A Passionate Spirit

by S. C. Skillman

  Jessica stopped opposite the Church of St. John the Baptist, and turned to Theo, her hand clutched to her chest.

  “What happened?”

  “No idea. How did that bird get into the room?”

  “Someone must have left a window open,” said Jessica. “It was huge, and black; a raven, perhaps.”

  Zoe turned to James, and saw Natasha folded in his arms. Bewildered, Zoe was about to speak, when James’s voice struck her.

  “Why did you say those words, you little…?”

  “That’s enough, James! Back off.” Theo’s voice was razor-edged. He strode along the road, as Zoe hurried to catch up with him. She shot several glances around, searching for James and Natasha. But they’d already gone. Meanwhile, Jessica marched on ahead, cutting off all further opportunities for conversation.

  Matching her pace to Theo’s, Zoe seized his hand, bringing him to an abrupt halt.

  “Why did you leave it to me?”

  He turned on her, his face livid. “You had no right to do that; or to use those words. You played with fire in there.” He grabbed her arm and held it in a fierce grip. “You’ve no idea what you’re doing. No idea at all.”

  Tears streaming down her face, Zoe broke away from him and fled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  When Jessica stepped into the office at Zoe’s request at five thirty that afternoon, Zoe was prepared to make the biggest plea she’d ever made in her whole life. No sooner had the door closed behind Jessica than Zoe confronted her. She raised both hands, palms uppermost.

  “Jessica, please tell me. What will you do about Natasha? And James?”

  Jessica pursed her lips and folded her arms. “First, let’s get one thing clear. You tell me what you suppose happened in the King’s Head earlier.”

  “It must have been obvious to everyone,” said Zoe. “We saw clear evidence of demonic power.”

  Jessica stared at her. Then she walked across to the group of easy chairs and seated herself.

  “All right,” she said. “Shall we try being rational about this? I’m a bit concerned that you think something supernatural took place. Well, it didn’t. A bird blundered into the room when someone left the door open. Frightening, I admit, but sometimes that does happen.”

  “And this is your last word on the subject?” said Zoe.

  Jessica’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. However,” she added, “I have called another emergency meeting of the trustees; for Monday evening at six.”

  “Monday evening? We can’t wait till then!”

  “Wait for what exactly?” Jessica scrutinised Zoe’s face like a psychiatrist about to reach a diagnosis.

  It was clear to Zoe that Jessica thought she was unhinged.

  “All right,” she said. “I’ve one more thing to say. I believe James is involved in Alice’s disappearance.”

  Jessica’s eyes widened. “Oh, come on, Zoe.”

  “I’ve looked James up. And I learned three new things about him.”

  “OK,” said Jessica with a visible effort to be patient. “What’s the first?” She opened her handbag and produced a notebook and pen.

  Zoe cleared her throat. “Six years ago, James stood in court, accused of the abduction and rape of a first-year undergraduate girl at Edinburgh. The case was dismissed due to ‘unsafe’ evidence.”

  Jessica began scribbling on her pad. Zoe guessed she was taking notes.

  “And number two?” she said, without looking up.

  “A certain actress lodged a complaint about him stalking her. The police investigated, he was held for questioning, but released without charge. The reason given was ‘insufficient admissible evidence’.”

  A deep line appeared on Jessica’s brow. “Go on,” she said. “Let’s hear number three.”

  “Did you realize James is divorced?” Zoe asked.

  Jessica stabbed her pen into the page three times. “So? I don’t see what…”

  “His wife initiated the proceedings; and her grounds? Domestic violence and mental and emotional cruelty.”

  Jessica closed the book, capped the pen, and returned both to her handbag.

  She stood up. “I won’t, of course, take your word for any of this. Otherwise it’s defamation. Show me the evidence.”

  “I will. I’ll find it and print it out for you.”

  “You do that. As it happens, I’m meeting James again today – Cirencester again, not the same hotel by the way – I should imagine we’ll probably be black-listed from it now – at nine o’clock this evening.”

  “Good. I’ll get it to you before then.”

  The door opened and Theo came in.

  “Ah, there you are, Zoe,” he said. “May I interrupt? I’m sorry, Jessica, but it’s very important.”

  “By all means, Theo, you’re welcome,” said Jessica. “Our conversation’s at an end anyway, isn’t it, Zoe?”

  Zoe drew herself to her full height and levelled her gaze upon Jessica.

  “Would you come with me, please, Zoe?” said Theo. “I want to talk to you. The Monk’s Room’s free,” and he disappeared back through the internal doorway again.

  The Monk’s Room was a very simple room with whitewashed walls, which had been set aside for solitary contemplation and for counselling. It was furnished with two chairs and a small table. The room had once been used to hide fugitives from royal agents, hunting down those of ‘the wrong religion’ in the sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries.

  On one wall, an artist had painted a life-size image of the Angel Gabriel in egg tempera. It had been copied and enlarged from an icon, the original of which hung in the Church of St Demetrius in Pskov, Russia.

  Theo faced Zoe as she entered the room. She shut the door behind her and stood with her back against it. Before she could move, he strode forward and took hold of both her hands.

  “Zoe, we can’t carry on like this.”

  “No we can’t,” she snapped. “When are you going to open your eyes; see Natasha for who and what she really is; and do something about it?”

  “Never. I don’t accept that there is anything for me to ‘do’ about Natasha. We’ll have to agree to disagree about her.”

  He shifted his hands to her wrists.

  “But what I want you to listen to, Zoe, right now, is how I feel about the way you behaved this afternoon.”

  She twisted from side to side, trying to loosen his hold, her face burning with anger.

  Theo’s eyes were dark with frustration and, though she hardly dared to admit it, fear.

  She fought to loosen his grip. But Theo held on.

  “I feel betrayed, Zoe,” he declared. “You had no right to say those words to Natasha earlier. When I introduced you to my colleagues before we married, I never expected you to abuse my trust.”

  “What are you talking about?” she cried. “Someone had to do it! Since you weren’t going to, it was left to me. You should be ashamed. I don’t know how you dare accuse me.”

  He stared at her, disbelieving. “You’ve changed, Zoe. I can’t cope with this. You make me feel desperate.”

  Zoe tried to break free, and he at first resisted her; but then, without warning, let go. She fell to the floor, knocking both chairs over. Theo plunged to his knees, ready to seize hold of her and lift her up. But she recoiled from him.

  “Don’t touch me,” she sobbed. “You know in your heart of hearts I was right to say the things I did to Natasha. You were too cowardly. And if you love me, you’ll admit it!”

  “I don’t admit it. I never thought you’d sink to emotional blackmail.”

  She scrambled to her feet, and raised her hand to hit him. A loud knock came on the door. Zoe started violently. Theo had frozen.

  “Theo? Zoe? Are you two all right?” Griff called.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Forty-five minutes later, the sound of a car engine outside the sitting-room window caught Zoe’s attention, as she glanced up from her iPad. But she refocused on the first page
of information about James and his ex-wife. She’d make sure Jessica had the evidence she needed to hand, to present to the trustees on Monday so they could make an informed decision about James.

  She intended to miss dinner. After her fourth confrontation of the day, twice with Theo, and once each with Jessica and Natasha, she’d lost all appetite, and was feeling weak and tired. Her wrists still throbbed from the pressure of Theo’s grip on them. Right now she didn’t trust herself to speak to anybody and was thankful no-one else had come into the room. She feared she’d lose control and burst into floods of tears.

  She loved Theo and had meant to stay with him forever.

  With fierce concentration she studied the screen. She must get back to that information about James and print it out for Jessica. She’d send it to their private printer, not the one in the office. This evidence in black and white seemed the sole chance right now of beginning to change Jessica’s opinion of James and, in turn, that of the other trustees. That would be the first step, Zoe hoped, to break into the toxic chain of events that held them in its grip, together with every aspect of their lives. James and Natasha would be kicked out. And she and Theo would be back on the path of healing again; or so she reasoned to herself.

  The door from the entrance hall opened. She looked up. It was Griff.

  Zoe bit her lip.

  “Hello, Zoe,” said Griff.

  “Hi,” she said, and refocused on her screen.

  She was aware that Griff hesitated and guessed he wanted to say something to her. But she ignored him. He walked through the room to the doorway beyond, and left.

  If Alice was here, Zoe felt sure she’d know what to do. But nobody had a clue to where Alice might be, or what had happened to her. A tear escaped from the corner of her eye and trickled down her face.

  She was so preoccupied she’d failed to notice a new arrival in the room, until a shadow fell over her. She looked up. It was James.

  She caught her breath.

  “James! What do you want? I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Yes, amazing how quiet I can be if it suits me.” His gaze locked on hers.

  She frowned. “You have something to say to me?”

  “I do. In fact, I have an invitation for you.”

  “Another one? Your previous one didn’t turn out very promising, did it? The chance to star in this dodgy film which Sonya’s making?”

  “Oh, that. So you’re going to turn it down?”

  She paused. “Let’s put it like this; perhaps Sonya might be able to come up with something more acceptable to me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “No guarantee of that, I’m afraid. But I do have another suggestion, which will again involve a bit of a journey for you. I know the others are preparing for dinner right now. So I don’t expect you’ll be missed, at least in the next half-hour; which gives me a window of opportunity.”

  Inexplicably, a frisson of terror ran down her spine. Another journey? But she kept a straight expression, and when she spoke, her voice was steady. Her fingers, though, had turned cold. “You want me to come with you to Chipping Sodbury again?”

  He chuckled.

  “No. We’ll be going in quite another direction. Time’s running out for you, Zoe.”

  Her stomach flipped.

  “I have an appointment with Jessica at nine o’clock in Cirencester,” he said, “and I may still be able to make it. So here’s my invitation, Zoe. I want you to be my guest. At a little place I’ve picked up, some distance from here.”

  Zoe’s heart missed a beat.

  “I don’t want to be your guest. Get lost, James.”

  At this, he whipped the iPad from her hands, pocketed it, and grabbed her upper arm. She cried out in pain.

  He held on. “You didn’t say the right things about me to Jessica this afternoon, Zoe. I was listening behind the door. And I can guess what you were looking up just now.”

  She pulled away from him, lost her footing and fell sideways, landing on the floor, with one leg twisted under her. The shock registered in her right knee. She gasped. Before she could make a further noise, a scarf was whipped round her mouth and pulled tight.

  “Up you get.” He grabbed her by the armpits and lifted her, kicking and struggling. “Come on. I’ve a special treat for you. You’ll be my guest, whether you want to or not.”

  He tucked her under one arm, carried her back out through the deserted entrance hall, and through the front doorway like a rolled-up carpet. A few strides took him to the waiting Cayenne, with open boot. She prayed fervently that someone would see them. But nobody intervened, and James flung her into the boot. She landed on a blanket spread out ready for her.

  “I do hope you’ll be comfortable in there,” he said, and closed the lid, plunging her into darkness.

  As she beat on the metal with both her fists, the engine sprang into life, and the Cayenne rocketed away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Zoe lay in the boot of the Cayenne, the darkness pressing in on her. Her heart thundered against her ribs. Her conscious mind had gone into overdrive, like a piece of speeded-up footage. In each shot, she saw a different scenario of what James meant to do to her. She wrestled the foul images her imagination started to lob at her. She managed to control her wrenching gut before throwing up.

  James hadn’t tied her arms and she tore off the gag. She screamed again and again then gave up, knowing the sound of the engine would have drowned her out. She subsided, sobbing, in the darkness. The Cayenne accelerated. No doubt he was on the A417 now. Her mind continued to race.

  Theo would never find out where she was. There was no hope anyone would guess what had happened to Zoe. Jessica and Theo had both brushed Zoe’s opinions about James and Natasha aside. Now the worst had happened, and it was too late.

  Zoe began to form a plan. As soon as the car slowed down, she’d prepare herself. Every muscle would be primed for her to spring at James the moment he opened the boot. She’d claw his face. She’d knee him in the groin – if her injured knee would allow. The pain throbbed, sending stabs up her right thigh.

  She ran through his words once more. He intended to take her to a little place he’d picked up, some distance from here. That could mean a disused shack, or a lock-up, or even a fortified cellar.

  And there was no way of guessing what he meant by ‘some distance’. It could be out of Gloucestershire. It might mean ten miles, fifty miles, a hundred miles. He’d said he still planned to make a meeting with Jessica in Cirencester at nine o’clock. It must have been about seven o’clock when he threw Zoe into the boot. That meant he was giving himself two hours to deal with her and get to the meeting.

  She was able, at least, to change position; there was nothing else in the boot besides her and the blanket. Her heart chilled. He’d have kept this clear so he could abduct her. Then her mind shot back to what she could do when he opened the boot. If she managed to knee him in the groin and throw him off, she might still only have at most three seconds to escape.

  New, bizarre images intervened. Perhaps he meant to rape and strangle her. And then he’d dump her body in a ditch. Or he planned to lock her up behind a series of high-security doors. Zoe sobbed as her imagination flipped through ever more gothic scenarios. Theo might not miss her for hours. And then he’d waste time searching in all the wrong places. He’d have no idea where to begin.

  Tears spilled from her eyes and coursed down her face, tracking around her neck, soaking the collar of her jacket and the blouse underneath, and the blanket on which she lay. She willed herself to crush those negative thoughts and concentrated on forming a detailed plan. As soon as the car stopped, the engine turned off, and she heard James walk round to the boot, that would be her cue. She’d brace every muscle, every nerve, ready to spring out as soon as the boot opened. She’d scream so loud, she’d pierce his eardrum. She’d knee him in the crotch. Then she’d run for it, screaming: “Help! Kidnap! Murder!”

  The Cayenne made a wide tu
rn and began to bump along what felt like an uneven track or dirt road, and to take sharp twists and follow round big bends. It levelled out, and slowed. This was her chance. The engine stopped.

  Every nerve screamed; every sense was on high alert. She scrambled to a squatting position. The driver’s door opened and closed, and footsteps approached the boot. Her heart pounded so fast she thought it would break from her chest.

  The boot began to open. She sprang – into an enveloping blanket. Strong arms rolled her in it within a second. She opened her mouth to bite or scream. But it was stuffed full of blanket. She tried to kick, squirm, flail out with hands and nails, but her limbs were held fast.

  An inferno raged inside her: frustration, panic, terror; all feeding the flames. Now he lifted her up, heaved her over his shoulder, and walked with long strides. A door closed. They were on the move again: Then stillness; silence.

  God! Help me! screamed a voice in her head.

  James carried her up some stairs. She calculated that he climbed three flights. Then he stopped. A door was unbolted and unlocked. A few further steps, then without warning, she fell and hit the floor. Still wrapped in the blanket, she squirmed and kicked. Meanwhile footsteps receded, a door opened and closed, a bolt slid, a key turned in a lock. James had dumped her, and gone. She clawed her way out of the blanket.

  Gasping for breath, she opened her eyes wide. She was in a dark room, where the sole light-source seemed to be burning candles. Then a torch beam was directed into her face. She blinked and covered her eyes.

  “Sorry,” a voice whispered. She took her hand away and saw the torch was now placed lowdown, so it cast light around, but not straight at her. Struggling into a sitting position, she found herself staring into a female face. The whites of her eyes gleamed.

  “Alice!” she gasped.

  Alice flung her arms around Zoe and hugged her.

  “Alice!” Zoe repeated. “Thank God you’re alive.”

  The two girls clung together for several seconds. When they released each other, Zoe studied her fellow-prisoner once more. Alice’s black hair, no longer tied up in the high ponytail, spread wild and bushy around her head. Her eyes still held fire. James might have roughed her up a bit, thought Zoe; but her spirit was unbroken.