So that’s where Chad stayed. Slumped against the door, his eyes closed.
Waiting.
A few seconds later he heard the sound of the engine starting up, and that was when the real fear crept in. They were moving again, travelling further out across the badlands. Not back the way that they had come, like Chad had hoped. He’d been praying silently to himself that the man had got his kicks and would drop him back where he found him. Even if he didn’t pay him. Chad no longer cared about the money.
Only, Chad knew deep down that the punter wasn’t dropping him back. He felt sick then, tasting the burning bile at the back of his throat. The deep pit of dread that had replaced his stomach.
He was trapped inside this car with no idea where he was being taken.
He was at this mad fucker’s mercy now.
He wondered at the irony that on his first night at working the job, he had fallen prey to exactly the type of nutcase that Joey had warned him about.
The car sped up.
Forty. Fifty. Sixty miles an hour. Chad wasn’t sure but, opening one eye, he peered out of the window and eyed the rickety dirt track that ran adjacent with one of the old railway tracks.
He was going to have to fight back, he realised with dread. He had to. What other choice did he have?
He could do it. If he just leaned over now and caught the driver by surprise. He wasn’t much of a fighter, he didn’t have it in him, but he could claw at the man’s face, maybe grab the man by the throat. Pull his hair even, whatever it took. They’d probably crash, and the chances were he wasn’t going to leave this car unscathed. But at least he’d have some chance of getting away. He wouldn’t be at such a disadvantage.
All he had to do was be brave and do it. Lean over, and strike out. For once in his life, be courageous.
Only Chad didn’t get the opportunity.
The driver struck first.
He heard the click of the central locking being released and then in one quick sudden moment, the man leant over and opened the door. Grabbing hold of Chad, before launching him out.
The heat of the car replaced by the cold, rushing wind as suddenly Chad’s body flew through the air.
Screaming with fear and panic, Chad reached back to grab onto something, anything. The door, the chair, anything that would save him.
Nothing could.
A twisted look of horror in his eyes, as he realised too late what was happening. That he was flying through the air at speed. Plummeting towards the steel railway beams.
The last thing Chad felt was his body slamming into the thick metal tracks. An explosion of pain as his body flipped over, smacking against every bit of steel and concrete with force.
Mangling his body beyond recognition.
Chad Evans never felt anything again.
Chapter Four
Pounding her fists against Alex Costa’s front door, Nancy knew he was home, she could hear the loud thud of music radiating out through his fancy apartment’s walls. His stereo blaring, even at this ridiculous hour of the morning.
His neighbours must love him, she thought as she scanned the corridor. Her eyes flashing wildly with fear and panic towards the elevator and stairwell, secretly terrified that someone might have followed her back to Alex’s apartment.
Nancy tried again.
This time, banging her fists even harder against the panelled door, not caring that her hands were red and swollen.
‘Alex! It’s me, Nancy. Open the door.’
She had no memory of how she got here. No recollection at all. Alex Costa’s apartment had been the closest place she could think of to go to. Only a few miles from Brentford Canal, though in the dead of the night and the state that she was in, she wasn’t sure how she’d even made it here.
She must still be in shock. Both adrenaline and fear pumping around her body. The last thing she could remember was dragging herself up off the cold, wet pavement. Her attacker had been nowhere in sight. Long gone, he’d left Nancy out cold on the ground.
She’d felt disorientated, at first, when she’d realised that her clothes were all wet and torn. Her knees bleeding through the jagged rips in the material of her trousers after they’d taken the impact of her fall. Knowing that she couldn’t go home, that her family would only make a big drama over tonight’s ordeal – the last thing Nancy had wanted was her nan Joanie and her sanctimonious mother Colleen making a fuss over her – she’d had nowhere else to go but here.
‘Alex, I know you’re in there,’ Nancy shouted once more, half tempted to kick the door to get his attention. Only thankfully she didn’t have to resort to such measures. Seconds later the front door opened, and Nancy recoiled at the state of the man before her.
‘Jesus, Alex,’ she exclaimed catching sight of him standing in the doorway.
Alex Costa was a mess. Dishevelled, still wearing the clothes he’d worn to her father’s funeral yesterday, only now he had the remnants of what looked like splashes of alcohol and tomato sauce all down the front of him. His skin looked sullen and grey. His eyes puffy and swollen. His pupils dilated to the size of saucers. His forehead dripping with sweat.
‘You look worse than me!’ Nancy added, watching as Alex tried to hold himself up against the doorframe, his body still unwittingly swaying as he stood there frowning at Nancy. He was drunk, she realised. Paralytic and, judging by the look of confusion on his face, he was wondering why she was here at his apartment at this time of morning.
Nancy was beginning to wonder that now herself.
Though still wary that her attacker might be lurking nearby, Nancy didn’t wait for an invite inside; instead, she pushed her way in.
‘Oh, please. Do come in,’ Alex slurred, his voice heavily loaded with sarcasm as he closed the door behind her and followed Nancy through to the lounge. Staggering as he went.
‘If I’d known I was going to have guests I would have tidied up a bit,’ he said as he saw Nancy wrinkle her nose up at the chaos and disarray of his apartment. The music was still blaring loudly. The floor strewn with empty bottles of Scotch that had been carelessly tossed on the floor now that they were empty. The place stunk too. A stale stench lingered in the air around them. Body odour? Food? There was a strong bitter aroma of alcohol in the air too.
‘Housework hasn’t exactly been high on my list of priorities lately!’ Alex said, without apology, as he bent down and dragged the half-eaten pizza that was hanging out of its box off the sofa and onto the floor. Kicking it underneath with his foot. ‘Here, take a seat. I must have dozed off…’ he said, suddenly realising that he was currently wearing half of the pizza’s toppings. His shirt covered in tomato paste and stringy bits of mozzarella cheese. He’d spilt his drink down himself too. He must have passed out. That’s why he hadn’t heard Nancy banging at the front door.
‘Typical, the first time in over a week that I’ve managed to fall asleep and you wake me up.’ Alex slurred, his voice making light of the fact that he was annoyed that Nancy had turned up unannounced.
Only, suddenly he realised that Nancy looked a state too. Her clothes were ripped, and a stream of blood trickled down her face.
‘Fuck! What happened to you? Did you have a fall or something?’ he said, noting that the girl had clearly been crying, which was to be expected after burying her father he guessed.
‘I went for a walk, down along Brentwood Canal,’ Nancy said. ‘I was attacked.’
Every part of her was hurting from where she’d been flung down so roughly. Her cheek was grazed and her lip was swollen and she could feel the trickle of blood dripping down her forehead from the cut above her right eye.
‘Attacked? By who? Did you get a good look at them?’
Nancy shook her head.
‘It was dark, and he had his hood up. I couldn’t see his face.’
‘Fuck!’ Alex said, shaking his head. His expression of concern then, as he walked over towards his stereo system, unsteadily on his feet, and turned down the pounding
music, before walking from the room and returning with a wet flannel.
‘Here, stick that on your face,’ he said, almost sympathetically, until he added: ‘You’re dripping claret all over my carpet. Jesus, you look a state, Nancy.’
‘Likewise,’ Nancy muttered under her breath, the smell of whiskey fumes coming from the man making her recoil. ‘You smell like a brewery.’
‘Yeah, well. It’s been a fucking tough week, what with your dad…’ Alex left the rest of the sentence hanging between them. As if he could barely bring himself to say it out loud.
Your dad’s death.
Jimmy Byrne’s dead.
‘I fucking miss him, Nancy,’ Alex said, crumbling before her onto the floor, as he began crying hysterically, the alcohol and the intensity of his grief seemingly colliding the moment he’d set eyes on Nancy.
Shit! She shouldn’t have come here. This was the very last thing Nancy needed to hear right now. She was doing her damnedest to try and stay strong. Her father and Alex had been close. She got that. Best friends, working together for over two decades, the two men had been inseparable. There wasn’t a birthday party or Christmas that Nancy could remember without Alex Costa being there.
Uncle Alex, that’s what she and her brother Daniel used to call him when they were small.
The rumours she’d heard about him and her father recently couldn’t be true. They were more like brothers and, judging by the state of him now, Alex Costa was clearly taking her father’s death just as badly as she was.
‘We all do,’ she said, her words sounding colder than she really felt them; Nancy couldn’t console this man in front of her. She couldn’t even console herself.
She was too numb. Too cut off from her own emotions.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here,’ she said getting up.
Debating on making her way home, she thought about the attacker again. He might still be out there. Waiting for her, and this time she might not be lucky enough to get away.
Jack Taylor.
Why hadn’t she thought of him earlier? She should have gone straight to Jack. He’d know what to do. Jack always knew what to do.
‘Do you think you could call Jack for me, Alex? Maybe he could drop me home?’ Then on second thoughts, realising that the man probably wasn’t even capable of making a phone call, Nancy added: ‘Or I can call him. If you let me use your phone?’
Alex waved his hand in the air, making out as if he was more than capable, even though he could barely see straight now. His vision blurred, the room was spinning.
Somehow though he made the call.
More than happy to oblige. Of course he’d call Jack Taylor. Hopefully the bloke would hurry the fuck up and get his arse around here, and he would take Nancy with him when he left. The sooner Nancy fucked off the better. He didn’t want to be around anyone right now. Least of all one of Jimmy Byrne’s children. Nancy being here, in his apartment, was only making him feel worse.
‘He’s on his way.’
Nancy nodded. Grateful then, though she realised that Alex had called Jack for as much his own benefit as he did hers. He didn’t want her here, as much as she didn’t want to be here either. She was clearly disturbing him from festering all alone with his thoughts in this shithole of an apartment no doubt.
‘You want a drink?’
Nancy shook her head; only, Alex didn’t notice, or at least, if he did, he decided that she needed one. Making his way over to the side unit, he poured out two glasses of Scotch. Slopping his drink all over the floor as he turned and walked uneasy on his feet towards her.
‘Drink it,’ he said, indicating the glass in his other hand. ‘It will help with the shock.’
Nancy grimaced, but did as she was told. Instead of refusing it, she held out her hand and accepted the glass gratefully, seeing as a drink and a flannel were clearly the only means of sympathy Alex had to offer.
Bringing the glass to her lips with a shaking hand, Nancy swallowed the drink down in one, savouring the immediate burn. Relishing the heat in the back of her throat. Her father drank this shit all the time, and normally Nancy couldn’t stand the stuff, the acrid smell of Scotch made her want to be sick, but tonight the alcohol was the only thing that seemed to get anywhere near the deep chill that cut right through her.
The cold, shock. A mixture of the two no doubt. She needed something, anything to take the edge off her nerves.
She’d been terrified tonight.
All alone out there with some madman. She was lucky to still be alive, she thought, remembering how he’d slammed her head down onto the cold hard ground. The malice in her attacker’s voice as he had threatened her.
‘What were you doing out wandering the canal by yourself in the middle of the night? Don’t you think that’s a bit stupid?’ Slurring, Alex’s words were almost inaudible.
‘I’m sorry?’ Nancy said, bristling at his condescending tone. Alex was twisting this around onto her? Making out that her being attacked was her fault. That she’d somehow brought it upon herself. ‘This wasn’t just a random attack, Alex. Someone followed me. They knew who I was. It was deliberate.’
‘What did they want then?’ Alex said, half listening now as he spread a line of cocaine out on the table.
Nancy shook her head, disgusted. Alex was off his face on coke too, she realised, and yet he still had the cheek to call her out on her behaviour.
She didn’t answer. Watching as Alex bent down and hoovered up a line of coke that he’d prepared for himself, Nancy didn’t want to have this conversation with someone who was clearly preoccupied with getting higher than a proverbial kite tonight.
Feeling Nancy’s eyes burning in to him, the disapproval coming off the girl in waves, Alex smirked. ‘Do you want some?’
She shook her head.
‘How long did Jack say he would be?’ she said, hoping that he would hurry up. She’d just been attacked. Just had her life threatened, and Alex Costa couldn’t give a shit about her. He was too far gone. Too busy shoving shit up his nose and drinking himself into a stupor.
‘Not long,’ Alex said. Not quick enough. Glancing at the clock on the wall before pacing the room, visibly agitated that Nancy was here. Alex didn’t know what to do with himself.
The knock on the front door couldn’t have come quickly enough for either of them. Relieved that Jack had arrived in record time, Alex went to let him in.
‘Where is she?’ Jack’s voice travelled through the apartment.
Staying seated on the settee, Nancy could hear the genuine concern in Jack Taylor’s voice. His sympathy making her want to cry.
Holding herself together as Jack strolled into the room seconds later, Nancy could see the shock and panic in his eyes as he looked at her.
‘Shit, Nancy! What the fuck happened to you? You’re bleeding? Do you need me to take you to the hospital? Are you okay?’
Nancy lost it. Unable to pretend that she was okay any longer, she burst into tears. Her body shaking with each wracking sob.
Jack was there then. Beside her on the sofa, wrapping his arms around her as she cried. He could have kicked himself for not playing it cooler, but seeing the state of the girl, her face all cut and swollen, the blood, he hadn’t been able to disguise his concern for her. She was clearly visibly shaken up, her face streaked with jagged trails of black mascara that ran down both her cheeks.
‘Alex said that you were attacked?’ Jack said, a few minutes later when Nancy’s tears had finally subsided.
‘I’m fine. Really.’ Placing a trembling hand up to the cut to apply more pressure on her face to stem the blood flow that Nancy thought had stopped, she knew that the fear in her voice betrayed her. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t fine at all. She was scared. Genuinely.
‘It was probably just some drunk hanging out by the canal and trying his luck. Walking down there on her own, Nancy was an easy target for some fucking scumbag druggie to try his luck. Whoever it was probably thought tha
t they could rob her so he could pay for his next fix,’ Alex spat, still annoyed that Nancy had brought her dramas to his door, tonight of all nights.
Not only did he have her sitting here, but Jack Taylor too. Alex just wanted them both to hurry up and leave. So he could be alone with his grief. The Scotch and cocaine were surging through his bloodstream now. Psyching himself up again, making him feel on edge.
Pouring himself another drink, he offered one to Jack, but Jack shook his head.
Which suited Alex just fine. More for him. ‘Suit yourself,’ he said before going to open another bottle.
Nancy raised her eyes now that Alex was out of sight. Nodding down to the table, to the remnants of cocaine and the empty bottle of Scotch from earlier, she didn’t need to say any more than that. Jack got the message loud and clear.
‘He’s a fucking mess, Jack. I’ve never seen him like this before.’
Jack nodded, knowing more about Alex Costa than he was prepared to let on to Nancy. The man wasn’t his priority right now, she was.
‘Are you okay? Did you get a good look at whoever it was?’
Nancy shook her head.
‘It was too dark, but it wasn’t a random attack, Jack,’ she said. ‘Someone followed me. They knew who I was, and they were trying to scare me off. Trying to shut me up…’ she paused, knowing that she’d said too much.
Jack could see it too. That Nancy was holding something back.
‘Is there something you’re not telling me? What do you mean they were trying to shut you up?’ he said, his eyes furrowed with confusion.
‘I don’t know.’ Nancy closed her eyes, trying desperately to remember the exact words her attacker had said to her. Everything had happened so quickly tonight. It all seemed like a blur now.
‘He pinned me down to the floor. He was on top of me. I couldn’t breathe. I felt like he was suffocating me…’
‘Shit, Nancy. He didn’t do anything to you, did he?’
The Broken_A gripping thriller that will have you on the edge of your seat Page 3