Secrets and Lies: A Collection of Heart-stopping Psychological Thrillers

by M K Farrar

  The dizziness continued to plague her, and now her ears were humming, too, like a low tinnitus.

  Cass frowned.

  Was that tinnitus, or was she actually hearing something in the distance—something other than the constant buzzing of mosquitos and midges, and the twittering of birds blissfully unaware of her plight?

  No, something had changed. She straightened, her shoulders back, her head cocked toward the sky. Was she hallucinating again? It was hardly surprising if she was, considering the amount of blood she’d lost.

  A low drone filtered through to her.

  She recognized that sound. It was an airplane.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Her stomach lurched, and her heart jump-starting like she’d been shocked with a defibrillator.

  Cass clambered to her feet, keeping her gaze glued on the blue of the sky above the clearing. The branches of the trees surrounding her created a frame, but for the moment she saw nothing more than the dotted whites of fluffy clouds, and the black speck of a bird far above.

  The drone grew louder. It was coming this way; she was sure of it.

  Suddenly, the plane appeared in the patch of blue sky above her. The small aircraft was flying low.

  “Hey!” she screamed at the top of her voice, waving her one good hand. “Help! Down here! Please, I’m down here!”

  She waved frantically, desperately hoping whoever was flying the plane would see her.

  “Help! Please help me!”

  There was no possibility that whoever was flying the plane would hear her, but that didn’t stop her screaming. It was an automatic reaction. The drone of the engine grew louder, and her heart raced, her palms growing sweaty with anticipation. Was it possible they were looking for her? From how low they were flying, and the way they circled back around, it certainly felt like it might be a possibility. But she didn’t want to hope, still not fully trusting her own senses. This might not even be real. She could be dreaming or hallucinating, or a bit of both. It wasn’t as though it hadn’t happened before. She was starving and dehydrated and in pain, having gone through a hideous trauma. It wouldn’t be surprising if her head was making things up.

  But no, she was sure the plane was real.

  “Please, stop. I’m down here. Help, please!”

  She watched in dismay as the plane flew out of sight again.

  Had she missed her chance?

  Though it had gone out of sight, the noise of the engine didn’t fade. Was it landing nearby? Had it seen the other plane on the small landing strip and decided to take a closer look?

  At the possibility she might be rescued, tears filled her eyes. She hadn’t thought she had any capacity for hope left, and yet now the emotion filled her.

  The noise of the engine grew louder, before suddenly reducing and cutting off altogether. Did she dare hope it had landed?

  “Help!” she continued to yell, though the shouts hurt her throat, and she was still fairly certain no one could hear her.

  But they might. They’re closer now. Someone is here. You’re not alone anymore.

  “I’m over here! Please, help me!”

  If the pilot had landed to take a look at the other plane, they might be aware of her. If they got back into the plane and took off without trying to search for her, she thought she might give up. How much more could she take? To have her hopes build up that high, only to have them dashed again, was just too much.

  The walk back to the small airstrip was a good hour. The chances of whoever was flying the plane somehow happening upon this clearing was slim. If the pilot had seen it from the air, they might have an indication of which direction to head in, but that was all. Everything looked the same here, and it was easy to get disoriented. She wasn’t sure she’d find her way back either.

  Cass was in bad shape. Though the blood flow from her hand had eased, she was in a huge amount of pain. The water she’d drunk had gone some way to rehydrating her, and she felt one hundred times more alive now that she had the sugar inside her than she had when she was chained to a tree, starving and dying of thirst. But did she have it in her to walk for an hour, and try to find the new arrival and the plane? Her feet were still chained as well, which would make the walk even harder. She’d made it out here with both feet chained, however, so surely she could make it back again.

  She needed to try. Finding the plane—even the original plane—was her best chance of getting out of here, and more than anything, she wanted to get out of here. She wanted to see people and buildings, and never again have to look at a tree or a bug.

  She wasn’t going to just wander out into the woods, however. A small amount of water remained in the plastic bottle, and she’d only eaten one of the Twinkies. There were also the other items he’d brought—the rope and knives. They were items she might be able to make use of, and if she found the plane right away and didn’t need them, all the better. She couldn’t bring herself to touch the knife she’d used to cut her hand—the same knife that had been embedded in the killer’s throat—so she left it where it had fallen from her grip, beneath the tree, covered in blood and dirt.

  Scooping all the items back into the bag, she slung it over her shoulder. She stood up and almost collapsed again, stars floating in her vision. Her blood pressure was low, she was sure of it, and she needed to take it slowly.

  It felt strange to be leaving. Stupidly, she still felt some kind of sanctuary in the small clearing, even though she’d almost died here. Was this how people who suffered from Stockholm Syndrome felt? She’d read of women who hadn’t run from their captors, even when they were taken out in public. Suddenly, she understood them. This place had almost killed her, but now she found she was more frightened of what lay beyond the trees than this clearing. Over the past few days, they’d almost come to a kind of understanding, and taking that first step into whatever lay ahead for her now was daunting.

  But she had to do it. The hard part was over, and she needed to dig deep and find her way to rescue.

  Sucking in a breath and repositioning the bag on her shoulder, Cass stepped out of the clearing.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Her progress was slow going.

  The chains around her ankles felt like they were weighed down with bowling balls, and she barely managed a few steps before having to stop and take a breather. Each step was like a marathon, and though she hadn’t come far, she was certain she was already lost. Everything looked the same—identical trees and fallen logs, and patches of moss or bundles of ivy. Clumps of brambles caught her skin and clothing, branding her with scratches. Clouds of midges followed her, reminding her of those cartoons where the main character constantly had a black raincloud hovering above their head. Absentmindedly, she clawed at her skin, so used to the constant itch of mosquito bites now that she barely even noticed them. She wasn’t even sure she was heading in the right direction. She was going to go from dying in the clearing to dying out here without even the murdered women to keep her company. She might die while being only a matter of a short walk from rescue, only for the pilot of the plane to never have known she was there.

  “Help!” she shouted, though her voice was weak. “I’m over here! Please, help me.”

  How long had it been since she’d heard the plane land? She’d lost her ability to tell the passing of time. There were moments where she wasn’t even certain she was conscious, her mind drifting off into thoughts, until she snapped back to reality and realized she hadn’t connected with the real world for a while. Still, she continued to call out. She had no idea if anyone could hear her, but if they did, it might give them an idea about which direction to head in. She might not be physically capable of finding the plane, but whoever had been flying it could still find her.

  Her hand throbbed, and she kept it cupped to her chest, not wanting to risk banging it against a branch or rock. Every bump or jolt was like someone had poured liquid fire over her hand, and she was forced to pause, her teeth gritted, tears in her eye
s, until it faded back to a steady throb.

  She stopped to fish in the bag and pull out the remains of the bottle of water. She took a couple of sips and forced herself to put the lid back on and put it away again. As much as she wanted to drink it all, the thought of being out here with no water again was enough to make her conserve it. She considered another Twinkie, but decided on the trail mix instead. The snack would contain protein as well as sugar from the M&Ms and the dried fruit.

  Cass kept going, tossing handfuls of fruit, nuts, and candy into her mouth as she walked. She didn’t think she’d ever appreciated how good food tasted before now, and she doubted she’d ever eat anything again without being truly appreciative for having it. The trail mix was a hell of a lot better than bugs. In between chewing and swallowing, she continued to call out and listen for any sign of either people or the plane. Was it possible that she’d gone in completely the wrong direction? She’d tried to keep the sun on one side of her, but this deep in the woods, the tree coverage was enough to block it.

  She had to skirt around a large boulder with a crack down the middle, and then a fallen tree trunk. Was this the same tree trunk she’d fallen over on the way out here? It might have been, but then she didn’t remember the boulder. That didn’t mean it hadn’t been there, of course. She’d been drugged up and terrified at the time, so there was a good chance she didn’t remember every part of the walk up here.

  Or you’ve made a horrible mistake and are walking in completely the wrong direction?

  The chains around her ankles had chaffed her skin raw, so every footstep hurt. They grew heavier with every passing minute, and she wished she’d put more effort into finding the key to unlock them. Her walk was barely more than a shuffle, her feet dragging through the carpet of dried leaves.

  A male voice suddenly cut through the buzzing of insects and twittering of birds.

  “Hello? Is someone there?”

  Her heartrate skyrocketed. Had she heard that? She wasn’t imagining things.

  “Yes! I’m over here.” She gave a sob of relief. “Please, I’m hurt. I need help.”

  She picked up her pace, hurrying in the direction she’d thought the voice had come from. It must be the pilot of the plane. She was dizzy with anticipation.

  The person called again. “I’m on my way. Hang in there.”

  She stumbled and staggered in the direction she’d heard the voice coming from. Was someone really going to help her? She almost couldn’t believe it was happening. She felt like she’d been alone forever.

  Her vision was blurry, but movement came up ahead. She heard the crack and crunch of someone moving through the trees and bushes. For a moment, she thought of the bear and prayed it wasn’t him, but then she reminded herself that bears couldn’t talk.

  A figure emerged through the trees, and Cass yelped in relief. The man was in his forties, with a baseball cap pulled down over his forehead. He was of a medium build, with thin lips and serious dark eyes. He frowned at the sight of her.

  “Please, you need to help me,” she cried, falling toward him. “I was kidnapped by a man. He brought me here and was going to kill me. He chained me to a tree, but then he died. I almost died, too. I’m bleeding. I need help.”

  She was aware she was babbling, the words pouring from her lips. Other than the imaginary women, she’d hadn’t spoken to another person in days.

  The man stopped short, his eyes widening. His gaze flicked up and down her body, eventually alighting on her face. “My God.”

  Cass fell against him, grappling his arms to hold herself upright, all the strength going out of her legs. His hands were on her arms, helping her.

  “A man’s dead?” he asked. “What man?”

  “I don’t know his name. Only that he’s been killing women, and I would have been next.”

  Her rescuer still had hold of her. He hooked one arm across her back to clutch her opposite shoulder, and wrapped his other hand around the biceps of her other arm. “Come on. I need to see what you’re talking about.”

  He turned her around, and then they were moving again. He was taking her back to the clearing.

  Panic exploded through her.

  “No, please. I don’t want to go back there.”

  She tried to pull back on him, but she was weak and unsure of herself. This was the first person she’d seen for days, and she needed for him to help her. She didn’t want to anger him so that he decided she was more trouble than she was worth and abandoned her out here.

  He didn’t even pause or glance down at her as he spoke. “I have to see what you’re talking about, or we might not be able to find it again.”

  She didn’t want to find the clearing again. But the women were all buried there, and their families all had a right to know the location of the final resting places of their loved ones. The police would need to know, too, and it wasn’t as though she could give them directions. She didn’t even know their current location.

  “Please, I need—” she tried again, but he interrupted her.

  “It’s not far. It won’t take long.”

  He marched her back the way she’d come. She stumbled but he held her upright. This wasn’t how she’d imagined her rescue going. Why weren’t they headed back toward the plane? She understood that he needed to know where the place was so he’d be able to describe its location to the police, but surely knowing it was within a certain distance from the landing strip would be enough, wouldn’t it? She really didn’t want to go back there. Not only was she struggling, physically, but she was also unsure if she could cope with coming face-to-face with the Magician’s body and that fucking tree all over again.

  “Are people searching for me?” she asked between gasps for breath. He was moving too quickly for her, so she was forced to shuffle her chained feet. “How did you know to come out here?”

  “I spotted you from the air.”

  He’d been surprised to see her, but not glad or relieved. This man hadn’t been out here searching for her, she realized. He’d come out here with a purpose, but that purpose hadn’t been to look for her.

  They stepped out into the clearing, startling a couple of crows who’d been picking at the body, thinking, mistakenly, they’d been left in peace. The birds let out caws of annoyance at the interruption, wings flapping in the air as they took off into the trees to call out their irritation from a lofty height. With dismay, she realized how little progress she’d made on her own, and how slowly she’d moved. Of course, her ankles were still chained, and she’d been through hell, so it was hardly surprising. She must have walked in a big semi-circle when she’d been trying to find the plane, and he’d just cut straight across the shortest part.

  She swallowed hard at the sight of the Magician’s body lying on the ground. Flies buzzed and swarmed around the body. The stink of death permeated the air, and she turned her face away. She hadn’t realized how bad it was when she’d been chained here, but now she’d gotten a taste of fresh air again, the stench made her nauseated. She’d hoped she would never have to see this place again, and yet here she was, right back here, only perhaps only an hour after leaving—she couldn’t be sure of the time.

  Her rescuer still had hold of her, and he firmly guided her toward the body of the Magician. They stopped together, staring down at it. Flaps of skin had been torn from his face, exposing pale flesh below—the result of the crows’ meal, she assumed.

  “Ah, shit,” he said, frowning and shaking his head. There was a strange resignation in his tone, as though he’d just come across a neighbor’s cat found dead in the road after being hit by a car.

  She dared to speak, but her voice came out as a strangled whisper. “Do you know him?”

  He gave her a strange look. “No, of course not. Why would I know him?”

  She stuttered. “I... I don’t know. I’m not thinking straight.”

  Cass glanced over her shoulder, back the way they’d come. “Can we go now, please? I need to go to the hospita
l.”

  She almost said she needed to go to the police and stopped herself just in time. She had the innate feeling this man wouldn’t like to hear any mention of the police.

  Her mind whirred.

  His plane... he must have landed exactly where the other plane had touched down. He said he hadn’t come here searching for her, and that he’d spotted her from the air, which meant he’d come here for a different reason. Had he already known that small strip of land existed, or had he seen it from the air as well, and spotted the other, now abandoned aircraft?

  But then he’d walked directly to the clearing, and he’d known it wasn’t far, even though she’d never told him the distance. These woods spread for miles, and he could have headed in any direction. Only, he hadn’t. No more than an hour had passed since she’d heard the plane land, which meant he hadn’t wandered off course, or dallied, wondering where to go. Even if he’d spotted the clearing from the air, surely he would have still spent a little time finding it.

  But he hadn’t. He’d come directly here.

  Cass’s blood ran cold.

  He’d already known about this place. He hadn’t known he’d find her here, but he’d known what else was here. And there was only one way that was possible, and that was if he’d been here before.

  She struggled to keep hold of her grip on the world, sensing her reality trying to tug away, like an unruly child pulling on the hand of a stern mother. She became aware of how hard his fingers dug into her shoulders, of how rigid his body was beside hers. Maybe she was wrong, and this man had nothing to do with the deaths of the other women. Maybe he was genuinely here to help her, and that he only wanted to get a lay of the land so he could report it back to the police. But alarm bells jangled inside her, so loud she couldn’t hear herself think. The way he’d touched her, grabbing her arm and pulling her along, hadn’t been the caring embrace of someone who was worried about a woman out here alone in the middle of the woods. He hadn’t asked how she was or made any attempt to offer her anything to make her feel better.