The woodland branches above, covering them like a canopy started to spin. Her mind continued to fight and struggle but her body stopped as a paralysis took hold and rendered her limbs helpless. Feelings of terror vanished and were replaced by a void of nothingness.
No fear. No panic. Just black.
Chapter Three
She was perfect. So small and delicate and helpless. He had seen the fear in her eyes and he knew immediately his plan would be easy to fulfil. No one would suspect him. No one would think him out of place. He watched as he circled the streets, past the bus she usually caught and the girls she would do anything to avoid. He parked on a side street. From there he saw everything; the bullies, Grace hiding behind the wall, the direction she walked when she finally plucked up the courage to move. He was invisible.
He paused at the entrance to the park and watched her go inside, then continued to drive until he reached the other side, parked and went inside. How many people were around? How far away were they? It was familiar surroundings and today threw no differences to any other day, just the odd dog walker taking advantage of the last remaining light. The pathway was clear of people as he entered through the top entrance leading out onto The Avenue and no one saw as he diverted from the path and continued his journey through the woodland. Masked by dwindling light and wide tree trunks he made his way to the edge of the copse, waiting to see which of the many footpaths she would take. Her small, fragile physique would pose him no problems and an excitement grabbed him as she turned off the open area onto a woodland path.
He moved swiftly, crouching, stalking, and waiting for the right moment. He stopped, still as a statue every time she paused to look around whenever she heard the rustle of his movements through the brush. The same anxious apprehension filled her eyes as he observed her through the cover of bushes.
“Keep going. Just a little further,” he whispered to himself.
His target continued to walk along the path in the direction of the exit onto Croom’s Hill unaware he was following behind her, slowly gaining. He checked his pocket as he had already done numerous times but this time he pulled the object out and carried it in his hand. The time was rapidly arriving. The perfect time he had planned so well for over two months. His plan would become a reality and his problems would soon be over. He stopped and crouched down as she paused and turned, once again seeing the glint of anxiety filling her eyes, and it gave him a surge of power.
He pulled off the plastic cover protecting the needle on the syringe and stepped onto the tarmac path, the soles of his trainers ensuring his footsteps were silent. He quickened his pace, so she wasn’t forewarned and strip him of his advantage.
Closer.
He watched the slight sway of the plait in her dark hair as it hung over the top of her coat. A rush swept over him, clearing his nose as he inhaled and caught the faint smell of her soft perfume in the breeze. They were in between the lighting, in the darkest area. A few more paces and the light from the next lamp would expose them both. He sensed her pause as she noticed his shadow and he checked his mask was in place one last time, then lunged.
It was easy. The struggle was easy. A slight feeling of panic took over his excitement as her body went limp and his awareness turned back to his surroundings. Squatting by her side, he listened and watched from behind the undergrowth for any witnesses as the last shades of daylight were finally swamped by the black winter sky. Grabbing under her arms he pulled her deeper into the woodland and out of sight from anyone who might walk past. Feelings of accomplishment and pride filled his chest and regulated his fast heart beat as he removed his mask and walked casually out of the exit, leaving her hidden. The car was too far away and exposed on the roadside but he already had this covered in his plan.
The boot of his vehicle was prepared and he smiled as he pulled into the flow of traffic and followed it back to the park’s exit. Pulling a few metres past, he calmly put the car into reverse and manoeuvred through the wrought iron gates, stopping a few metres down the path. He sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, watching in his rear view and wing mirrors for anyone approaching, then casually stepped out. Two twigs placed in a cross marked the spot and when they came into view he turned off into the woodland. Fourteen paces in and he arrived at the large fern. Three more paces and the faint, motionless outline of the girl appeared just as he had left her.
He picked up her school bag, placing the strap over his head and across his body. Then he picked her up. Her head hung limply over his arm as he effortlessly carried her through the undergrowth, pausing once more to check for witnesses before making the few steps from the woodland to the car. This was the most dangerous part. If anyone were to see him carrying her and placing her in the boot, the plan would fail. An icy cold sweat flushed over him as an acute awareness of his surroundings once again invaded the forefront of his mind.
A bang echoed in the distance as someone let off a firework from the celebrations over a week ago and he paused. An emptiness filled the air confirming they were alone and he stepped out onto the path, popping the boot open as they neared the car. She easily fitted inside curled up in a foetal position, her school bag tucked behind her knees.
He exited the park and once again joined the flow of traffic, checking his speed so the impatience of reaching his destination didn’t cause him to go over the limit. It was a six-minute journey to the abandoned flats at Deptford only a mile away. There would be no roadworks and no detours, it had been precisely calculated. By the time anyone realised she was missing, she would already be locked in the basement.
Turning off the road and onto the derelict site, he got out, unlocked the padlock and opened the security fencing. The car rolled in and he reminded himself to secure the gate behind him before continuing over the bumpy rubble. The hard part was over and he breathed a sigh of relief as he parked out of sight at the rear of the building. Within minutes he had carried her down the two flights of stairs which led to the boiler room and had placed her down on the mattress to check her pulse.
“Good,” he whispered, removing a glove and stroking the side of her face. “You’re going to be fine. I’m going to look after you, just for a while.”
He cuffed one of her hands to the pipe running along the wall behind her and tilted back her head. The vein in her neck was prominent and he slid the needle in, pushing down on the syringe to administer the antidote. She stirred, and he stroked her hair as she let out a sudden gasp.
“What happened? Where am I?”
Her eyes were wide, taking in her surroundings and not registering anything familiar.
Who…who are you?” she asked, her voice weak and groggy.
He studied her face with its fine, almost porcelain, features as her mind pieced together the last memories and revealed her horror.
“Please. Please don’t hurt me. I’ll not say anything if you let me go. I promise,” Grace pleaded.
“Shhh, calm down. I’m not going to hurt you,” he replied.
“Why am I here? Where am I? I have to be home, my parents will come looking.”
He smiled beneath his mask as the predictability of her words gave him the opportunity to deliver his well-rehearsed reply.
“No one will find you here, so don’t bother screaming.”
“Why are you doing this?”
Another smile flickered around his lips beneath the mask.
“I can’t tell you that, Grace. It won’t be for long. Just until I get what I want.”
She tugged at the handcuff, trying to break free but with no chance of escape. Pity washed over him as he watched her trying to free her tiny wrist, her emotion moving him on an unpredicted level and he reached forward to stroke her hair. She recoiled. Terror flashed across her tear-filled eyes.
“Don’t touch me,” she screamed. “Keep away.”
He pulled his hand back, denying himself the urge to soothe and calm her and he sat down on the floor at the foot of the mattress. Slowly, Grace st
arted to calm as she accepted there was no escape.
“Please don’t rape me,” she whispered, her words choppy from her crying.
“I’m not going to,” he replied. “Here, have some water, you must drink.”
He opened up a small bottle of mineral water and crouched down beside the mattress. Her eyes were tired and red from crying and he carefully slid his hand behind her head as he offered up the bottle to her lips.
“You’ll be hungry. I’ll be back soon with food.”
He started to walk to the door and the panic Grace had felt came rushing back.
“You can’t leave me here,” she screamed. “Don’t leave me here alone.”
Her words fell on deaf ears and she watched in terror as the heavy, dark oak door closed and she heard the sound of the padlock clicking. She pulled at her wrist until it was bleeding and swollen still handcuffed to the pipe. Being left alone somehow felt worse than her kidnapper being there. When would he come back? Would he come back at all?
A blanket was laid crumpled by her feet, kicked off when she had struggled, and Grace worked it up the mattress with her feet until she managed to reach it with her free hand. Coldness surrounded her despite the portable Calor gas heater warming the air. A coldness which emanated from within her as she shivered uncontrollably in the silence.
How long have I been here?
She pulled at her sleeve with her free hand to check her watch but her wrist was bare.
It must have come off when he attacked me.
Her heart sank. It had been a birthday present from her parents and the worry of them being cross with her for losing it plagued her irrational thoughts.
“Elspeth’s recital,” she whispered. “I’ve ruined everything.”
Still weak from the drug used to knock her out and shaking from shock, she huddled into a ball, closed her eyes and cried.
Chapter Four
Julie Dalton paced around the small kitchen to calm her anger.
“Where’s she got to?” she hissed under her breath as she checked the clock on the wall for the umpteenth time.
Elspeth was blissfully unaware of her mother’s mood as she practised her cello in the living room to her father as he read the newspaper in his favourite chair.
“That’s very good, Elspeth. Play like that tonight and you’ll have a good chance of getting the scholarship.”
Tom Dalton rested the newspaper on his knee and looked over the top of his glasses when she had finished the piece of music and gave her a smile.
“We better look at setting off soon,” he said, checking his watch and frowning at the realisation his other daughter hadn’t returned yet.
He huffed and pushed himself up from his chair, casting the paper onto the coffee table and making his way through to the kitchen.
“Where’s Grace?”
Julie shot him an angry look and shook her head.
“I knew she’d do this,” she snapped. “If she messes this up for Elspeth then she can forget any more ballet classes.”
Tom looked at the kitchen clock, then at the window lit up by the reflection from the kitchen lights.
“I’ll give her ten more minutes, then I’ll bring her home myself. She’ll not like that when I turn up in front of her friends.”
He returned to the living room, making sure to conceal his concern from Elspeth as she chattered on about the music academy she dreamed of attending after the summer. Although Elspeth had his looks she had her mother’s temperament and he had become skilled at tuning out of the constant talking while his thoughts were elsewhere.
Grace was the opposite and had inherited his quiet yet determined, sometimes stubborn personality. He knew his daughter as well as he knew himself and was well aware her tardiness this evening may well be her way of proving a point. Since Elspeth had been chosen as a candidate for a scholarship to Westfield’s Music Academy it was all they seemed to talk about. He had noticed how withdrawn she had been lately, letting Elspeth’s constant teasing about her lack of height dash her hopes of attending the college for performing arts.
Time crept by, and soon the ten minutes had elapsed and Julie appeared at the living room door, her face framed with a thunderous expression.
“Not back, then?” Tom mouthed, trying unsuccessfully to avoid alerting Elspeth.
“What?” Elspeth interrupted. “Isn’t Grace back yet?”
Julie and Tom glanced at each other and stayed silent.
“I knew it. She’s doing this deliberately so I miss my recital.”
Elspeth stormed out of the room and stamped up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door.
“I’ll go and have a look for her,” Tom said as he put on his full-length navy wool coat over his suit. “Shouldn’t be long.”
Setting off into the night, Tom scanned every street as he retraced the route his daughter usually took. There was no logic or plan. No best friend to call on to see if she was tucking into her tea at their house. He was searching blind and, despite being an analytical man, his emotions overtook his reason. His feet carried him further along the route, pausing at every passageway he passed as he peered into the darkness.
Where is she?
Eventually, he reached the top of the last street leading to Crooms Hill and he stopped as he visually scoured up and down the footpath. The road was full of cars, their headlights and tail lights dazzling as they crawled along bumper-to-bumper in the congestion of rush hour. Yet above the noise, Tom felt a stillness, as though the traffic was somehow distant. It was a silence he had only ever experienced once. A unique silence which only appears when something terrible has happened, and his mind flashed back to the cold winter’s evening when the car crash happened. In the space of a few seconds, he recollected the pain of his broken leg as he clawed himself out from the ditch. Cars crumpled and smashed, steam puthering into the frozen air from the radiators and the same eerie, almost surreal silence surrounding him as he approached and tried to free the passengers.
The crash had happened years ago, not long after he had passed his driving test. He had been a late learner, not taking driving lessons until he had been well into his twenties. Inexperience combined with black ice conspired, forcing him into a head on collision which killed the other driver instantly. A freak accident. A moment of lost control and in a split second, lives had changed forever.
A powerful shiver coursed through his body and he closed his eyes and shook his head to cast off the memory. But as his eyes conveyed a usual Friday evening, his stomach tightened as the feeling persisted.
“Something’s not right,” he whispered into the scarf wrapped around the bottom of his face.
Up and down the street, his eyes scanned everyone and everything, absorbing every detail for some anomaly he might have missed. The entrance to Greenwich Park, appearing as a black hole grabbed his attention.
Surely not. She’d never walk through there on her way home, would she?
A curiosity submerged his senses, drawing him across the road as he weaved his way through the stationary cars queuing for the traffic lights to turn green, till he reached the open gates. He paused at the entrance, transfixed by the dark pathway intermittently lit with low wattage lighting. The unexplained silence which had surrounded him since reaching Croom’s Hill now more powerful than ever. No one would walk through there in the dark, would they? Fear tussled with his mind as he tried to mentally explain it away, putting it down to an overactive imagination, but still it persisted. Propelled forward by the need to find Grace, he walked inside and followed the path until the first light was directly above his head. Dazzled, he placed his hand to his forehead to shield its glow and scanned around.
“Grace,” he called out.
Maybe he was being silly, why would she walk this way home? Doubts nagged him as he moved further along the woodland path, hoping the unnatural silence and tight feeling in his chest would leave him alone. Darkness descended upon him, the light now several metres behind and he p
ulled out a small torch from his coat pocket and shone its weak beam into the woodland. A rustling sound caused him to spin around.
“Who’s there? Grace, is that you?”
He gripped the torch, his hands clammy from the stress of the adrenaline blasting through his body and causing his heart to beat hard and fast. Standing still, his feet glued to the path, he waited. There it was again. A rustling in the undergrowth. He shone his torch at the area, half expecting to see some beast or monster from one of his childhood nightmares and he let out a sharp gasp when two bright green eyes briefly stared back at him, reflected by the light.
“For God’s sake, get a grip,” he scolded himself. “It’s a bloody wood full of animals.”
He walked a few steps further and shouted out Grace’s name once more, pausing as he waited for even a faint reply.
“This is stupid. You’re letting your imagination take over again, Tom,” he huffed, and he turned back towards the entrance to Croom’s Hill and started to make his way back. “She’s probably at home watching TV by now.”
Burrowing his face into his scarf, he focused downward and started to retrace his steps, but he had not got far when something in the grass by the edge of the path glinted in the torchlight. Normally he would have just walked past but something about this object, whatever it was, drew his attention. Crouching down, he shone the beam at the tuft of grass and pushed it aside.
“Grace’s watch.”
The confirmation she had walked this way home and something had happened to her rushed at him, bringing with it a sense of panic. He shone the torch into the woodland brush.
The Death of Me Page 2