The Sacrifice

by Donna Collins

  Billy followed her gaze. “What are you looking at?”

  “I lied to George before.”

  “About what?”

  “About everything.”

  “Such as?”

  Eliza pressed her finger to her lips, and glanced over her shoulder. Still no George.

  “Hey?” Billy cupped her chin and turned her face to him. “Do you need a hospital, or a doctor?”

  “No.” Eliza lowered Billy’s hand away.

  “Then tell me what the hell happened.”

  “You’re going to think I’m mad when I tell you what I saw.”

  “I’m leaning that way already.” Billy sat back in the chair. He didn’t speak for several seconds. Finally, he said, “Try me.”

  Eliza took a deep breath and tried to stop the trembling in her fingertips. She clasped her hands and rubbed them together, the newfound warmth failing to add colour to her pale skin. “That man took me from the hospital…”

  “Yes, I already know that.”

  She glanced towards the back of the office. George still hadn’t made an appearance and there was no noise to suggest he lingered out of sight, eavesdropping. “A dead man attacked me. I know it sounds like I’m nuts, but Roman saved me.”

  “Roman? Who the hell is Roman?”

  Eliza hushed him again. Her eyes darted back towards the door, and only when she was sure George still wasn’t listening did she continue. “He’s the man who took me from the hospital.”

  Billy leaned forward again, only this time when he spoke, his voice was low and intended for her ears only. “A witness saw what happened. Your so-called hero is a killer.”

  “And a kidnapper.” Eliza looked down at her bare feet curled on the seat in front of her. “And I hope he’s nuts, too, because he said things I can’t possibly let myself believe are true.”

  “Like what? Do they involve our father?”

  Eliza looked up. Billy’s question shocked her. “Dad? Why would you ask that?”

  Billy dismissed her question. “Do you know where this Roman is now?”

  Eliza nodded.

  “Then I need to go get him.” Billy stood, but Eliza grabbed his hand.

  “I want to come with you.”

  “The only place you’re going is to the hospital.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No.”

  “I don’t feel safe here.”

  “I said no.”

  Eliza stood. Immediately, she wanted to lift her feet off the cold floor and sit back on the chair. “If you want to find him, then the only way is for me to show you where he is.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I’m not staying here on my own.”

  “You’re not on your own. George is here.”

  “I feel safer with you.”

  “Eliza, don’t start with me. Not now.” His lips tightened. “You don’t even have any shoes on.”

  “I’ll be in the car. I’ll be fine.”

  “But you’re hurt.”

  Eliza felt the dried blood. In a couple of hours the Shadow would come for her and that put Billy at risk. But what alternative did she have? To stay trapped in here with George? “I won’t stay here, Billy.”

  Billy ran his fingers through his hair. A defeated sigh escaped his lips, and he grabbed a second set of keys from his drawer. “Jesus Christ. I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Davis no longer needed sleep.

  He swallowed back the brandy he’d graciously poured himself, relaxed back into the armchair, and massaged his temples. From this distance, the fireplace provided a gentle heat, the flames erratic in their dance above the coals, that heat helping to soothe the headache this stressful day had caused.

  The ache had almost diminished when the telephone beside him rang. Davis answered it, unhappy that he couldn’t even have this single minute to himself, and listened intently as McKenzie informed him that Eliza had been found.

  “Are you sure? You lost her once already.” Davis sat forward, his headache a distant memory.

  “I’m sure.”

  “You have her now?”

  “No.”

  “Then where is she?”

  “She’s at the police station.”

  “The police station? What’s she doing there?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the message I received.”

  “And where is Holbrook?”

  “He appears to be off the grid. As expected, he never made it back to the cabin. One can only suppose the poison killed him in a remote and as-yet-undetected area.”

  Davis drummed his fingers on the arm of the leather chair. Although pleased to have Holbrook out of the picture for the immediate future, Eliza being at the police station potentially caused a whole heap of new problems. “Where are you now?”

  “On my way to the station.”

  “Good.” Davis stood up. “I don’t want any more slip-ups. If Billy becomes a problem, deal with him. Just bring the girl back here.”

  Davis hung up. He sat back down in the chair, and started to massage his temples once again.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  The right knee of Roman’s jeans had a hole in it.

  He stared at it for several moments while his eyes adjusted, the white fraying torn and severed. It made no sense to him. Just as wanting to lift his head off the steering wheel now but being unable to also didn’t make any sense. He closed his eyes again, and forced every unwanted thought from his mind.

  Concentrate.

  What had happened? What was he missing?

  Roman opened his eyes, the hole in his jeans visible once again, and remembered. Bloody Davis and his goddamn poison. He didn’t know who he held more anger towards: the old man for having the nerve to pull such a stunt, or himself for falling for it.

  Two keys swung from the silver loop of his key ring, the third still in the ignition. He fumbled for a grip, his hands shaking and his fingers uncoordinated, and turned it. The engine groaned, its growl coming and going before it died altogether. Roman pumped the accelerator, and again twisted the key. Nothing. He lifted his head, this time without any hesitation, and shook away the grogginess. A chilled shook his body. He glanced down at his bare body and a frown creased his brow. His shirt lay crumpled in the passenger foot well, and he reached for it. It was way too ripped and torn to wear, and he flung it back to the floor.

  The door flung open with a swift kick, and he swung his legs out and stood. Outside, rays of sunlight shone upon acres of grassy fields. Nearby, cattle grazed, seemingly unbothered by his presence. Roman inhaled a fresh lungful of the countryside, and turned to examine the car he loved – his pride and joy. Broken fence dented the bonnet, and paint had been stripped from its sides, destroying its former beauty forever. He would kill Davis for what he’d done to the vehicle, let alone—

  Roman stopped, and glanced towards the rear of the car. He remembered more. He remembered putting a chloroformed Eliza in the boot. The three strides it took to reach the back of the car mimicked more of a rushed jog than a walk. He patted his jeans for his keys, remembered he’d left them in the ignition, and fetched them. His fingers shook with fear, a rare emotion for him. He didn’t like feeling it. What he expected to find inside he wasn’t sure, but regardless, he slotted the metal into the lock and turned it until he heard the bonnet latch release. Slowly, he opened the boot.

  Empty.

  At first, not seeing Eliza inside, hurt or even dead, came as a welcome relief. Then frustration prevailed to beg the question, where in the hell had she gone? He noted the broken seat and spun to face the fields. The grassy meadows stretched for miles, but no matter how much he squinted, he could see no fleeing Eliza in the distance.

  He slammed the boot shut and whacked the surface. It left a dent, and he cursed further at his own stupidity. Trees and bushes lined the roadside, the tar
mac beyond only visible through the broken bushes made by his car. Ignoring everything else, he headed up the bank. It wasn’t too steep, but still would have been tricky for Eliza to climb with her hands and feet tied. A familiar and discarded length of rope caught his eye and he knelt, cursing yet again. He clenched the rope in his hand, and gave in to the dismay of having to accept the cold hard truth: he’d given up the piece of wood’s whereabouts, and now Eliza had finally succeeded in escaping him. He’d lost his only leverage against Davis and now stood no chance of finding the True Cross’ location. He’d never see Jane or his son again. Not only that, but if the old man got to Eliza before Roman, then she would die for sure.

  He dropped the rope and headed up to the road. Black tyre marks swerved across the tarmac, ending where he now stood. Given the severity of the skid, he was almost impressed Eliza had been lucid enough to make it out of the boot at all, let alone travel any further. He glanced right, then left. No sign of traffic, not even the hum of an engine in the distance. A bird chirped somewhere above him – a blackbird, if he wasn’t mistaken – but his feathered friend was of little help in finding a solution to the predicament he now faced.

  Pacing back and forth didn’t help much, either. He wore no watch, so had little idea how much of a head start Eliza had on him. Even if he had known, where would he begin looking for her? North? South? Back at her father’s? A police station?

  He remembered the paperwork on Davis’ desk, in particular the whereabouts of the last piece of the Cross. Finding Eliza was important to him, but getting possession of that last piece of wood was his final chance to reach Jane, and save Eliza – that was, if Davis hadn’t taken it already.

  Way down the road, the glimmer of sun reflected off a windscreen like the sparkle from a highly polished diamond. Roman listened. Sure enough, the low rumble of an engine followed. He took several paces into the middle of the road, and waited. The chug of the vehicle neared. Eventually, an orange Mini Cooper appeared over the top of the hill. When it was close enough for him to read the number plate, Roman held up his hands and flagged the driver to pull over.

  A young kid got out, twenty years old if he was a day. He eyed Roman for a second, his eyes seeming to linger on the hole in his jeans, and Roman fought the urge to point out the dangers of stopping for strangers along the roadside.

  “Are you okay?” the kid asked, looking hesitant to step out from behind the security of his open door.

  Roman pointed to his car. “Deer ran out. I swerved to miss it but…”

  “A deer? Really? Here?” The young boy glanced at the broken foliage. From his point of view, Roman guessed he could just about see the tail end of the Aston. As expected, curiosity got the better of the driver, and the boy stepped out from behind his door and walked closer to the accident site. “Whoa, that’s a neat ride.”

  “It was a neat ride.”

  “You want me to call a tow truck or something?”

  Roman shook his head. “What I really need is your car.”

  “My car?”

  It was obvious to Roman that his intentions didn’t sink in with the boy straight away. In fact, it felt like a full minute before the boy started to slowly withdraw from him and make a dash back towards the open door of his Mini. Roman rushed after him. He had to give this lad his dues, he was a fast little bugger when he got going. He made it back to his car before Roman could reach him, a defeat Roman chalked up to the fact that he’d just died – again – and pulled the door shut, hitting the locks and quickly starting the vehicle. The engine revved far higher than the Mini allowed for, and the kid glanced towards Roman one last time, a look of confidence breaking through the fear that he was indeed going to make a clean getaway.

  Roman smiled. He wasn’t without a trick or two up his sleeve, and punched his fist through the side window. He grabbed the boy by the scruff of the neck and smashed his head against the steering wheel. Not too hard. Roman didn’t want to kill the guy, just daze him enough so he wouldn’t be any more trouble. The lad’s foot slipped from the clutch, and the engine stalled. When Roman pulled his head back, a purple lump already bruised the bridge of the kid’s nose. He tried to speak, but Roman opened the door and let the lad half fall, half stagger, onto the road.

  Roman turned for the car and stopped. The young lad was smaller in build, but even a tight jumper would less inconspicuous than none at all. “Give me you sweater.”

  The lad frowned.

  Roman took a step towards him and the boy quickly pulled his jumper over his head and threw it towards Roman.

  Roman caught it, and got into the car, his legs too long for the pedals even after he adjusted the seat. He glanced at the lad. “A guy your age really should think about getting one of those boy racer cars.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  “It’s just over that hill,” Eliza said, not entirely sure Roman’s car was in fact where she thought it might be.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Billy glance in her direction. He said nothing. In fact, he hadn’t said anything since she’d told him of her abduction and the conversations it had spawned with Roman back in the cabin. So, following his lead, she’d remained quiet for the duration of the journey, and only spoke when she needed to direct him left or right.

  The police car climbed the hill until trees, fields, and the open road beyond became visible. Eliza searched ahead, now certain she was at the right place, and that Roman’s car was somewhere buried among the bushes along the left-hand side.

  “There’re skid marks across the road,” Billy said, slowing the car. “Looks like you weren’t lying.”

  “Why would you think I was?” Eliza waited for the car to come to a complete stop and turned towards him. “Do you think I made the whole thing up?”

  “As hard as it was to hear what you had to say, I actually believe some of it.”

  “Some? What bit don’t you believe?”

  Billy didn’t answer. He glanced out through the windscreen and pointed to the skid marks again. “Looks like the car skidded off into the trees over there.”

  Eliza didn’t accept his change of subject. “Billy, what part don’t you believe? That this guy is involved with Davis, or that apparently Davis wants me dead?”

  “I already had a feeling this family of ours wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.”

  “So what part then?”

  Billy took a deep breath. As he exhaled, he spoke in an even, controlled tone. “I’m not sold on the whole sacrifice thing, or that you can move crap with your mind. I think someone is up to something. Whether it’s Davis or our father is anyone’s guess, but this Roman guy knows and is somehow involved.”

  “It’s not Dad, it’s Davis.”

  “Whatever. I think Roman’s spun you a whole yarn of lies to mess with your head.”

  “Why would he do that? What possible reason is there?”

  “He’s nuts. Do people like that need a reason?”

  Eliza knew she had no explanation for the things she’d done in the past few days. She opened the door to get out, but Billy reached across her and pulled it back shut.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Roman’s car is just through there.”

  “And I can find it on my own.”

  “You’re making me stay here?”

  “Yes.”

  “But—”

  “It’s non-negotiable, Eliza. You wait here or I’ll cuff you to the steering wheel. Got it?”

  Eliza raised a brow, but Billy’s mind was made up; that narrowing of his eyes told her he wasn’t about to budge on his decision. He opened the driver’s door, the twittering of birds suddenly audible, climbed out, and slammed the door shut behind him. Eliza sat back against the seat and folded her arms. Her father constantly treated her like a child and she hated it. Now Billy was doing the same? She watched him near the point of impact. He kicked a broken fence panel to one side, glanced back t
owards her – probably to check she hadn’t followed him – and stepped into the undergrowth.

  Eliza waited until he was out of sight before quietly opening the door. She had no intention of staying put. In the last forty-eight hours she’d battled everything from the advances of Doctor Dick to the mysterious and violent unknown. To be treated a victim now was almost laughable.

  She tiptoed the few metres between Billy’s police car and the crash site, and peered through the bushes. Billy was already beside Roman’s car, hunched and leaning in through the open passenger door. Eliza rounded the bush, needing to see if Roman was dead or alive, no matter how insane with rage Billy would be when he saw she’d ignored his order to stay away. She reached the top of the ditch. A twig snapped beneath her bare foot, and Billy whipped his head up to face her. She expected a look of surprise, but instead he gave a disapproving tut and turned back to the car.

  “Is he dead?”

  “No.”

  “He’s alive?”

  “No.”

  Eliza took a single step forward and tried to peer into the car. Billy’s body blocked any view of the driver’s side. “Billy? Is he dead or isn’t he?”

  Billy backed out of the car. He straightened and stood to one side, waving a hand towards the driver’s seat like a magician revealing a vacant box.

  Eliza took another step forward and saw the car was empty. Loose dirt crumbled beneath her weight, and she slid a little way down the bank before regaining her balance. “Where is he?”

  Billy shrugged and walked to the other side of the car.

  “But he was right there, slumped over the steering wheel.”

  Autumn leaves and debris crunched underfoot somewhere behind the bushes to their left. Billy pressed his finger to his lips. More slowly than Eliza had ever seen him move before, he made his way to the front of the Aston.

  Branches rustled. A twig snapped. Eliza backed up towards the road. If Roman emerged through those bushes, she wanted to be in easy reach of the police radio. A hand pulled back part of a branch until the twig snapped in two. Billy said nothing. He just waited, his hand poised near his belt and the Taser clipped to the side of it.