Scare Me (12 page)

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

 

 

At 2.14pm, Anwar Imam walked into Will's office.

“Working on your own?” The question was as genial as his expression, but his dark eyes audited hers.

She looked past him to where Nissa was seated. “I told you I couldn't see anybody.”

“Don't blame Nessa.” He always got her name wrong. “I barged my way in.”

She watched Nissa bite her lip. She'd seemed even more concerned when she'd arrived to find Carla wearing the same clothes as yesterday. They'd both obviously guessed something was wrong.

Anwar closed the door on Nissa's expression with the weight of his tall frame. He was wearing a casual, yellow paisley shirt that perfectly accentuated the dark pigment of his skin.

“Anwar, I didn't expect you to call in.”

Anwar nodded his shoulder length black hair and cupped his fingers over his nose as he considered the office and her obvious discomfort at his presence. Egyptian by birth, he was an unrepentant anglophile. He followed Will's lead when it came to property. His own Georgian investment lay only six miles from Easton Grey.

“Where's Will?” He zoned in on the abstract sculpture on Will's desk and frowned at it as if doing so would allow him to continue his casual interrogation.

“Weekend off. I'm still chasing my tail trying to get firm commitments to the trans-African feasibility study.” She tried to sound overworked, but realised justifying her presence was suspicious.

“So why do you desperately need to tap my limited knowledge of the late Holt Amberson?” He moved to the desk, picked up the sculpture and pretended to weigh it. His bergamot aftershave wafted over her.

“Will's had some overtures from someone at UG,” she lied. “The story piqued his curiosity.”

“So much so you tried to reach me at three different numbers on a Sunday morning.” He put down the sculpture, a plea for honesty in his gaze.

“Anwar. We've been friends a long time...”

He nodded, blinking his long, dark eyelashes. His expression didn't alter.

Carla knew Anwar wanted to become much more than that. He was as hopeless with alcohol as Will and his customarily diplomatic mouth had got loose from its moorings on more than a few occasions.

She'd told Will about his overtures, but he'd laughed it off, saying it was a huge compliment that an eligible bachelor of Anwar's status was pursuing his wife. She'd never told him everything that Anwar had said, however. Why ruin a friendship when Anwar's designs would remain just that? “We're in the middle of something here.” She held his gaze. “If we need help, you know you'll be the first person we come to…”

“You already have.” But the harsh line of his eyebrows softened. “You didn't sound your usual self on the telephone. Sorry to intrude, but I had to drive into the office this afternoon anyway and we – I – was concerned.”

Carla assumed he'd meant Nissa. Had she told him something was going on?

“Thanks, but this is something we can deal with ourselves.” She nodded quickly to indicate he should do the same.

He didn't. “OK,” he said eventually. “If you need me though, you know where to find me.” His eyes glinted with the significance of the statement.

“I'll let Will know. He'll be very grateful.”

Anwar nodded respectfully. “When will he be back?” He looked around, as if Will had just stepped out.

He obviously hadn't bought her story about him having a weekend off. It was the point at which Carla nearly told him everything. “Soon.” She darted her eyes at the website page and Anwar could tell she was eager to return to it.

He scrutinised the back of the screen. “OK. I'll tell you everything I know about Amberson and UG.”

 

Will's mobile rang seconds after the house became active.

 

Bel Air,
 
 

Maryland,
 
 

YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO
 
 

 

“I've seen it,” he said, as soon as he picked up. He could hear Carla's fingers rippling on the keyboard.

He clicked inside the cut out and found another clandestine gallery. The interior looked brand new – ceramic tiles, maple cabinets and ethnic tapestries on the walls. In the hallway, anoraks were hung on coat hooks in descending size order, one large blue, one slightly smaller red…

One infant's yellow.

“It's about a fifty minute drive according to the online map.” Carla had pre-empted Will's search. “Anwar just turned up at the office.”

Will knew Anwar preferred face-to-face dialogues, particularly where Carla was concerned. “Did you manage to get rid of him?”

“He seemed suspicious, but he gave me some background on Amberson. Didn't have anything we don't already know.”

“I've already got a cab standing by at reception.” The driver had been there since six. It was now 9.34am. He quickly disconnected the laptop and headed for the door.

 

Weaver jogged up the steps from the lot and waited impatiently for the sliding doors to slowly open. “We've got to move!”

“Can we finish this later?” Pope indicated the pink triplicate forms laid on the desk between him and the car rental guy. They'd opted to hire a vehicle whether they needed it to drive interstate or directly back to the airport. A lot of Ellicott was closed early Sunday so they'd bided their time outside until an old boy had opened the place up.

The septuagenarian looked impassively up from his computer monitor with bloodshot eyes.

Pope's gaze dropped to the desk where the keys lay. He could snatch them up and be out of there before he had time to rise from his chair.

“Bel Air! They're close!” Weaver hovered in the doorway.

But then with the licence plate details and all the info Pope had already given him it wouldn't take long for the police to catch up with them. Maybe before they even got there. Aside from the channel, the cops were the last people he wanted to talk to. By the time they found a cab on a Sunday morning they would probably be done here. Probably. Pope balled his gut and forced a complaisant smile. “Could we please just hurry this along? I'm from TV news.”

Nothing registered

“And we're in the middle of an emergency situation.”

“Sure.” The old boy continued to process Pope's details after taking a long, loud slurp from his coffee mug.

 

Will seated himself in the back of a battered, red Ford Fusion and relayed the destination to the driver. He'd been anticipating another cab ride to the airport. Now it struck him that if he used a taxi to take him directly to the specific location the police could trace him back to the hotel he was picked up from. He'd used his credit card when he'd checked in.

He also wondered if the detailed coordinates would be given to him as soon as they got there. He didn't want to ask the cabby to drive round in circles or waste time switching taxis. He'd be better off with his own vehicle. He glanced at his watch and calculated how much time he would lose while they drove to a car rental. They were outside town so there was no knowing where the nearest one would be.

“How much money do you earn from fares in a day?”

The brawny, young cab driver raised one faint eyebrow at him in the mirror. His head was shaved so close the small amount of blonde hair growing over the tattoo of tumbling dice there was just a golden sheen. “Three fifty…” he estimated. His voice sounded too small for his physique. Then his eyes narrowed. “Well, I guess between three fifty and six hundred…thereabouts.” He could scent an offer.

“Any chance you could call in sick?”

He turned briefly, a smile inflating. “You've already racked up a couple of hundred bucks while I've been waiting, now you want me to drive you round for the day?”

“No. I want to borrow your car.”

Both eyebrows raised now.

“And I want you to make a decision about this quickly. The arrangement remains between the two of us. I'll pay you six hundred. I need this car to drive to Bel Air, but I promise I'll leave it there afterwards. You'll have to pick it up.”

“How do I know you won't rip me off?”

Will elaborated rapidly. “You don't. Look, I could pay a lot less for a day's car rental, but I need to get to where I'm going right now. Life and death. I've got six hundred in cash and I don't have time to barter. If you want it, pull over. You can give me your cell number and I'll tell you where I've parked it.”

Tall willow oaks whipped by for a moment then the driver turned sharply into a truck stop. He started scribbling his number on the back of a cab card. “You'll have to let me have it back by tonight. I sleep in it.”

Will left the driver behind as light rain started to settle on the windscreen. The laptop was open and booted up on the passenger seat. He turned off the cab's radio and followed the route to Bel Air that had already been programmed into the Sat Nav. Carla called to say she was following him on the GPS.

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

 

The painfully skinny man in the jagged denim shorts rose from his chair and turned in Tam's direction. Tam ducked out of sight. His body was concealed in the gap between the back wall of the chicken house and the stack of empty cages. Three had been dumped bottom side out in the middle of the row and it was these that concealed his position. Several chickens had come to investigate, pecking around his bare legs while he bit his fist and his eyes watered, afraid that even the sound of him blinking would give away his hiding place.

He watched Skinny Man stride casually through the chickens in his sandals, a cackling path opening in front of him until he was near the bottom of the steps. His Malay features were pale and waxy, like he spent all of his time down here. He turned, scratching his navel through his greasy yellow tee shirt as if having second thoughts about something. He then seemed to think better of it and climbed.

Tam heard the door open and close and was grateful Skinny Man hadn't turned off the light. If he hadn't though did that mean he was coming back? He breathed through his mouth again and allowed the muscles at the back of his legs to relax.

Tam didn't know why he'd returned here. Something had bumped the corrugated gates of the yard when he'd been about to scale them. The impacts had sent him scuttling back down the alleyway and he'd circled the building several times before he plucked up the courage to clamber back over. He'd peered into the yard first. There'd been no sign of whatever had pushed at the gates, only a handful of grubby yellow chickens that had climbed the ramp from below.

The sliding door had been half open, but he wasn't sure if it had rolled there after his escape the previous night. As he'd edged into the chicken house, however, he'd registered the light was on and knew for sure he'd switched it off.

He'd panicked when he'd seen the cage overturned and empty and had expected her to pounce. Then he'd seen her lying flat on the bottom of another cage on the far side of the churning floor space. Her ankles had been bound with the same blue washing line wire that secured the hood to her head. The soles of her feet were scraped and bloody and when the chickens that shared her space pecked at them she hadn't reacted.

He'd inched closer to see if she was still alive. Then he'd heard somebody coming down the stairs. The stack of cages had been nearer than the exit so he'd quickly ducked behind them. Skinny Man had appeared carrying a wooden chair in one hand and a bottle in the other. Tam had observed him plant the chair carefully in front of the cage and sit down. The girl had moaned and eventually started to talk. Tam hadn't understood what she'd been saying, but knew she'd been pleading. Skinny Man had just watched, swigged out of the bottle and occasionally checked his phone.

Tam crept from behind the stack and picked up the brown Singha beer bottle. It was empty now, but it would serve as a weapon if Skinny Man reappeared. Having listened to the girl sobbing and choking for the half hour he'd stood with his knees trembling he no longer felt threatened by her. But as he moved closer to the cage and knelt by the door he was still glad to see the large padlock that secured it.

Her back was to him and he could see her shoulders rising and falling with her breath. The hood lifted as if she sensed his presence, but it fell again and she said nothing.

Tam watched her, not speaking, but sure she knew he was there. He didn't know how many minutes passed before he heard Skinny Man on the steps again.

This time he easily covered the distance between the cage and the sliding door and headed back up the ramp.

He launched himself at the corrugated gates, but as he dropped safely down the other side, Tam forgot about the beer bottle he'd left by the cage.

 

The countryside had opened up, presenting Will with a panorama of cinereal skies. He passed through another toll and took US 1. The information in the pop up box remained unaltered. He knew it would until he got to Bel Air. The pain in his gut fizzed like a dissolving tablet.

As the car rapidly gobbled white lines and moved him steadily closer to the unknown address, he wondered if he should refrain from calling the mobile number until he was at the town centre. At least then he would be able to get to the house quicker. But what if it was on the outskirts?

How close to his arrival had the family been murdered in Ellicott City? Hours before? The website had intimated that he may be able to beat them. Should he dial the number prior to getting to Bel Air? If it was believed he'd got there sooner than anticipated it might cause them to panic. The address would only be released to him when they were good and ready though. Any phoning ahead to warn the occupants of the house would be academic by then.

There was nothing he could do to influence the sequence of events. Still he kept his foot on the accelerator and drove as fast as he felt he could without being pulled over.

Bel Air was a busy, happening retail town in Harford County with spotless malls and restaurants. Will called as soon as he hit Main Street. As his cab crawled to a halt behind a snarl up of traffic, a familiar noise greeted his ear.

“I'm in Bel Air. Will you let me speak to Libby?” He pleaded rather than demanded this time.

Birds shrilled and shrieked.

“I can't go on with this until you've given us some proof she's alive.”

There was another sound over the discord, something rubbing against the mouthpiece the other end. They were listening to him.

“Please, put my daughter on.”

Another harsh impact.

“Daddy?” a voice whispered.

Will's finger froze on the mouse pad of the laptop.

“Daddy?” it said louder. But it wasn't a word she'd used for a long time. It wasn't Libby. It was a man's voice, raised several octaves to ape a female.

They put down the phone. The information in the box embellished itself.

 

114 Pepperwood Springs,
 
 

Vineyard Oak,
 
 

Bel Air,
 
 

Maryland,
 
 

21015
 
 

 

This time he was ready and opened up the window for the directory that would allow him to locate the house's telephone number with the address. He swiftly dialled the one that appeared in the results and the ring tone seemed ear splitting. Cars behind him beeped their horns as the line in front of him accelerated away.

“Hello?” It was a woman's voice.

Will's mouth opened, but his warning melted on his tongue. If they escaped he wouldn't be able to secure the next item of Libby's. More horns jabbed at his other ear.

“Hello?”

“Get out of the house.” He had to close his eyes to say it.

“Who is this?”

“Just get out of the house. Trust me on this.”

“Are you trying to scare me? Not until you tell me who you are.” But the tone of her response wasn't right. She sounded like she was mocking him.

“Get everyone out now and call the police.”

“So sorry, Mr Frost, I'm in the middle of something,” she said politely and hung up.

Will pulled away from the clamour behind him.

He was in no doubt. It was the same voice that had woken him at home. He threw the phone onto the seat as if it were part of her.

He was sure her accent was American, but some other nationality was evident in the accelerated cadence of her voice. Whoever she was, would she be waiting for him when he got there?

He dismissed the idea of calling the police and dispatching them to the address. Even if they took her into custody, Libby would still be at the mercy of the other person holding her.

Every particle of him recoiled from his new destination, but he had to go on. He caught up with the cars in front and reprogrammed the satnav. When the traffic surged, he took his next left and accelerated in the direction of the house where his name had just been uttered. He wondered if anyone else there had heard her say it.

Pepperwood Springs was out of town but only three minutes away. Will followed the satnav directions onto the Bel Air bypass and turned off into a quieter suburb. The houses there were spaced out around the perimeter of a small wood and neatly trimmed lawns fronted each property.

He parked in front of 114 and pulled on the gloves. Despite the light drizzle in the air, the sudden warmth of the morning accentuated how stone-cold he felt inside. Next door a pensioner, wearing an orange raincoat, was doing circuits on a sit-on lawnmower. He looked up to squint at Will over the top of his spectacles. Will avoided eye contact and walked up the slight incline of the driveway. The old man vanished behind the cover of a cypress tree as he reached the front door.

He knew better than to linger at the front and walked straight down the panelled side of the house and found himself at the back porch. He turned slowly to look down the length of the garden to the fenced off trees at the end, dreading the discovery of another human sculpture. However, a cushioned swing chair, a flattened kids' paddling pool and a leaf covered trampoline were the only things positioned on the lawn.

A sound returned his attention to the porch. A dog's whimper? The screen was closed, but he could see the back door was open wide. He remained rooted at the foot of the four steps leading up to it and listened. The noise came again. No dog. It was like somebody painfully drawing breath. Was she still here? Discovering the bodies was unbearable. Was he now expected to witness their last minutes?

He wanted to run now. Back down the side of the house and across the lawn to the old man. Tell him to call the police and wait until they arrived and went in ahead of him.

But he slid Libby's cheap bracelet up his wrist and held it in his palm like a talisman. Will lifted his right foot and placed it on the step.

The lightweight screen rasped as he swung it towards him. He was looking through the open back door into a kitchen he'd already seen – maple cabinets, dried lavender bunches hanging from the ceiling and corn dollies braided around the cooking alcove. There was a vague smell of baking in the air.

Will heard the sound again. It was indisputably human and female, a grunt through teeth or something covering the mouth.

DINNER'S READY WHEN THE SMOKE ALARM GOES OFF was the sign on the door leading to the house beyond. He moved silently across the tiles and stopped in front of it. He slid a boning knife from the block. Will knew he couldn't use it, even if he believed he was capable of stabbing another human being. His task was to collect the items from the houses. He couldn't interfere with what happened to their occupants.

He cracked the door and peered into the spacious, airy hallway. Daylight spilled in through the glass front entrance and a skylight had left the faded squares of its windowpanes in the centre of the bottle green carpet. The three doors to his left were closed. He strained his ears and waited for the sound. Something hissed and he registered the small cloud of vapour that had emerged from the electronic air freshener on the telephone table.

He moved through the door, but his attention was already fixed on the group of family photos hanging on the wall. He quickly scanned them for Libby's face. She wasn't there. But there was a black-framed picture at odds with the space around it. As he stepped closer, he confirmed the image had been screwed to the plaster in the same way it had been in Ellicott City. At first he thought it was some abstract piece of chalk art, white and blue configurations on black. He bent to it, discerning numbers in its top right corner, a date and a name.

It was Libby and Luke's scan. The one they'd had done on June 29th when she'd been eight weeks. The kidnappers knew she was pregnant.