by J. A. Kalis
I need to outsmart them, Sandy decided, after some consideration. She had to find out where they were right now and sneak around noiselessly, behind their back, to a place they had just checked. By repeating the manoeuvre, she could stay out of their reach. Maybe after some time they would get fed up with searching and leave.
Suddenly, a noise reached her ears. It sounded like gravel crunching, followed by heavy breathing. Her body tensed. She was wrong. One of them was close by.
She squeezed her body even more tightly into the corner, wishing to become invisible.
The noise stopped. Again, silence fell.
She waited, trying in vain to slow down her rapid, shallow breathing.
A few more minutes elapsed, feeling like eternity.
Nothing happened. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just the wind blowing. Or her nervous mind playing tricks on her.
Could she make a move now? Was it safe?
Making as little noise as possible, she crawled towards the exit. She was about to peer out when, again, she heard the sound of gravel crunching, followed by a sharp intake of breath. Before she even had time to retreat into the far corner of the dank chamber, a strong hand yanked her hair in one violent move. She yelped with pain, then bit on her lower lip.
‘You crazy bitch. So stupid of you to think you could get away from me. No way. Big mistake wanting to play games with me. You really pissed me off. How dare you waste my time and energy? You’re going to pay for it. Pay dearly.’ Lucien pulled her hair again and again, each time harder than before, while his other hand closed around her arm and hauled her to her feet.
‘Please! Stop! You’re hurting me. I promise I won’t do it again. I’ll do what you want. Wait, we can talk—’
He looped an arm around her throat and held it so tightly she could barely breathe, let alone finish her sentence.
He pressed harder. ‘Talk? You must be joking.’
Pain exploded in her head. She gasped and struggled to draw air, desperately clawing at his hands, writhing, then punching him wherever she could reach.
Her sight faded. Panic seized her. That was it. She was about to die.
Just then she heard another pair of footsteps and Corinne’s slim figure appeared at the corner of her blurry vision.
‘You’ve got her at last. Let’s get it over with now. This place is perfect. Nobody’s going to find her here.’
Lucien’s grip on Sandy’s windpipe loosened a bit and she managed to gulp some air into her sore lungs.
‘Yes, you’re right. This place is perfect. Behind the village I saw a ridge which falls away steeply on both sides. We can throw her down there, make it look like an accident. Just in case anybody ever finds her body.’
Sandy stiffened with fear but tried not to show it. Slowly, Lucien removed his arm from her neck and fumbled in his jacket pocket. The knife glinted in his hand. He pressed its sharp tip against her back.
‘Move on and don’t try any tricks. Don’t push my buttons. Otherwise I’ll use the knife right away. There is no way you can escape us here.’
A sense of bitter resignation crept over her. She shivered, feeling a sudden icy chill. She walked with heavy steps across the abandoned village, her two enemies following so closely she could feel their breath on her neck. She stayed silent. She had nothing to say. Words were of no use. They wouldn’t listen.
She had to try something, she had nothing to lose.
They’d almost reached the crumbling house when Sandy spun around and with one swift move knocked the knife out of Lucien’s hand. Instinctively, he bent down to pick it up. Not wasting a second, she sprinted forward.
Fear deserted her, and a strange calmness replaced it. He was going to kill her anyway; she had to make this last attempt to escape. Even if she knew she didn’t stand a chance. It was better to die trying.
But before she had even gone a few metres, he caught her in an iron grip. She thrashed her legs around wildly and clawed at his muscular arms, but this had no effect on loosening his grasp. It became soon clear that any struggle was pointless.
Instantly, she stopped fighting. All strength left her. All hope, too.
Then, all of a sudden, pain exploded in her abdomen. She looked down just in time to see him thrust the knife blade into the soft flesh of her stomach. A few seconds later he retrieved it and plunged it one more time, a bit higher and deeper, leaving it there. Warm crimson blood welled up from the two wounds and oozed between her white fingers that were clutching her belly, colouring them red.
She stumbled but didn’t fall. Not right away.
He hauled her firmly against his chest and dragged her towards the ridge. Corinne joined him and helped him move Sandy’s slack body.
They stepped onto the narrow ridge jutting out from the surrounding meadows. They walked slowly, careful not to lose their footing.
Lucien tore off Sandy’s daypack and searched her pockets. After he’d made sure he hadn’t missed anything of value, he pushed her body with all his force. Corinne helped him.
Sandy’s eyes opened with terror and her blood-stained hands flared in the air desperately looking for something to grab on to, as she began to tumble down the steep, rocky slope.
CHAPTER 2
After spending hours staring at his computer screen, Patrick was exhausted. His report wasn’t finished yet but he needed a break. His mind was a jumble and he could hardly think straight. The words danced before his eyes and he had to reread sentence after sentence a dozen times before he understood them.
Trying to relieve some of the pressure that had built up behind his eyes, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and his forehead. It didn’t help.
Disheartened, he saved the file he was working on and closed it. It was pointless to persist any longer. A quick glance at the time displayed in the lower right-hand corner of his screen told him he had an hour and a half left before his workday was over.
A dull throbbing ache at the back of his head made him wince, and it got worse with each passing minute. Before long, it had radiated down his neck and into his shoulders.
Maybe a cup of coffee would do me good, help clear my mind, he thought. So he stood up and went to the coffee machine in the hall.
A few moments later he returned to his desk carrying a steaming paper cup filled with coffee, careful not to spill the hot liquid. Only then did he realize how quiet the office was. He hadn’t seen anyone in the coffee area nor in the hall. Not that it really surprised him. It was Friday afternoon and most of his colleagues, eager to start the weekend, would have left early. He usually liked being in the office when it was quiet. With no one to interrupt him, he could concentrate on his tasks and get more things done. Usually, but not today. Today, something else was on his mind.
He sat down, opened his private email account and checked his inbox. It had become almost an obsession. Since first thing that morning he had examined it at least ten times.
Once more, he scrolled through the incoming emails. There was nothing from Sandy. Disappointment and confusion crept into his face, distorting his handsome, regular features. He stayed still a few more long minutes, staring blankly at the screen, waiting for a message to materialize. But nothing happened. Dismayed, he turned his gaze towards the window, staring absently at the crying sky, grey and gloomy. Raindrops were hitting against the glass before pooling and forming tiny rivulets which then made their way down the windowpane. The weather perfectly matched his mood.
Why doesn’t she write? Why doesn’t she call? he kept asking himself.
The last message his daughter had sent him came two days ago. Since then, nothing. No contact whatsoever. No calls, no emails. It wasn’t like her. From the day she had left for Georgia, she’d called or emailed them every day, telling them where she’d been and what she’d done, describing all the wonderful places she visited, and attaching photos.
Until two days ago.
He’d tried to contact his daughter himself, sending countless emails, texting her and call
ing her phone, but he received no answer. Every time he called her number, voicemail kicked in. He was tired of leaving messages, begging her to give a sign of life.
Patrick ran his left hand through his thinning hair and sighed deeply. Sandy’s sudden silence worried him. He tried to find a plausible explanation for it.
What if something bad has happened to her? What if she needs help? he thought. Help I can’t provide because I’m here, so far away.
All he could do was sit, wait and pray for her to be fine.
It wasn’t enough. He clenched and unclenched his fists, feeling his frustration rising.
Maybe she’d had an accident or become ill. Maybe she’d been taken to a hospital, and was unable to use her phone or tablet. His mind refused to imagine a more sinister scenario. She couldn’t be dead. Not her. She was a strong, independent girl who loved adventure and wasn’t afraid of new challenges. An intelligent and reasonable person. She knew how to handle herself in tough situations. And besides, it wasn’t the first time travelled. A couple of years ago she had visited New Zealand, Mexico and Thailand, though on each trip she’d been accompanied by one or two of her friends.
This time, however, she hadn’t managed to find anybody she knew who wanted to go walking in the Caucasus Mountains. Aware that travelling alone in a country as unstable as Georgia was dangerous, especially for a young, blonde, attractive-looking girl like Sandy, she had checked websites designed for people searching for like-minded travel companions. She had even posted her own request on a few of them. A few people responded and, having carefully considered all the options, she chose two travel mates: a young French couple called Lucien and Corinne. They both loved mountain hiking and were willing to go with Sandy to the Caucasus.
Sandy had sent her father some photos of the three of them together. Lovely photos with beautiful mountain landscapes at the background. No, no, she had to be fine. No need to panic. Maybe there was a perfectly simple explanation for her silence. In the last email she’d sent, she told him they were headed up the mountains. Maybe they’d decided to stay for a few nights in a place with no network coverage.
Yes, that must be it, Patrick reassured himself. A sensation of relief swept over him. His neck and shoulder muscles responded and started to relax. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to let go of his worries and relieve the tension further.
There was still over an hour left before he could go home, so he decided to try to work on his report again. The deadline was looming.
First, however, he called his wife, to see if she’d heard from Sandy. His restless fingers fished his mobile out of his pocket and quickly pressed a few digits. Then, holding the phone to his ear, he waited.
As if sensing his impatience, Karen answered on the second ring.
‘No, she hasn’t called me … I haven’t got any messages from her, neither has Carol … Yes, I asked her … No, no missed calls. I checked.’ She sounded as worried as him.
After finishing the call, Patrick’s headache got worse. Once more dark thoughts crowded his mind, swirling like angry bees and stinging viciously from time to time.
He opened the top drawer of his desk and rummaged in it, looking for painkillers.
All he found was an empty box. Exasperated, he decided to call it quits for the day. His report had to wait.
Fatigue took hold of him. It was hardly surprising, considering he’d slept very badly two nights in a row. Both nights, he’d lain awake in bed for a long time. And when he finally fell asleep, he was troubled by bad dreams and woke up with a start a couple of hours later, not managing to drift back to sleep. He’d tossed and turned until the morning light filled the bedroom and the alarm clock went off.
Now he could only vaguely recall his bad dreams, just a few fragments, like hearing someone whisper in his ear that something terrible had happened without specifying what, or having a strange sensation of falling down a bottomless pit. Oddly enough, since the moment he’d woken up, he couldn’t shake the dreadful feeling that the nightmares were some sort of warning that Sandy was in trouble.
A quarter of an hour later, Patrick closed his office door and headed towards his car, stationed in the car park behind his company’s modern glass and steel building. It was raining so hard that his jacket was soaked by the time he reached the vehicle. He took it off and threw it on the back seat. Quickly, he stepped into the car and started down the road in the direction of home.
Suddenly, he remembered that tomorrow was Karen’s forty-sixth birthday. On Sunday they were going to celebrate it with some friends. He had almost forgotten. And he had neglected to get her a gift. At the next intersection he turned his car around and headed to the nearest shopping mall.
It was late when he finally arrived home. Karen was sitting on the sofa in the living room, watching TV. She didn’t even turn around when he entered the room; she seemed to be fully absorbed in the programme. All he saw at first was her shoulder-length, straight dark-blonde hair splayed and flattened against the back of the couch. Only when he got closer, did he get a better glimpse of her face, realizing her slightly puffy eyes were just staring absently at the images flickering on the screen.
‘If you’re hungry there’s some lasagne in the oven. I think it’s still warm. If you want I can make you some salad.’
‘Lasagne is just fine.’
After he’d finished eating in the kitchen, Patrick joined Karen on the sofa, slumping down beside her. Up close, he noticed how drawn and haggard her face looked. She too mustn’t have slept well last night.
‘What do you think’s happened to her? Why hasn’t she called or written?’ Karen didn’t take her eyes from the screen.
‘I don’t know, honey. I don’t understand it myself.’
‘Something bad must have happened to her. Is she dead? Tell me she isn’t.’
‘Don’t expect the worst. Maybe she’s in an area with no network coverage.’
Karen switched off the TV and turned towards him. ‘She wrote or called every day. It’s not like her to keep silent for so long. Why did she choose such a strange destination? Why such an unstable country? I told her it was too dangerous, but she wouldn’t listen.’
‘You know she loves adventures, honey. She always likes the unexplored, off-the-beaten-track places. She’s just the kind of girl who follows her passions. The Caucasus seemed like the perfect destination for her. And don’t forget, she was wise enough not to travel alone.’
‘So maybe something bad happened to all three of them.’
‘Stop torturing yourself.’ Patrick paused. ‘I had a busy day today; I feel exhausted. I think I’ll have an early night. Have you got any sleeping pills?’
‘Take a look in the bathroom cabinet. There must be a few left.’
Patrick moved closer to her, hugged her tightly and kissed on the forehead. He made a faint attempt to console her. ‘Don’t worry, she’ll come back.’
He stood up and headed for the bathroom. As he was about to open the door the shrill sound of his mobile phone broke the silence in the room. A quick look at the display told him it was his other daughter, Carol.
‘Dad, she sent me an email!’
‘Sandy?’
‘Yes, but … I don’t know … the way it’s written. It seems wrong, not at all like her.’
‘Wrong? What do you mean?’
‘Read it yourself and show it to Mum. Check your inbox. I forwarded it to you a few minutes ago. I’ll speak to you after.’
Patrick hung up and went to his laptop, switched it on and clicked the email icon. Karen joined him and they stared at the screen in anticipation. There were four unopened emails in his inbox, the one from Carol at the top of the list. He clicked it open.
Hi,
I’m going to travel further, visit Armenia and then Turkey. So I’ll be very busy and you won’t be hearing from me soon. But don’t worry about me. Don’t try to contact me. I’m fine. I have lovely time.
Bye, Sandy
It didn’t sound at all like Sandy. It wasn’t the way she wrote; the text was too short. Her emails were always very detailed. Besides, she would never tell them not to contact her. She knew they would worry if they didn’t hear from her for too long. Before she’d left for Georgia, she had promised she would contact them every day.
‘I don’t understand it, it doesn’t make any sense at all. She doesn’t say why she didn’t write, gives no explanation. It’s just not like her.’ Karen looked perplexed.
‘So you think she didn’t write this message. Someone else wrote it?’
‘I think so. Don’t you? What does it mean Patrick?’ She stared at him expecting answers, her eyes full of anguish.
‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’
‘I can’t shake this feeling that something bad has happened to her. I know something is wrong. I can’t say why but I just know. What should we do? Please, tell me.’
‘We mustn’t jump to conclusions too quickly. I’ll call her again and reply to this email, tell her we’re worried and want her to call, ask why she changed her travel plans. We’ll wait and see what her answer is. We can’t do much else at the moment.’
‘Shouldn’t we notify the police or contact the British Embassy in Georgia?’
‘Not yet. It’s too early for that. There’s no need to panic. Let’s calm down and wait a few more days.’
Not caring that the hour was late, he made repeated attempts to reach Sandy on her mobile. Each time, her voicemail picked up. He didn’t think she’d be asleep. She wasn’t an early-to-bed kind of girl. He returned to his computer and replied to Sandy’s email, hoping she’d reply to it soon.
The sleeping pill he took helped. He was able to sleep through the night. What’s more, he didn’t have any bad dreams, or if did he couldn’t remember them in the morning.
***
Throughout the next day, his distress increased. Karen too seemed to be beside herself with worry. Even his birthday gift – a fashionable silver bracelet and a new fragrance from Dior – didn’t manage to brighten much her mood.