Scared Yet? (31 page)

43

‘I knew my delivery to your father would bring you here.' His voice was amiable as he worked the adhesive tape around her ankles. ‘Fathers and daughters have a bond. Mine loved my three sisters. In all the wrong ways but they shared a bond.' He stood up, looked down on her like a stern nanny. ‘Don't run away now.'

He whistled tunelessly as he rattled and banged things about in the orthodontist's office. He'd always been strange. Everyone saw it. Liv had defended him, said the poor guy was just dying to please. Wasn't she the goddamn fool? Screwed up was probably only a little closer to the truth.

Liv pressed her hands between her knees, trying to squeeze out the shakes that were making her fingers tremble and her gut roll and pitch. She glanced up and down the corridor again. Straight hallway, locked doors at either end, eight more locked doors lining the walls. The office ones were ordinary glass, she was sure. She could break them, which would achieve nothing. Only the front two had a window on the street. They might not be as
tough as the material in the main entry but they'd been replaced last year after vandals smashed them and they'd survived another attempt. Besides, her hands and feet were bound. She wasn't going to make it across the hall while Ray was half-a-dozen steps away.

‘Coming now, Livia,' he called.

His cheerfulness made a sweat break out in her hairline. The bulky tool hanging from his belt as he appeared in the doorway made her wish he'd shoved the screwdriver through her heart when he had a chance. It was a gun. Not like the one Rachel kept in a holster. This was a fat, chunky, fluoro orange nail gun. Liv had seen him using it around the office, firing long spikes of steel into solid timber at the touch of a trigger. She couldn't take her eyes off it, bouncing on its D-ring at his hip as he carried a chair to the centre of the corridor.

‘Stand up for me, please.' He waited as she struggled to her feet, gripped her elbow as she started to overbalance. ‘I'm sorry but you'll have to jump across to the chair.' As she hopped like a kangaroo, he steered her gently. ‘Sit, please.'

She was about to tell him to drop the frigging pleases, when she saw the retractable blade in his hand. She raised her bound hands like a shield. ‘Oh Christ, Ray. Don't. Just tell me what you want.'

‘I want you to sit down and be still, Livia.'

So she sat, held her breath, wondered just how screwed up he was.

He pulled a plastic tie from his trouser pocket, the kind police use when they don't have handcuffs, attached it high
on her left calf and secured it to the leg of the chair. He sliced through the silver tape below, tightened another tie at her ankle then separated her knees and bound her right leg to the other side of the seat. More tape was splayed out and wound around her upper arms and torso, lashing her to the back of the chair.

‘This must seem like a lot of fuss,' he said. ‘But you'd be surprised what people will do when I try to make them secure. I find it's best this way.' He taped a rectangle of silver over her mouth, stepped back and surveyed his work. ‘I think that should do it.'

As he walked towards the security exit, panic rose in her throat like a gush of thick, acrid liquid. She wanted to cough it out, gasp for air, scream at him to let her go. But her lips wouldn't move under the tape.

He opened the door with a key, looked at her over his shoulder as he stood on the threshold. ‘I won't be long. Don't be defiant.'

The silence of the corridor was as suffocating as the tape holding her rigid. She couldn't breathe, couldn't move. She was going to die. Her ears filled with the roar of surging adrenaline and the gasping, uncontrolled hiss of her breath. Her head started to spin, shadows crept in from the edges of her vision. Fuck, Liv, you're passing out.
Pull it together
.
Now
. She forced herself to suck air through her nose, hold it, let it out. Did it over and over until all she could hear was the soft shush of traffic in the street behind her.

Then she tested the bindings. She could tap her shoes on the carpet, move her forearms up and down and turn her head. If she could push off with her toes with enough
force, she might be able to tip the chair over. Then what? If he found her like that, he'd say she was defiant. And then what?

She squeezed her eyes to block out the thought. Half an hour ago, she'd thought it was Daniel. She'd thought he'd pull her from the car and leave her dead on the concrete. Now it was possible he was dead and she would die in here instead.

Maybe she'd always been heading to this. For a year, she'd believed she was in a long, black tunnel, that if she didn't give up, if she kept walking or crawling or dragging herself forward any way she could, she'd eventually get to the end, squint in the sunlight and cry, ‘I made it!' But maybe it wasn't a tunnel. Maybe it was what Kelly said – a deep and shitty hole and she was about to hit rock bottom. That the downward slide of the last year wasn't a test of her staying power but the warm-up for a horrible, bloody end. The preparation for defeat. And she'd exhausted herself trying to stay on her feet for
nothing
.

She stiffened at a sound. A shuffle-thud. Outside the security exit. Was it Ray or was someone else out there? Someone who could help her. A strangled sound came from her throat. A scream from behind her taped mouth – that no one would hear. Then the door was thrown open and Daniel stepped through.

It took a second for her brain to process the sight of him at the other end of the corridor. His shoulders filled the doorway. He looked huge and angry. She thought of the apprehended violence orders and Rachel's reasoning and his refusal to give a handwriting sample. But there
was blood on his face, bright red and running from one cheek. She'd hit him in the knee, not the face. He stumbled forward, moving jarringly. Was he saving her? Had he dragged himself off the concrete for her? Then she saw – his hands were pulled behind him and his mouth was covered by a strip of silver tape.

Ray thrust him further forward, turned to lock the exit. As he did, Daniel watched her with dark, furious eyes. It was her fault he was caught up in this. Her fault he couldn't walk, that his face was bleeding and his hands were tied. She'd accused him of every ugly thing that had happened – he had a right to be mad as hell.

‘Well, that's that job out of the way.' Ray shoved Daniel to the wall beside his office, told him to sit. As he did, Liv saw his hands were bound the same way as hers, a wide bracelet of silver tape behind his back.

There was no insipid smile from Ray now, just impatience as Daniel leaned on the wall for support, pain twisting his face as he tried to move his ruined leg. Halfway down, Ray slammed a knee into Daniel's hip and dropped him to the carpet.

As agonised, muffled sound forced its way from Daniel's taped mouth, Ray grinned above him. ‘That make it easier? Feeling brave now, Mr Security Man?' He unclipped the nail gun from his tool belt, pressed the muzzle to the underside of Daniel's chin. ‘Where's your first-aid kit now, you fucking show-off?'

Don't hurt him
, Liv yelled but the words were in her head, her voice just muted grunts behind the tape.

Ray shot a quick, quizzical glance at her along the
corridor, moved the gun to Daniel's injured knee and pushed down hard enough to straighten the leg and make him throw back his head in pain.

Liv howled behind her mask.

The nail gun stayed where it was as Ray raised eyebrows at her. ‘A nail too much, do you think?'

She nodded, big movements, over and over.

‘All right then.' He said it as though she'd put up a good argument and he'd reluctantly changed his mind. Then he kicked Daniel's leg, left him reeling in agony, walked to Liv and tore the tape from her mouth.

Her lips felt like they'd been ripped off. She couldn't get them to work properly, forced slurred words out at volume. ‘I'm sorry, Daniel. I'm so sorry.'

‘Don't be sorry,' Ray said calmly. ‘This is his fault. If he hadn't got in my way and tried to do my job, this would have been resolved last week.'

‘What?' she yelled. ‘What would have been resolved?'

He answered with patient reasoning. ‘It's my job to look after the people in this suite. It's always been my job. I was here from the beginning. Daniel had his own job and tried to take mine. He shouldn't have done that.'

What the hell was he talking about?

She took a breath, tried to match his tone. ‘I think you've got it wrong, Ray. I don't think Daniel wants your job. And you're terrific at it.'

He leaned down and bawled in her face. ‘
Then why didn't you come to me?
'

44

‘I could have walked you to your car last Monday night,' Ray spoke as though she was a child and he was teaching her an important lesson. ‘I walk all the other ladies to their cars when it's dark. I expressly told you about the vandals, I even showed you the broken lights. If I'd walked you to your car, I could have protected you. That's my job.'

Is that what this was about? He'd hurt people and tied her up because she hadn't asked him to walk her to her car. Was that her defiance? She wanted to spit in his face. Don't, Liv. Do something that would help.

‘Daniel didn't walk me to my car that night. He only found me afterwards.'

‘But he took advantage of the situation.'

Ray moved along the corridor, stopped halfway between his prisoners, pointed an accusing finger at Daniel. ‘I saw him every day, going around to your office, buying your coffee, pretending he knew how you liked it. He had to ask Lenny how you have it. He didn't know you like it with skim milk in a medium-sized cup.' He pulled his
spiral-bound notebook from his breast pocket and waved it around. ‘I know that, I've got it all written down.' He opened it, shoved it in Daniel's face, marched back up the hall, held it up for her to see.

The page was covered in tiny writing, lists with asterisks and dot points.

He snatched it back, read from it. ‘You have chicken salad on multigrain for lunch, you like lemon and poppyseed muffins but only in the mornings and on special occasions you have the lemon tart. You have no more than three cappuccinos in one day and you never have tea.' He bellowed at Daniel, ‘You didn't know that, did you?' He was serene as he spoke to Liv. ‘I do. It's my job.'

This hadn't started last week. He'd put Liv's name in his book the day they'd opened Prescott and Weeks. He'd offered to pick up coffee for them, said he had others on his list and he'd just jot it down so he wouldn't forget.

She wondered about the vandals in the car park. Lights were smashed last winter and Liv and Kelly had started moving their cars to the street before it got dark. Ray made a point of mentioning it every so often. He'd drop by the office, say, ‘Just letting you know the vandals are back in town. Don't forget, I'll walk you out if you're leaving late.' Had he smashed the lights to make sure the ‘ladies' needed his protection?

She tried to muster a smile. ‘You've done a great job with that information. I didn't realise how much work was involved. I apologise for that.'

He shook his head sadly. ‘I don't think you appreciate the seriousness of this, Livia.'

‘I'm tied to a chair, Ray. I get that it's serious.'

‘No, I don't think you do. It's my job to protect you all.'

‘You didn't protect Teagan.'

‘Teagan wasn't one of you. She'd only been here for three months.'

Guilt and anger hardened her voice. ‘She works for me. She is my responsibility. And if I'm your responsibility then so is she and you didn't protect her.'

‘She didn't understand my role here.'

‘I'm not sure I understand, Ray. Maybe you could explain to me how throwing a teenager from the second storey of a car park protects anyone.'

His head tipped to one side as he watched her face for a long, probing moment, eyes narrowing as though he could read every tiny detail of her mind. There was a brief, dissatisfied twitch of his lips before he turned and marched down the hall, releasing the nail gun from his belt with a practised flick of his thumb. Then he held it to Daniel's shoulder and fired.

The thwack of sound made her scream. The strangled roar of pain from Daniel's taped mouth brought tears to her eyes. ‘God, no. Leave him alone.'

Blood bloomed on Daniel's T-shirt, a circle of expanding red, spreading fast.

Words exploded from her mouth. ‘You're a fucking lunatic!'

Ray's placid face turned pinched and wild and furious. He stormed towards her. What had she done? He stopped in front of her, the nail gun gripped at his side, breathing hard behind an ugly sneer.

A voice in her head told her she should cringe, look scared, give him what he wanted. But she couldn't. It wasn't in her. She understood that now. She hadn't fought to stay on her feet all those months to get to the end of some goddamn tunnel. She'd done it because she was her father's daughter. Because fighting was all she knew. There would be no fists in this battle, though.

She lifted her chin. ‘What are you going to do, Ray? Put a fucking nail in my shoulder? You should have done that a week ago. Why the hell didn't you? Why didn't you hurt me? Sheridan and Teagan didn't do anything to you.'

‘You were being defiant. You wanted to be independent and go outside my protection and I couldn't allow that. You had to be taught it isn't safe out there.'

‘It is safe. You're the one making it dangerous.'

He frowned. ‘I thought you understood this now. I thought that was why you came here.'

The gun moved in his hand. Just a small readjustment of his grip but it silenced her.

‘You haven't learnt anything, have you, Livia?'

She kept still. Would the wrong answer put a nail in her shoulder?

His eyes were bewildered, his mouth unforgiving. A bead of sweat rolled slowly down his temple. ‘No, I don't think you have,' he decided. He turned suddenly, unlocked the orthodontist's door, disappeared inside.

Down the corridor, blood ran from Daniel's sleeve, his injured leg was splayed in front of him, his head rested on the wall – and his eyes were on her. She saw pain and anger and frustration and helplessness in them.

‘I'm sorry,' she whispered, hot tears spilling over her cheeks.

He didn't move, didn't make a sound. Just watched her. What did he see now?

‘Here, I think you'll enjoy this.' Ray was back with a mobile phone in his hand. He held it up, screen side to her. ‘It's a lovely shot of both of you, don't you think?'

It took a moment for her to focus. Then she thought Ray had shoved the screwdriver through her heart.

It was a photo of Cameron and Liv, holding hands, walking from the school. It was taken on Tuesday, the last time she'd picked him up at the gate. ‘Oh, please. This is about you and me. It's got nothing to do with . . . with anyone else.'

Ray turned the phone back, found another picture, held it up. ‘How about this one?' It was Cameron with Michelle, outside Thomas's house. ‘Little Cameron is going to have a baby brother or sister soon. What's his father like? I never met him. Is he an animal? Is that why you didn't stay with him?'

She couldn't speak. Could only think that he'd been to Thomas's house. That he knew where Cameron was.

Ray didn't wait for an answer. He found another photo. Her father this time. At the hospice, his shrunken face staring stonily at the camera. She knew that expression. He was mightily displeased. Tears flooded her eyes – pride at his courage, fear for his safety.

‘What's your father like, Livia? It was just you and him living in that flat above his gym. Did he make a special
bond with you there? Or did he use his fists on you? My father had four children to manage his needs. Did you have to provide an outlet for all of your father's?'

Liv swallowed down on her disgust but held tight to the anger that was burning in her veins.

‘Like I said, fathers and daughters have a bond. What about mothers and sons, Livia? My mother was beaten to death by a stranger for the contents of her handbag when I was eight. My family knew all about the dangerous world we live in. My father kept us safe.
I
kept my sisters safe when he was no longer with us. What about your son, Livia? He lives in a dangerous world.' He leant in, his face centimetres from hers, his voice low and intimate. ‘Does it scare you to think of what could happen to him? Or your father? Do you think if I hurt one of them, you might be scared enough to let me do my job?'

Her voice was barely a whisper. ‘Please. No. You don't have to hurt anyone.'

Ray cocked his head. ‘Yes, I think I do and you should decide which one. Your father or your son?'

Liv couldn't speak. Her mouth was dust.

‘Which one do you love the most? Which one will make you believe?'

She forced out sound. ‘You don't have to hurt either of them. Please. I'll behave.'

‘Maybe both.'

‘No. I'll be scared. I
am
scared, Ray.'

He folded his arms, watched her a moment, shook his head unconvinced. ‘No, I need to make sure you're going to stay that way. It's not fair on the others. I can't protect
them if I have to keep worrying about whether you'll stray again.'

Ray wheeled his cleaning trolley into the corridor, opened a tool box on top, put a knife in a leather sheath into a notch on his belt. Dread pounded in her head as he collected handcuffs, plastic ties, lighter fluid.

Behind him, Daniel was moving, trying to get his good leg under him. His face was screwed up with pain, the wall behind him smeared red with blood.

Without warning, Ray spun and kicked Daniel's injured knee. As he bellowed, Ray shouted, ‘I know what you did. You spread her legs and rutted like an animal. The job doesn't work like that, you fucking amateur.'

He was crazy. Sadistic and damaged and violent – and he was unlocking the security exit. About to go hunting her son or her father. Or both. She had to stop him. She had to try.

‘Wait, Ray. Wait,' Liv called.

With fingers curled around the handle, he raised his eyebrows at her over his shoulder. ‘Have you made a decision?'

‘No. Please. Wait.'

He pushed the door open.

Stop pleading, Liv. The only thing that had got a reaction was insult. Well, fine, 'cause she had it in buckets. She took a breath, injected all the contempt she felt for him. ‘You're so fucking lame, Ray.'

He paused, one foot outside.

‘You think you're shit-hot at your job but you're just shit.'

He turned.

It was a start. ‘You haven't protected me. I got beaten up last week. Why would I ask you for help after that?'

He took a step inside, a tiny quiver of uncertainty on his mouth. ‘Don't lie to me, Livia. You're here. You came to me.'

‘I came to use the damn phone. I thought Daniel was hurting those people. You let him take the credit for you. You could have protected me from him, told me what he was up to but you didn't do your job.'

Ray glanced at Daniel, then at Liv, a crease between his eyebrows. Confusion. Irritation. He took his hand off the door, let it ease its way back to the jamb.

Don't stop, Liv. Get him away from the exit. Stop him thinking about Cameron and Dad. Get him angry and mean. At her, not them. ‘You haven't even scared me much. Okay, you got me going a couple of times. But you know what I thought when I saw Teagan lying on that van? I thought, thank God it's not me. I wasn't scared. I was glad it wasn't me.'

Ray licked his lips, narrowed his eyes.

‘And now what?' she goaded. ‘You're going to leave me here while you hurt someone else. What are you going to tell all eight of your Facebook friends about that? That you scared the shit out of a woman by locking her in a hallway with an injured, unarmed man? Oh yeah. Real scary.'

He stormed towards her, victory and terror all in one. The backhander across her face felt like a freight train. It wrenched her head around. Cracked bones in her neck. Crushed her ear. Stung her cheek and lips.

‘Don't. Be. Defiant!' he roared.

There was blood in her mouth. Her head was spinning and ringing. Ray paced back and forth, breathing hard and fast. Down the corridor, Daniel was struggling with the binds behind his back, pulling, twisting, desperate.

Ray curled his mouth into a snarl as he spat words at her. ‘It's for you! You have to understand what can happen to you. How easily your life can be torn from you.'

She managed a small shrug under the binding. ‘But you're not going to hurt me. Why should
I
be scared?'

He grabbed a handful of her hair, pulled the nail gun from his belt, shoved the blunt end of the muzzle into the soft flesh between the V of her jaw. ‘What about now, Livia?'