by A J McDine
CHLOE
Chloe’s iPhone burst into life on the other side of the room. Adam sprang to his feet and rootled through a cardboard box by the door. His handsome features remained emotionless as he pulled the phone out, checked the screen, and tossed it back into the box. Chloe felt a stab of despair as it fell silent.
‘Was it my mum?’
He gave a curt nod and pulled out something else. A red satin dress, the folds of fabric as silken as water. Holding the dress in his outstretched arms, he crossed the floor and knelt in front of her again.
‘Ralph Lauren,’ he said. ‘Only the best for my girl.’
Chloe took a deep breath. ‘You should have let me answer my phone. She’ll be frantic.’
Adam shot her a quizzical look. ‘Who will?’
‘My mum.’ Chloe could only hazard a guess at the time, but it must have been at least seven. ‘I should have been home from school hours ago.’
He shrugged. ‘So?’
‘You don’t understand. Mum’s such a worrier she’ll have probably reported me missing.’ Chloe bit the side of her cheek and looked Adam squarely in the eye. ‘I don’t want you to get into trouble with the police.’
He laughed without humour. ‘I’ll take my chance.’ He draped the dress over the back of a chair and began untying Chloe’s laces.
‘What are you doing?’ she cried in alarm.
‘Helping you change for dinner.’
‘I can do it myself!’
His eyes narrowed. ‘How do I know you won’t try to run away?’
Chloe swallowed hard and gazed at him with pleading eyes. ‘I won’t, I promise.’
‘Because there’s nowhere to go, darling girl. This place has been derelict for years. We’re surrounded by wooden hoardings and the only building within half a mile is Springett Court, and no-one there’ll give a toss what’s happening down here. So it’s pointless you even trying to escape, do you understand?’
Chloe nodded.
He sat back on his heels and assessed her. Chloe kept her expression as neutral as possible. After what seemed like minutes, he gave a quick nod. ‘OK. You change while I prepare supper.’
He reached into a Waitrose carrier bag for a knife and sliced through the tape binding Chloe’s wrists together. She bit back a whimper as she rotated her aching shoulders and massaged her wrists. Climbing stiffly to her feet, she scooped up the underwear and took the dress from the back of the chair.
She held it against her body and gave a half-hearted attempt at a twirl. ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you.’
‘The pleasure will be all mine,’ Adam said, a smile playing on his lips.
Chloe jerked her head towards a stack of tables near the back of the room. ‘I’ll change behind them. So it’s a surprise.’
Adam leaned forwards and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Chloe stood her ground, aware that if she flinched, he would know she was bluffing. But it seemed his arrogance knew no bounds. ‘Missing you already,’ he said to her retreating back.
Chloe squeezed herself between the stack of tables and the wall. She rested her burning forehead against the dank plaster, breathing deeply to chase away the terror. She couldn’t afford to lose her nerve. She needed to stay focussed. Clear-minded. She had to give the performance of her life.
She pulled off her Converse, one by one, dragged her dress over her head and peeled off her tights and pants. She slipped on the camisole and French knickers, hating the feel of the cold silk against her skin. Her hands were shaking so much the dress slithered out of her grasp, spooling like a pool of blood on the carpet tiles. She picked it up and yanked it over her head, not caring if it ripped. It fitted her like a second skin, and for a second Chloe wondered how much it had cost. Hundreds of pounds, probably. But the thought gave her no pleasure, it merely added to her growing sense of dread. What pound of flesh would Adam expect in return?
‘Well?’ Adam said loudly, making Chloe jump. ‘How does it look?’
Chloe closed her eyes, ran her hands through her hair, and forced herself to smile. ‘I’m not sure I do it justice,’ she said, stepping out from behind the tables.
Adam’s gaze was proprietary as he looked her up and down, his eyes lingering on her breasts. He sighed with pleasure. ‘Oh you do, Chloe, my love. You do.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘Come, sit down. It’s almost ready.’
He was by her side in an instant, taking her elbow and escorting her to the table. Chloe scanned the array of dishes. Smoked salmon blinis. Figs and parma ham sprinkled with Stilton. Goats’ cheese tartlets. A plate of gnarly oysters.
‘Food for lovers,’ Adam said, pulling out her chair. ‘I’ve chosen a cheeky Grand Cru for supper. Tell me what you think.’
Chloe took a tiny sip and forced herself to smile. ‘Mmm. Lovely.’
Adam busied himself laying a starched white napkin on her lap, letting his hand graze her thigh, before taking a seat on the opposite side of the table.
‘You’ve gone to so much trouble,’ she said.
‘Don’t sit there staring at it. Tuck in,’ he ordered.
Chloe’s stomach was knotted with anxiety and eating was the last thing she felt like doing, but she reached for a blini and popped it in her mouth anyway.
Adam nodded his approval. ‘What about an oyster?’
‘No, thanks.’ The creamy flesh inside the pearlescent shells and the faint smell of the sea was enough to turn her stomach upside down.
‘Nonsense,’ Adam said. He grabbed her wrist roughly and placed an oyster shell in her left palm. ‘They’re native oysters, fresh this morning. They’re a delicacy.’
‘But I don’t like them.’
‘Have you ever tried one?’
‘No,’ she admitted.
Adam cocked his head to one side. ‘So tell me, Chloe, how do you know you don’t like oysters when you’ve never even tried one?’
Because they’re slimy and yucky and gross and revolting and they’re just wrong, she wanted to say. Instead, she lowered her eyes and said nothing.
Perhaps Adam took her silence for acquiescence because he picked up a second oyster and smiled encouragingly at her.
‘Take the shucking knife and make sure the oyster is detached from the shell, like so.’ He picked up a small knife with a two-inch blade and a sturdy wooden riveted handle and eased it around the shell. ‘Hold the shell with the wide end towards your mouth and take a sip of the liquor.’ He demonstrated, wiping a trickle of the clear juice from his chin with the back of his hand. He grinned at her. ‘It reminds me of…’ he broke off and stared at Chloe with undisguised lust. ‘Let’s just say there’s a reason it’s considered an aphrodisiac. Go on, take a sip.’
Chloe stared at the oyster with trepidation, Adam’s gaze on her like the harsh beam of a spotlight.
‘Take the knife,’ he repeated, pressing the little knife into her right hand.
Chloe closed her fingers around the short, stubby handle and felt a flicker of something. Hope? Courage? With the knife, she could… But she mustn’t get ahead of herself. She couldn’t let him know what she was thinking. He was a narcissist, that was clear. He needed to believe she was under his spell.
‘Like this?’ she said, running the knife around the oyster’s shell.
‘Good girl,’ he said approvingly. He swiped the knife out of her hand, and Chloe's heart plummeted. ‘And now take a sip.’
Chloe held the shell to her lips and drank. The liquor tasted briny, almost metallic, like she’d accidentally swallowed a mouthful of seawater. It wasn’t pleasant, but it wasn’t totally disgusting.
‘And now the oyster itself. It’s a myth that you should swallow it without chewing. Think of an oyster as a grape. If you don’t chew the grape, you don’t get the full flavour. Here, have a squeeze of lemon juice.’
Chloe took a slug of wine and watched Adam eat his oyster. She eyed the rest of the plate. There were at least a dozen more arranged fastidiously around a quartered lemon.
At least six more times with the knife in her hand. Six opportunities to escape. She pressed the shell to her lips, tipped her head back and swallowed.
Chapter Fifty-Five
KATE
They reached the outskirts of the city just before half-past seven. One eye on the satnav, Kate navigated through the streets towards the university. Ben stared out of the window, his phone clasped loosely in his hand, his headphones in a tangle on his lap. For once, he wasn’t playing with the hem of his teeshirt or worrying at the neck of his jumper. Kate had never seen him so still.
‘My mum was only seventeen when she met Dad. Did you know that?’ he said suddenly. ‘She was eighteen when they married and nineteen when she had me.’
‘Still a girl,’ Kate said, half to herself.
‘I found their wedding certificate with her birth certificate and passport.’
Kate frowned. ‘She didn’t take them with her?’
‘They’re at the back of the filing cabinet in Dad’s study.’
‘Where was it she went again?’ Kate said, feigning indifference.
‘The note she left said she was going to Israel to work on a kibbutz.’ Ben scratched a spot on his chin. ‘But she can’t have because she didn’t take her passport with her, did she? Dad reckoned she’d been having an affair and moved away with her new bloke and the kibbutz was a red herring to keep him off the scent.’
‘And he didn’t report her missing?’
‘Why would he? She obviously didn’t want to be found.’
‘What about her parents? Weren’t they worried?’
‘They hadn’t spoken to her since she married Dad.’
‘And you never heard from her again? No birthday cards? Phone calls?’
Ben shook his head. ‘She forgot all about me.’
Before Kate had time to digest this unsettling revelation and what it meant, she saw a sign for Kingsgate University. She flicked the indicator and turned left onto the campus. Pulling up outside the new law school building, she faced Ben.
‘I want you to go to Jan Steel’s office to check Chloe and your dad aren’t with her. I’ll go to the old law school to see if I can find them there.’
‘But -’
Kate held up a hand. ‘No arguments. Give me your number. If I don’t phone you in…’ she checked the time on her phone, ‘fifteen minutes, I want you to alert campus security and tell them what’s happened. Have you got that?’
Ben nodded, his eyes fearful.
‘Good. Now go.’
He jumped out of the car and sprinted across the wide pavement to the entrance of the law school. Kate breathed a sigh of relief as he let himself in and disappeared up the stairs. She slammed the car into first gear and sped off towards the accommodation blocks and the old law school building, her heart thudding in her chest.
Chapter Fifty-Six
CHLOE
Chloe picked up her fifth oyster, took a deep breath and tipped its slimy mass down her throat, not bothering to chew. She had swiftly changed her mind about them. The first might have been just about palatable, but the second made her gag, and by the fourth, she’d have rather eaten a bowl of her own sick.
Adam reached across the table, grabbed her hand and began rubbing his thumb in a circular motion on the inside of her wrist. She fought the urge to snatch it back. She had to keep up the pretence. It was her only hope.
‘This is nice, isn’t it?’ he said, increasing the pressure. ‘I know it’s not the most romantic of settings for our first date, but needs must.’
‘You’ve thought of everything,’ Chloe said, her eyes sliding to the shucking knife, tantalisingly close on the plate of half-eaten oysters on the table between them.
Outside, the wind had picked up, blowing a chill draught through the boarded-up windows. She shivered.
‘You’re cold,’ Adam said, his voice full of concern. ‘My poor baby. Let me warm you up.’
He made to stand, but Chloe shook her head. ‘I’m fine. I’m still hungry. Can I have the last oyster?’
‘You don’t need to ask, my love.’ He passed her the knife, watching tenderly as she ran it around the shell. At that moment there was a loud tapping noise on the nearest window. Chloe froze.
‘What was that?’
‘Stay here,’ Adam ordered. He crossed the room in a couple of strides and pressed his ear to the plywood board. While his back was turned Chloe slipped the knife under her thigh.
The wind soughed, and the tapping began again. Adam shook his head and laughed. ‘No need to panic. It’s only a branch.’ He returned to the table, dragged his chair close to Chloe and slung his arm over her shoulder. ‘Now, where were we?’
‘Eating your delicious supper. I’ve decided you should have the last oyster. You’ve gone to so much trouble.’ Their eyes locked, and Chloe parted her lips. ‘Let me feed you.’
He pulled away, his pupils dilating, turning his brown eyes as black as coal. ‘If you insist.’
Chloe picked up the last shell. ‘I understand why you chose oysters. They are a very sensual food,’ she said softly, leaning forwards to give him an eyeful of her cleavage.
Adam nodded eagerly.
She reached out a hand to stroke his cheek. A half-moan escaped his lips.
‘Close your eyes and concentrate on the taste and texture.’ She traced his lips with her finger and then gently closed his eyelids. ‘I want you to tell me what it reminds you of,’ she said huskily.
Her eyes never leaving his face, Chloe’s fingers reached for the knife. Her hand was by her side, and she’d eased her thigh off the plastic seat when his eyes flickered open. Ignoring the flutter of anxiety in her chest, Chloe whipped her hand away, waggled a finger at him and gave him a stern look. ‘No cheating.’
Instantly contrite, he closed his eyes again, resting his hands on the table. ‘Sorry, my love.’
‘That’s better. Now,’ she said, picking the oyster shell up in her left hand while taking the knife in her right. ‘Open wide.’
Adam did as he was told. Chloe waited for a beat, raised her right hand and, as she tipped the oyster into his mouth with her left, swung the knife down in an arc, impaling his hand on the table.
Adam’s eyes flew open, and for a second, they stared at each other in shocked silence. Then he gave a howl of rage, grabbed the handle of the knife with his good hand and pulled it out. Quick as a flash, Chloe curled her foot around the leg of his chair and whipped it from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. She ran for the door, praying that by some miracle he’d left it unlocked.
‘You bitch!’ he cried, lunging for her leg as she raced past. But she danced out of his way, her eyes on the door. She heard him struggle to his feet behind her, his breathing laboured. Please be open, please be open, she intoned, reaching for the handle. When it turned in her grip, she could have wept with relief. Until a muscular forearm wrapped itself around her neck and pulled her backwards.
She squealed in pain as her arm was twisted behind her back, almost wrenching her shoulder joint out of its socket. Adam was panting in her ear. Warm, briny breath that made her recoil.
‘You stupid little cock-tease,’ he whispered, his voice heavy with menace. ‘That’s how you want to play it, is it? Have it your own way. But I’m getting what I want, Chloe. I always do. Don’t tell me I didn't warn you.’
Suddenly, the fight seeped out of her, and she went limp. Perhaps suspecting a feint, Adam tightened his grip until she feared he was about to snap her arm in two. He twisted her around to face him. His usually immaculate hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were crazed.
‘I know you want me, you little whore,’ he hissed. His mouth came crashing down on hers. Terror raced through Chloe’s veins like a shot of pure adrenalin, but she was rooted to the spot. It was no use. She would never be able to escape. He was too clever, too strong. There was nothing she could do.
Blood dripped from his hand as he forced her onto the carpet tiles. One knee on her sternum
and his left hand pinning her arms above her head, he yanked her dress up.
‘Please, Adam, don’t. You're hurting me,’ she sobbed. One last attempt to bring him to his senses. But her plea fell on deaf ears.
Chloe whimpered as he reached for his flies. Then she turned her head to the side and closed her eyes.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
KATE
Kate’s Mini screeched to a halt outside the entrance to Springett Court. She turned off the engine and looked around wildly. According to Ben, the old law school was close by, but all she could see in the inky blackness behind the accommodation block was the framework of trees lit by a couple of street lights.
The orange-tipped glow of a cigarette caught her eye. A boy not much older than Chloe was lounging against the wall of the accommodation block, smoking. Kate strode over.
‘Where’s the old law school?’ she demanded.
The cloying smell of cannabis filled her nostrils. The boy turned bloodshot eyes to her. ‘The wha’?’
‘The old law school. Where is it?’
The boy took a long drag and blew smoke into Kate’s face. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady. The only building down there is the one they’re about to knock down.’
‘Where?’
‘Follow the yellow brick road,’ he said, pointing to a narrow track leading through the trees that Kate hadn’t noticed. He gave a bark of laughter, which turned into a cough, then tapped his heels together. ‘There’s no place like home.’
‘For fuck's sake,’ Kate muttered, pushing past him. She turned on the torch on her phone to light the pitted and overgrown asphalt path. She jogged steadily along, following the wavering beam of light, and after a couple of hundred metres, the trees gave way to reveal a clearing, in the centre of which stood a shadowy building surrounded by wooden hoardings.
Kate slowed to a walk, careful to point her torch to the ground. She gazed at the crumbling concrete edifice. No doubt an architect had once considered it to be cutting edge. But the three storey building reminded her of the ubiquitous slab-like structures from 1960s Soviet Russia.