Her friend had made a stupid comment, a joke.
‘Oh, it’s like that is it?’ Oliver had inquired.
‘No, it’s not like that,’ Claire had replied. ‘Oliver, we’re not going anywhere. Come and join us.’
He had stormed out. Claire had joined him at home a half hour later.
She walked out the following morning.
But the weeks apart had made Claire realise she could deal with this, so she’d made up her mind. She was very much in love with Oliver and could work through anything for the sake of their relationship.
As she locked her car, checking her phone for messages, she saw a tall guy by the side doors of the car park. He was wearing a boiler suit with the words LIFT ENGINEER on the back. He smiled at her. ‘Got a key to get inside? It’s urgent. The lift alarm’s sounding: someone stuck between the first and second floor.’
Claire tried the door. ‘Wait there. My partner is in the hall at the front. I’ll get him to open it. Give me a second.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’
As Claire turned, heading towards the front doors of the building, something soft came over her face and she felt herself being dragged bodily across the car park.
She struggled, kicking out, screaming under the face cover. Her heart was racing and she felt like she’d vomit at any second. Claire’s chest was about to explode. She tried desperately to rip the cloth from her head, struggling to breathe. She shook uncontrollably, her body spasming and she feared she’d faint. ‘Please let me go. I beg you,’ Claire screamed, managing to overcome the numb feeling in her lips.
‘Shut your fucking mouth, or I swear I’ll snap your neck right here.’
‘Please don’t do this. I beg you, don’t do this.’
As the guy pulled her body along the rough path, he punched her in the side of the head.
He dragged her further, then stopped, loosened his grip for a moment, but she was too shocked by the punch to react. The hood over her head slipped and she caught sight of the back of a truck.
The guy in the boiler suit tied rope around her, circling her body several times, making sure she was secure. He reached for another shorter piece of rope, wrapping it around her face and pulling tight. She heard a door open, and he threw her trembling body into the cargo area.
She felt the truck shift and start to move.
She thrashed and struggled, trying to get free.
The driver shouted at her, ‘Don’t make it more difficult for yourself. Your air is limited, so I’d keep as still as possible if you don’t want to suffocate.’
She lay still then, moaning.
The man said, ‘Your boyfriend is a very fucking stupid man. He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. Did he tell you? I bet he didn’t mention what he’s done, huh? This is what happens when you fuck with people like us. How’s the breathing going back there?’ He paused.
Claire tried to move herself into a less uncomfortable position.
‘Your boyfriend fucked with the wrong people. Now, it’s payback.’
Claire lay in the back, bound so tightly with rope that her body throbbed. It felt like her airways were blocked and the bottom half of her body was hanging on by a thread. She was staring into the darkness. The hood was smothering her and her breathing was becoming more rapid and desperate. She kicked out, thumping the side of the truck with her heels. Her mouth was open, but nothing was coming out. She could hear the driver shouting about something Oliver had done.
Why did I go back for the fucking phone? She wriggled like a fish on the end of a line, wondering if it was the end of the line for her too.
Suddenly, she heard something in the back next to her. She stopped, listening to the sounds of the truck moving across London.
There it is again, something beside me, next to me. Claire heard a moan, followed by a whimper, close to where she lay.
Someone else was tied up next to her.
A short while earlier, Rob had showered, and was standing by the full-length mirror with a towel around his waist. He eyed his shape, impressed at how good he looked for his age.
He thought how he deserved so much better than Meagan. She brings me down. She ruins my image. She holds me back. He thought about the parties he could have back here, the late nights, the drugs, the sex. She ruined everything. He could never let her mix with the same people he liked to hang out with. They’d laugh at how pathetic she was, mock her innocence, her casual take on life, her laid-back approach. Rob liked to live life in the fast lane, playing dangerously, taking risks, and he loved his job. The nightclubs, the late-night gambling, the orgies, the trips to Europe where he was free to be who he wanted to be.
Rob had a plan: a definitive vision of the future. It wouldn’t be long now. He’d open the club in Spain and make it a success. The only thing holding him back was his pathetic wife. She would no longer be part of his dream.
Rob was going to get rid of Meagan, her and her pitiful little life. If he didn’t act now there’d be a divorce settlement, she’d get hold of the money he’d made from the club. The business he’d built himself. He recalled a conversation they’d had when they first met. Meagan had told him if he ever got tired of her, she’d fleece him for everything he had. He’d have to pay her off. Well, now Meagan had no choice. She wouldn’t get a penny of his money. He couldn’t wait to see her face as he placed the rope around her neck, crushing her windpipe, watching her beg, her final plea for him to spare her life.
Now as he dropped the towel, he wanted Meagan. He needed some relief, then he’d finish her. She hated it, despised being intimate with him, although she’d never say it to his face. She wouldn’t fucking dare.
Rob grabbed the thick rope from the drawer beside his bed, feeling the excitement flood his body. This was it. Showtime.
He called down the stairs, ‘Meagan, you’d better have my shirt and jeans ready. I have an hour before I need to leave. Did you hear me, Meagan?’
He walked into the kitchen, finding it empty. As Rob turned towards the front door, he noticed it was slightly ajar, gently swinging on its hinge.
Meagan was gone.
Claire estimated the pickup truck had been driving for almost an hour.
The music was still playing loudly from the front. The guy had been quiet, occasionally talking on the phone to a voice on the loudspeaker. The figure lying next to her hadn’t moved for some time.
Claire wondered if the person had died or was unconscious.
She struggled to stem her distress, breathing deeply with slow, calm breaths. Claire could hear her yoga instructor’s voice. ‘Keep your back straight, darling, let the air flow, my love. Think of yourself as a vessel, clear your mind, a blank canvas. Now stretch. That’s it, girl, reach that body forward, tall and proud. Tall and proud. Now fly.’
All I’ve learned in the past means shit now. It’s pointless. The fucker’s going to kill me, and there’s little I can do to stop him.
The truck slowed and gravel crunched under the tyres. Claire’s body was thrown around like a suitcase in the hold of a plane going through heavy turbulence.
Suddenly the truck stopped. The music went off. There was the sound of the driver’s door opening and footsteps moving towards her.