Scare Me (30 page)

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

 
 

Weaver staggered back down the muddy track to the car. “We've been fucked over!”

“What are you talking about?”

“There's a cabby parked up there. Frost sent him here with the phone.”

Pope closed his eyes and smiled resignedly. At what point had the phone been returned to Frost? It didn't matter. The decoy had served its purpose.

Weaver slammed the door and started the engine. “We've got to get back to the house.”

“Weaver…”

“That son-of-a-bitch.”

“He's protecting his family.”

“We can still salvage this.”

“I told you, we're not going in there.”

Weaver turned the car to head back the way they came. “Get on the phone.”

“Stop the car, Weaver.”

“Are you nuts?”

“Stop the car.”

Weaver accelerated.

Pope slugged Weaver once. A lucky shot. It was enough to put him out. The car coasted across the road and Pope yanked the wheel to stop them hitting the barrier.

Pope's fist buzzed. “You're right, Weaver. Dogs shouldn't chase cars.”

 

The revelation flooded Carla. Will already had a child. All those years of failed IVF and adoption screening before they'd brought Libby home at fourteen months old. All that time his daughter had been living and growing outside their world.

She'd moved behind them, was stood at their shoulders. They both faced front, not wanting to turn. Would they be found with their hands taped to their faces? Carla could feel the air from Poppy's nostrils caress her neck. She focussed on the mobile. It had been positioned there for a reason. Even if they were to die here soon, the mobile was significant. It gave them valuable seconds.

Will straightened and shifted forward in his seat, his body tensing. “Let them both go. I'm the one who abandoned you.” He spoke slowly.

Carla turned to him, but he didn't meet her eye, just kept staring at the mobile on the table. “Will, no.”

“Abandoned? No, my mother abandoned me,” Poppy said dismissively. “But Eva at least suffered remorse. Your existence continued unbroken. I absorbed all the impact for you while you gave Libby what I should have had.”

“I can't even conceive of what you went through.” Will closed his eyes.

Carla wondered what Will had been told. Or was he buying time to consider every dead option they had?

“But you don't have to.” Her voice sounded slightly louder, as if she was leaning between them.

He opened his eyes again. “But I thought that's what this was all about. Making us feel your pain.”

“No. Not you,” she said, as if he'd misunderstood the rules of a game.

The mobile buzzed, its vibrations making it move on the table. She reached past them, plucking it up. It passed Carla's face and she heard it beep. Then she felt its plastic pressed to her ear.

“Mum?”

The word undid her. Libby's hysteria burst at the same time. Sound bounced and echoed. She couldn't decipher the words through the distortion. “Speak slower, darling.” What could she say to her? “Speak slower, speak slower,” she whispered.

Libby's breath thundered against the mouthpiece. “They locked us in cages. I don't know what's happened to Luke.”

Carla screwed her eyes shut and saw his face. “Hush, we're both here, Libby. Dad's here, I'm here.”

“They drugged me. Then they tied me up and drove me round.” The words pumped out of her in between her sobs.

“Keep talking. Take it slowly. Where are you now?”

“They let me go. Left me outside the police station. But there's still no sign of Luke.”

Carla opened her eyes. “Say again?” She could sense the intensity of Will's gaze on the side of her face.

“They just dumped me here. I'm with the police.”

Carla gasped. Something burst inside her.

“I want to come home.”

She turned to Will. “She's safe. She's with the police.” She felt warmth on her face, saw Will's frozen terror blur.

But through their tears they both knew there would only be a short interval between the knowledge of this and realising what part of the design it was.

The phone was taken from her ear.

“Mum?” Carla could just hear Libby's tiny voice stranded in the earpiece before the call was cut.

“She was always going to be released,” she reassured them. “Now she'll know what it is to be alone.”

 

CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

 
 

Will rolled quickly away from Poppy to the other side of the couch. He found his feet and when his body turned he could see the sushi knife in her hand. Her fingers tightly gripped Carla's hair. “No!” He launched himself back at the couch, his weight pushing it back and crushing her behind it and the back wall.

Her body pitched forward, but she still maintained a firm grip on Carla, her wrist twisting her neck so it was exposed. Her arm circled to make the fatal cut. Will crawled quickly forward on the couch with his knees and headbutted her in the face.

Her body slammed against the back wall. Blood poured from her nose and over her lips, but she maintained her hold of the knife and jabbed the Taser at Will.

He twisted away from her as the edge of it glanced his shoulder. He anticipated the jolt, but only plastic connected with bone. The movement knocked it from her hand and he saw the Taser drop to the couch. He was teetering on the edge of the seat, his weight dragging him backwards.

He slammed hard against the floor, the impact to the back of his skull and the hands bound at his back winding him and inflaming the pain already there.

He sat up, agony blenching his vision, and found Carla had swivelled around on the couch and was now on her knees with her teeth in Poppy's wrist. Her mouth dragged the knife hand away so her other couldn't reach the Taser. Although Carla's hands were bound in front of her they were blocked by the back of the couch and pinioned there by her body.

Poppy screamed and Carla bucked herself against the couch, shunting it to keep her pressed against the wall. Poppy beat the side of Carla's face with her fist and then stretched away from her, trying to reach the Taser on the cushion. Will crawled forward.

Poppy screamed again as Carla bit deeper into her wrist. Will heard the knife drop from her hand to the wooden floor. His shoulders connected with the front of the couch. Poppy's fingertips could just touch the plastic casing of the Taser as she flexed further to grab it. He could use his face to swipe it out of the way.

With a yelp of exertion, Poppy snatched it up and jabbed it quickly into Carla's neck. Carla dropped sideways off the couch, her body curled up on itself.

Will heard the air leave her body and climbed to his feet. Poppy shoved the couch away from her and rounded it to attack him with the Taser. He put his head down and ran at her, connecting hard with her slight frame. Both of them smashed into the back wall.

Carla lay incapable, every sinew contracting and restraining her from extending her bloodless, bound hands towards the area of floor less than two feet in front of her. Beyond the scattered CD boxes lay the sushi knife, but her muscles wouldn't obey, couldn't unclamp so she could bend her elbows.

Will rammed his shoulder repeatedly against Poppy. With his hands restrained breaking her against the wall was all he could do to save them. He felt the spark in his side and his body seized again. But he was still on top of her, his weight restraining her there. She grunted under him, her fingers trying to find leverage.

He felt himself lift slightly and looked down to see her bloodied face, trembling with exertion. He met her eyes as she gritted her teeth and pushed against him. Her face contorted and, in that brief moment, he imagined it was how her entire life had been.

His body toppled and he fell hard onto his back in front of the doorway, his teeth locking over his tongue.

 

Carla could feel her limbs starting to respond again. The knife was in reach; she was able to tense her arms and pushed her fingers shakily towards the blade.

A hand reached down past her and snatched it up.

Moments later, she heard Will scream.

 

CHAPTER SIXTY

 

Will knew she'd cut the Achilles tendon at the back of his foot. She was making sure he wouldn't get up again. The pain of the incision burnt through him.

Carla remained on her side, feeling her body comply with her demands. She turned to where Will lay. Poppy was crawling up his body with the knife. Carla had no weapon.

 

Will stared up at the ceiling of the summer house. Multicoloured sunlight coruscated through Libby's mobiles. At least they knew she was safe.

Poppy's blood-smeared face filled his field of vision. She examined his eyes and then looked at his mouth. Her curdled breath filled his nostrils. His teeth were the only weapons he had left. Could he move his neck to meet her?

“Libby's going to live my life now, the life of your real daughter. She'll carry on the family alone,” she said, as if it were a consolation.

He felt her lips lightly kiss his and tasted warm, salty blood and sickly sweet cherry.

Then he heard an almost indiscernible crack. A moment later, Poppy lifted her head slightly. He felt warmth inside his collar. She tensed and moved away from Will, standing and looking down at him.

He registered Carla was stood behind her, the intensity of her horror directed at Poppy's neck. Poppy had one broken half of a CD planted in the side of her throat. The shard glinted rainbows as she put her fingers delicately to it. Blood cascaded down the front of her violet dress.

 

Carla watched the torrent pump through the laceration in time with Poppy's heartbeat. The sharp plastic had cut into the fine spray of freckles there and the torn flap of skin billowed as her severed artery drained her blood onto the floor of the summer house.

She moved stiffly forward, crimson splashing about her bare feet as she walked through it and headed into the garden.

Carla followed and watched from the doorway as Poppy stumbled purposefully towards the pond.

 

Poppy felt her strength leave her with each step, but she wanted to reach the water. She didn't want to collapse here.

She looked down at the grass. It reminded her of the wedding of her childhood fantasy – red petals scattered at her feet.

She wanted to be face down in the dark pond and have it close over her.

 

The prongs of wire had engraved Tam's body to the top of his waist with deep scratches. He was halfway through, but his hips were stuck on their sharp edges. He howled as he pulled himself forward, thrashing his tied feet to absorb the pain. Skinny Man didn't hear.

He felt the coils slip from his ankles, but the agony at his sides overwhelmed the victory. Tam shifted himself back slightly and knew from the cold burn that he was bleeding badly. He rested for a few moments, listening to his own dry panting.

Above him he heard the metal shutter being raised and an engine's revs amplified by the enclosed loading bay. The other man had come back.

Tam wriggled desperately against the wire again, its points sliding back into the wounds already there. He gritted his teeth as hard as he could against the pain as he dragged himself further on.

He heard the shutter slam again.

Tears poured down his face as he frantically crawled and inched while the metal raked through him. His body slid free of the cage. Tam kicked away his bonds and clambered shakily to his feet.

The room wavered as he held his bound hands in front of him. With his numb and prickling legs he pounded a trench through the chickens to the steps, zigzagging past Skinny Man. His face wasn't in shadows, but black with dried blood.

He paused at the bottom and listened, swallowing back his fear in one big mouthful. No more sounds of activity. He put his foot onto the bottom step, but heard the door above open. Tam scuttled back. It was pointless hiding behind the stack of cages. When they realised he'd escaped he'd be trapped inside the chicken house.

Tam knew he had to get up the steps as soon as the man descended. He took a few paces back, squeezing himself against the dank concrete wall and listening to the man trotting down. The light sneaking in from above illuminated his shaved head as he reached the bottom.

Tam thought the man's single eyebrow made it look as if he had two moustaches growing on his face. He watched him stride to the hanging light switch. As soon as he turned it on he would have to run. He edged to the bottom step again and turned just as the bulbs lit up the empty cage. Tam pelted upwards and heard the man's yell as he reached the top.

Once he was through the door, he considered running for the shutter that had just been secured. From where he stood on the gantry, he could see a white poultry van parked next to the lorry and couldn't tell if the exit had been padlocked at the bottom again.

Tam decided to hide instead. He raced for the cold room but, as he grasped the long screw handle and heaved it, he paused at the icy threshold of darkness then ran back to the security cabin. He climbed into one of the lower lockers and pulled the door shut behind him.

The sound of his breath filled the locker. He crushed his lips tightly together and breathed the smell of stale sweat through his nose. Tam held his breath as soon as he heard the door at the top of the stairs open and the man's deliberate footsteps move along the gantry. They stopped as he paused at the security cabin. Tam was prepared to suffocate in the locker rather than release the sob he'd lodged inside himself.

The man's footfalls eventually continued away. Tam silently exhaled then cautiously slipped back out of the locker and peered out. He was just in time to see the man open the cold room door he'd left ajar. He was brandishing a long black stick. As he stepped up and tentatively inside, Tam tore along the gantry and slammed it shut behind him.

Tam stood back and listened to the man's thumping fists and yells. He knew there was no way the man could escape and so Tam stayed there for several satisfying minutes, until he realised the ache about his face was a smile.

He left the gantry, jumping down into the loading bay and limping for the shutter. There was no padlock securing it. His hands were still tied. Exhausted, he leaned his shoulder against the metal and slid his fingertips underneath the gap. As he exerted himself, again every cut on his body felt as if they split wide. He jammed his hands further into the slit. It trembled as he tried to yank the edge up. The shutter remained stuck.

He didn't want to understand why these things had happened to him, he was just a child who wanted his mother and father. Tam felt so weak. He had to get home, but another heave felt like it would finish him.

Tam would know the truth when he was bigger and stronger, not now. When he was a grown-up he would understand everything. He screamed as every cell of him screamed with the effort. The shutter lifted a foot and Tam rolled through the narrow gap before it could close again.

The nighttime version of his world was waiting on the other side.

 

Will looked up at the summer house ceiling. He could feel warmth around his ankle; still taste Poppy's blood inside his mouth and caking in the folds of his neck. After calling the police and ambulance Carla had told him she was getting the first aid kit. He'd listened to the slapping of her feet as she'd run back to the house.

By the time she returned, the sensations and raw pain were returning. She spoke to him and he could see the side of her face swelling up where Poppy had struck her. Her fingers gently dressed the burning at the end of his leg. Then she turned him carefully on his side and he felt the chain release and the circulation trickling back into his hands. He rolled onto his back again and she clasped his hands to his chest.

 

Nineteen years as man and wife,
 

And still so many years ahead.
 

 
 

He shifted his head back so he could see the pond. Poppy's dead body was huddled about four feet from the water's edge.

He thought about the last time he and Carla had sat in the spot and how he'd talked about Libby's pregnancy and consequences.