The Knapthorne Conspiracy

by Malcolm Ballard

  His idea was to arrive at Bella’s on the Saturday morning, around 9am. By that time, hoping she was home, she would have been up and unlocked the doors. If for any reason they were still locked, he was quite happy to force an entry. Willow Cottage was still without an alarm system as the company hadn’t responded to Bella’s messages and they’d still not been out to see her. There was no way he was going to risk another spectacular failure, like last time. It was that damned place he was sure of it so he’d taken steps to improvise an alternative and was using the company van. The thought of her consumed him, her voice talking to him constantly, teasing him, mocking him and belittling his manhood. Ever since that night the memory of her naked body and the musky, exotic smell of her had tormented him by day and haunted his dreams, taunting him with his inability to satisfy her. The bitch needed to be taught a lesson for making fun of him and he drooled at the thought of it. Spurred on by the prospect of what was in store he pushed the van to its limits, speeding down the motorway towards Knapthorne in the light, early morning drizzle.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Bella had thought she was going to pass out and had risen, unsteadily, to her feet stumbling in her efforts to flee from the suffocating atmosphere of the room, desperate to get out in the open air. Absolutely dumbstruck she had left the house, with its bitter legacy of hatred and family strife, without a word to Frank Allsop, her mind in turmoil. Reaching her car she had leaned against it taking calm, measured breaths, never more glad to touch something solid, reassuring and reliable, a much-needed reminder of a constancy in her life. Kyle Lucas was her half-brother or something damned close! Patrick Foxton was his father even if Patrick wasn't her own. The thought of what had so nearly happened in the cottage sent a wave of nausea through her and she unlocked the car, eager to put as many miles between herself and Thornden as quickly as possible.

  Driving away she thought she’d caught a glimpse of the old man peering at her from a window, probably wondering what on earth was going on. All the way back to Knapthorne she couldn’t stop thinking about the events of the past few days and how the wheel had turned full circle bringing the murky past of Patrick Foxton right to her own doorstep. Overriding everything else was the knowledge that she couldn’t stay at Willow Cottage any longer not with its past history and the memories of Kyle Lucas and she had burst into tears at the thought. How could she live under that roof any more? There and then she had decided that that night would be her last and she would leave the following day. The tears had continued to flow, blurring her vision, as she recalled the first time she had seen the cottage and how grateful she had been to her Uncle Foxy. Uncle Foxy. Her father, Rupert Foxton, Lord Easterbrook. What, if anything, had he known of all of this, she wondered? Surely he would have been ignorant of it all otherwise he would never have left her the cottage. Oh, it was all too sad! Her thoughts had returned to Frank Allsop and she couldn’t help thinking how life had been so hard on him. The memory of his spectral features at the window came to mind, as she approached the outskirts of Knapthorne. Whatever had he done to deserve so much grief and heartache?

  Sleep eluded her that night. It had been impossible for Bella to switch her mind off as it continually replayed scenes from the past two months. Faces, places, highs and lows flashed into her mind, lingered, and went again just as quickly but there was a dark sense of foreboding underlying her inability to sleep. It was rooted in the reality of Ruth Flint’s murder which had taken place only a few yards away from where Bella lay. Knowledge of the deed disturbed her, not surprisingly, and she had found herself suddenly scared at being in the cottage alone and alert to every little noise. But what distressed her equally as much was the feeling that there was unfinished business related to the saga of Patrick Foxton. Instinctively she knew that it wasn’t over but her weary brain couldn’t summon up the energy to put a name to her fears. When dawn broke, Bella had trouble remembering what day it was and it took her a while to work out it was Saturday then she had gone down and made herself a coffee. Unusually, Ubix was nowhere to be seen and in her befuddled state she took it for granted that everyone and everything had deserted her. So what, she reminded herself, I’m outa here. In the past, if she’d have risen at this time she would have made an early start on the book but that was the furthest thing from her thoughts. Thinking that she might doze if she took her drink back to bed she did exactly that and slept through until eight-thirty. Feeling like something Ubix might have dragged in she eventually struggled out of bed, returned downstairs and pulled the curtains only to find that it was raining and, by the look of the sky, it was more than just a passing shower. On any other day she would have at least unlocked the front door but something made her hesitate then decide against it. The clock on the wall in the kitchen showed the time was approaching a quarter to nine as she put her empty mug in the sink. Lack of sleep had left her jaded and listless and she couldn’t wait to go up and have a shower. It might have been her imagination but she swore that she could smell the cigarette smoke from yesterday, probably from her hair. Bella shivered at the thought, pulling her robe more tightly around her, even more eager to get into the shower. Looking in the bathroom mirror, a few moments later, she felt as though the woman peering back at her had aged about ten years recently which only added to her general air of feeling sorry for herself. With a long face she hung up her robe then stepped into the shower longing for its efficacious powers to do their work. Realising this would be the last shower she would ever have at Willow Cottage she allowed herself the luxury of staying under it for longer than usual, wallowing in the pleasure of being clean from top to toe. Much to her annoyance, as soon as she got out Bella felt the urge to go to the toilet and blamed it on the coffee as she seated herself. One of the things she had been meaning to get looked at was the toilet cistern, an ancient device of dubious heritage that made a noise like a rampant steam engine as it refilled. She stood up with a sigh and pulled the chain, the resulting hiss and roar amazing her, as always. Briefly, Bella thought she’d detected a new noise, no doubt signs of further deterioration, but whatever it was the effect had been only temporary and she put it out of her mind.

  Out in the back garden of Willow Cottage, Kyle Lucas froze as the sound of the breaking window was much louder than he’d anticipated. His arrival in the van had attracted no attention and he’d left it parked next to Bella’s car with its rear doors open. He was on a high, the adrenalin pumping, as he trod softly across the drive making for the front door, all the time talking to her under his breath as she urged him on with lewd obscenities. She couldn’t be far away now and the thought of her naked body beneath him, squirming and struggling was sufficient to arouse him and he grinned in the knowledge that there’d be no repeat of before. The door had been locked so he’d gone around the back then heard the sound of the shower through the barely-open bathroom window. It was going to take courage to break in but the thought of her in the shower, only yards away, gave him all the impetus he needed. Perspiration lined his brow as he drew his arm back, the large stone gripped firmly in his hand, but he had hesitated before taking the final step and sending it through the window. Hearing the toilet flush was like a signal and, without a second thought, he had launched the rock on its way.

  Coming out of the bathroom, dressed in a clean robe and with a towel wrapped around her wet hair, it was impossible for her to avoid looking up the hall towards the doorway of the small bedroom. In doing so Bella rekindled the feeling of apprehension that had disturbed her the night before, only this time it was much stronger. Something was telling her that she wasn’t safe in the cottage, that she should get out without delay. Panic seized her, instantly displacing the tiredness and lethargy of moments earlier, as she dashed into her bedroom desperate to lay her hands on anything she could wear. To her horror, the sliding wardrobe door had stuck in its runner and the more she pushed the more firmly it became wedged. Immediately she began to perspire as her heart started to pound. Her jeans and skirts wer
e in there! Suddenly her hand slipped and she caught a fingernail, breaking it.

  “Oh, fuck it!” she cried out loud, in desperation. “Come on, open, damn you!”

  “Now what sort of language is that for a lady?” She whirled around, terror flattening her against the wardrobe doors as her eyes locked onto Kyle Lucas and the large kitchen knife in his hand.

  “Kyle…” It was all she could manage to say and it came out as a small, strangled sound bringing a smile to his face.

  “What’s up, Bella? Not frightened of me are you?” Her heart was beating fit to burst and she had never been so scared in her life. The thin material of the robe began to cling to her where she was wet with perspiration and she could see the effect it was having on him, his eyes greedily feasting on the sight of her breasts and stomach.

  “What do you want?” If that wasn’t the dumbest thing she’d ever said, she knew it had to come close and shut her eyes, momentarily, in an effort to try and think clearly. Kyle laughed at her words derisively, his intention blatantly obvious and she nearly wet herself as he lightly ran a finger along the kitchen knife’s razor-sharp blade. His face took on a sympathetic look.

  “Poor Bella!” He spoke quietly, soothingly, in the way one might talk to an injured animal. “Are you frightened I’m going to hurt you?” Kyle began to advance towards her holding the knife out in front of him and Bella started to shake. Even though she was gripped by indescribable fear, an image of Frank Allsop trying to get the cigarette to his lips came to mind and she, giggled nervously. This is your half-brother, a voice screamed in her head but her jaw was trembling so badly she couldn’t even speak, let alone yell at him. Then he was in front of her, the knife under her nose, and he could smell the fear on her. Kyle put his face close to hers, their noses almost touching then she shuddered, involuntarily as she felt the feathery touch of his hand between her legs. Clamping her lips and eyes shut, she tensed as his fingertips moved up and came into contact with the firm roundness of her breast, moving on to softly tease the nipple. Bella wanted to scream, to scream like she’d never screamed before but she knew it would be useless. There would be no-one to hear her and she finally broke down at the thought.

  “Now come on, Bella, we’re friends aren’t we? What are you crying for? Just be a good girl and do as you’re told and you won’t get hurt.” Had Patrick said the same words to Ruth Flint, before strangling her? It was like the past had come to life, she realised. Was it her meddling with the past that had brought this upon her, a case of history repeating itself. Like father, like son. The words echoed in her head as Kyle raised a hand and she flinched, blinking rapidly, thinking he was going to hit her.

  “My, we are the nervous one, aren’t we?” He took hold of the end of the towel wrapped around her head and loosened it. “I only wanted to see your beautiful hair, Bella.” As he pulled it away it fell around her shoulders, still damp, and she resisted the urge to flick her head and shake it off.

  “I want to see all of you, Bella.” There was something eerily menacing about his voice, almost as though it were someone else speaking. With one swift movement he cut through the belt of the robe. Automatically, Bella moved one hand down, the other across, in an attempt to cover herself as it fell open.

  “Naughty, naughty!” The chastisement appeared to amuse him. “Kyle makes the rules this time.” As he spoke, he forced her arms to her sides, then raised the knife to her face. “And don’t you forget it!” He stepped back a pace so that he could get a better look at her and Bella made to cover herself again.

  “Uh, uh!” Kyle said, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I just want to look at the goods first.” She almost collapsed then. From the moment she’d heard his voice she knew her fate was sealed. He had to come to rape her.

  “Come on then,” he requested, holding out a hand. “We’re going to take a little walk.” Falteringly, she took a step away from the wardrobe and took his hand, unbearably conscious of her nakedness. An awful thought crossed her mind, filling her with renewed dread.

  “Where are we going?” Bella thought she sounded like a child being taken on a mystery trip but, for a second, no more, relief flooded through her as they turned in the opposite direction from the small bedroom, Kyle leading her towards the stairs.

  “All in good time, you’ll find out. Just keep moving and no more questions.” When he took her over to the lobby and unlocked the door, Bella couldn’t understand what was going on. For some unknown reason she felt less terrified by the prospect of being outside but realised that was ridiculous. It was her and him and he was the one with the knife. Rape was rape whether it was indoors or out. Now that she was in no doubt as to what was going to happen, a cold acceptance of the situation seemed to buoy her up. The irony struck her that only two weeks ago this was the man she had invited for the weekend of her own free will. As she stepped outside, into the lightly falling rain and saw the van his intentions became plainly obvious and all her fears came rushing back, rooting her to the spot. If he was going to kill her afterwards all he had to do was drive off and dump her body where he chose.

  “Ingenious, don’t you think? Now you can look forward to the time of your life!” Kyle gave her a gentle prod in the back to get her moving, his eyes glued to her flowing tresses, rounded buttocks and smooth, shapely legs. Hardly able to contain himself it was all the evidence he needed that there was going to be no question of a problem and he gave her a not-so-gentle shove this time, eager to get on with it.

  When she saw inside the van, Bella went weak at the knees but Kyle grabbed an arm, to support her. The entire floor was covered with plastic sheeting which could be easily disposed of.

  “Can’t have you fainting, now, can we?” he said with mock concern. All hope had suddenly left her. Now she knew there was to be no escape her fear had surprisingly subsided too. At random times in the past, Bella had sometimes wondered how her life would end. It was usually a fleeting thought, probably after having seen, or read, news of a tragedy, dismissed as soon as it had entered her head. How could she have known it would come to this?

  “In you go!” he commanded her roughly, indicating the small step and she climbed in awkwardly, trying to preserve the last shreds of her modesty as Kyle watched. Only when she was inside did she see the two loops of rope fastened to the bottom batten which ran along the left-hand side of the van. Kyle hopped up, still holding the knife in a threatening manner and turned her so that her back was facing the loops then forced her to the floor. In no time her wrists were securely fastened and he squatted down next to her, putting the knife on the floor.

  “I should gag you but I don’t want to be disappointed.” His lips were right next to her ear. “I want to hear Bella Foxton enjoying herself so don’t be afraid to let yourself go!” He was so close, flecks of spittle landed on her cheek and she fought the urge to try and wipe them off. Kyle got up, closed the doors and turned the handle, shutting them firmly, but decided against locking them. What was the point? He stood over Bella for a moment, transfixed by her beautiful body, his eyes taking in every detail of her but lust got the better of him and he hurriedly stripped off his jacket, discarding it on the floor. She had adopted a cold fatalism towards her situation and it was as though the life had already ebbed out of her. Whatever he might do she would not respond. It would be like making love to a sandbag. If he was going to kill her anyway, what did it matter? It would be her silent protest. Bella closed her eyes and Maria’s face appeared causing her to smile, pleased that they had seen each other so recently. Kyle saw it and smiled, in turn, as he unbuttoned his shirt.