I’m going. Your case at work is almost completed, we have the final settlement figure, so there’s no reason for us to be in contact. I love you, Phil, always will, but we can’t be together. You know we can’t. Maybe if there had been no baby, in five years things would have been different, but…’
He stood, as she turned to walk away, aware that the other two customers were now watching their every move.
‘I’ll respect that,’ he said softly, ‘even though I don’t agree with it. But remember this always, Liz; if ever the situation at home changes, or your job is no longer an issue – in fact, any damn thing – ring me using our phones. I’ll come and get you, no questions asked, and with exactly the same amount of love in my heart.’
* * *
She turned as she reached the door, mouthed I love you and walked out of his life, knowing exactly what she was giving up.
1
It comes at too high a price, having a baby, Liz decided. How do you hide the tears from fellow travellers as you remember his little face, now turned to his new, first day child-minder, happily smiling with no intentions of missing you at all?
She was aching for him, this unplanned child. It hadn’t seemed so bad when she had taken him to meet Sadie Fremantle, to see if they bonded; Liz was only doing a bit of forward planning. Sadie was a single mum of thirty-nine with a twenty-year-old son, Christian, at Solent University, and she had taken the decision to become a registered childminder to bring in extra funding to supplement the money she earned auditing books from home.
Liz still had three months of maternity leave left; she was simply making tentative enquiries. Those enquiries had morphed into an afternoon every week while baby Jacob learned to know the woman who would be his surrogate parent. Liz had also taken Gareth to meet Sadie a couple of times, to get his views on the woman who would have such a massive influence on their baby son’s early years, and Gareth had agreed with her choice.
And then reality hit, the tentative enquiries were well in the past, and she was to return to work.
Banton and Hardwick, solicitors in Sheffield’s city centre, valued her. She wished they didn’t. She didn’t want to leave Jake with Sadie, she wanted to be there when he took his first step, got his first tooth, (which, at nine months and with no sign of a small white nub in his gums, was beginning to feel unlikely), spoke his first word; hence the tears as the tram took her ever further into the heart of the city on that cold January morning.
A couple of people spoke to her and asked if she was okay; she dabbed away the tears with a screwed-up piece of tissue and said she was fine.
Liz exited the tram outside the cathedral and crossed Fargate to nip into Boots for more tissues. She thought she might need them.
She headed down through Paradise Square and came to the imposing steps leading up to her place of work.
Liz felt wobbly. She had last walked down those steps only two weeks away from giving birth, with Gareth waiting in the car, hazards flashing as he was parked illegally. She had been carrying armfuls of presents. The practice employed many people, and although the two partners to whom she was attached had bought her the pram, every other member of staff had bought her an individual gift.
She took a deep breath and pushed thoughts of the last nine months to the back of her mind. She straightened her shoulders and climbed the steps.
No tears, Liz, she warned herself. Be professional. Jake is in good hands, you don’t need to worry. You’re a forty-year-old woman, successful career, full of confidence, life sorted. Be brave.
She didn’t know the receptionist, and the receptionist didn’t know her. Good start, Liz, she thought.
She introduced herself and Karen welcomed her with a smile.
‘It’s good to meet you, Mrs Chambers. I’m Karen Lee. Mr Banton said you would be returning this week. This is your ID tag,’ and she handed over Liz’s lanyard, complete with the new picture she had emailed to HR the week before.
‘Thank you, Karen, it’s good to meet you, too. How long have you been here?’
‘Three months. I came as a temp, but I’ve been taken on now.’
‘You like it?’
‘Very much so. And it’s a lot more secure than working for an agency.’
‘I’m sure,’ Liz said with a smile. ‘I worked for agencies at one point in my life…’ she shuddered. ‘Are Mr Banton and Mr Hardwick in?’
‘They are. I’ll let them know you’ve arrived.’ She pressed the intercom button and then whispered to Liz, ‘I think they’re excited to have you back.’
Liz laughed and headed for the door to the executive offices. She waited until she heard the gentle click as Karen released the lock, then walked down the corridor to her room. It was an old building, and Tom Banton and Oliver Hardwick had kept it as separate offices, rather than knocking walls down to make it open-plan, filled with small dividing partitions.
She walked into her office, the room that connected directly with both Tom and Oliver’s rooms, and wanted to cry yet again.
Carefully positioned on her desk was a huge bouquet of yellow roses, and a pile of envelopes clearly containing cards. She put down her bag, took off her coat, and carried both to her small wardrobe; quickly ran a comb through her dark blonde hair, checked the miniscule amount of make-up she wore hadn’t disappeared altogether under the force of her tears, renewed her lipstick, and closed the wardrobe door.
Her first job every morning had always been to put on the percolator and to keep it running throughout the day. It had been replaced with a coffee machine of some magnificence. She hoped it came with an instruction manual.
Her desk phone buzzed once, and she moved to answer it. At least that hadn’t changed.
‘Tom,’ she said, and waited.
‘You’re early.’
‘Of course.’
‘I thought we agreed to your starting at ten instead of nine, t
o help with getting Jake to his childminder?’
‘We did.’
‘So…?’
‘I took that as “be here by ten”.’
‘You like the flowers?’
‘I love the flowers. Your idea?’
Tom Banton laughed. ‘No, Chloe’s idea. That’s what wives are for, isn’t it?’
‘I should have guessed.’
‘You should.’
‘So, did you want something?’
‘Black, no sugar, please.’
‘Wow! Are you under instructions?’
Tom sighed audibly. ‘I am. Chloe has given me an ultimatum. If I don’t lose weight on my own, she’s going to register me for a gym. And I think Oliver probably needs a coffee as well. We’ve missed you, Liz. We’ve had to make our own drinks.’