The figure lying next to her suddenly moved. Something pushed against Claire’s body.
Claire needed to get out; she was struggling to keep calm. She shook her head, desperately trying to remove the hood, needing to escape. She was claustrophobic, terrified of enclosed spaces and being confined or held down. She heard the boot open.
Then she heard the guy’s voice close by. ‘Don’t make this difficult, or I promise I’ll slit your throats right here.’
Claire listened to his words, needing to co-operate with whatever he said. Regardless of his demands, she needed to follow the instructions.
He dragged her body towards him, dropping her on the ground with a heavy thud. She landed awkwardly on her head, her aching frame collapsing.
She heard the person who had been lying next to her falling on the ground and crying out, begging to be released. It was another woman, her voice hysterical.
The boot was shut hard, then Claire was lifted and placed over the guy’s shoulder. She kicked out.
The guy walked calmly across the gravel like he was strolling along a sandy beach watching the sunset. Claire tried to imagine warm water lapping the coastline. The sensation eased her racing mind, if only for a few seconds.
As Claire bounced on his shoulder, she sensed some steps, her body lowering, heading towards a basement deep below. She pushed ferociously, thrusting her legs in desperation. She heard a door open and the air changed. They were in a dank, cave-like room. She was sure she was going to die there.
32
Present day
Oliver had tried Claire’s phone numerous times, each call going to voicemail until eventually he’d memorised the message and found himself mouthing the whole sentence, then hanging up and redialling.
He was frantic. It had to be gloved-man’s partner. It had to be.
He called Meagan, getting an answer message.
‘Fuck.’ Oliver shouted louder than he’d expected. He pounded his fist on the breakfast bar, then stood still, staring at the jewellery.
The guy has been in here, inside my apartment.
Oliver wanted to go to the police, let them know what had happened, have them deal with it, find this arsehole and bring him down. But how could he? Firstly, the guy had the photo showing Oliver dumping a body at the reservoir. It was only a matter of time before the police put two and two together. They’d bang me up for the rest of my sad little life, he thought.
Secondly, Meagan has a video recording. If this lunatic has got to Meagan, he’d more than likely get into her phone and see the film. There was the possibility she would talk. If Claire had been taken, Meagan was also on his radar. Gloved-man’s partner already had suspicions; calling to her door, making threats while Oliver hid in the lift. He had all the evidence he needed and it was only a matter of time before he came for Oliver.
He’s been in my apartment. He’ll come for me.
Oliver thought about Claire and Meagan. He couldn’t break down now. He had to be strong. Claire had been such a big part of his life, they’d shared so many laughs together, so many wonderful moments, it couldn’t end like this. Oliver wouldn’t allow it. His mind moved to Meagan, the life she’d lived, the torment and abuse she’d suffered. How could he put them both in such a predicament? He was going to help them. He was going to rescue Claire and Meagan at any cost.
Oliver raced through the hall. He pushed the chain across the front door, twisting the key, engaging the double lock and checking it.
Now he could only wait and see how it played out. Whatever happened, he was in deep shit; and he had no idea how to escape.
Suddenly he found himself angry. Angry at how Meagan had acted, her foolishness and naivety. One thing was for sure, if trouble landed at Oliver’s door he’d blame Meagan and pin it on her. Oliver would bring her down with him.
Claire sat strapped to a flimsy chair. She pushed her body forward. She thought the wooden legs might snap any second, dropping her to the hard floor.
She gasped for breath, each time swallowing part of the hood. With her tongue, she forced the cloth away from her mouth, taking hard breaths in and out, trying to work it away from her face by locking her jaw open and swinging her head frantically.
She listened to the strange noises coming from her throat. She was unsure why she was being held captive.
A rancid waft came through the hood as she gulped for air. The basement stank of piss, mildew and something else. Claire tried to recall what it was. The smell of a butcher’s shop. A childhood memory of her parents treating them to steak on a Saturday night. She hated the stench. She stood in the middle of the shop, watching the animals on display like a freak show, the ringmaster standing at the front door, beckoning people to come in and take a look. ‘Roll up, roll up. Do we have a surprise for you today, ladies and gentlemen? A pig’s ear, a sheep’s head! Don’t fear little one, they’re most certainly dead.’
Claire’s head was full of senseless imagery and she was unable to control her thoughts. Her mind was racing and confused through sheer exhaustion. Her head was suddenly heavy, like a foreign object that had been planted on her shoulders. She was going to faint. Any second now she’d pass out. Fear caused her to kick her legs forward, desperately trying to free herself.
The door opened with a slow creaking close to where she sat. There was a shuffling just in front of her. Claire listened, hearing something being dragged, then the muffled screams.
Something was placed on the seat next to her. She heard footsteps moving closer. Someone was standing in front of her face, leaning in towards her.
Hands suddenly grasped her neck.
This is it – the end, where my world finishes. A dank, piss-smelling basement.
The guy’s hands moved around the back of her head, and suddenly the hood was whipped from her face. She felt relief from the heat which had suffocated her the last hour, welcoming the coolness of the darkened room.
Claire’s eyes darted around. There was the abductor in her peripheral vision on the left, but she was too frightened to turn and look directly towards him. She flicked a look across to the woman tied beside her on her right, a hood still over her head.
Suddenly, the abductor came into view, stepping to the front of the basement room. A tall figure; he had broad shoulders and was wearing a menacing-looking mask. It was stitched up at the sides, like flesh had been sewn together and placed over his face, the mouth a large hole.
His left arm rested by his side, holding a gun.
Claire listened to the pleas for help coming from the woman next to her, and the terrifying sobs emanating from her own throat.
He suddenly started speaking – a deep, husky voice, authoritative, confident. ‘You can play this one of two ways. Either you both die here, now, or you go for the other more sensible option. I want answers.’ The guy leant forward, pushing his head into Claire’s face. ‘Your boyfriend didn’t tell you, did he? What he’s done, I mean.
‘See, my partner Tony was a complex character. Good at his job, he worked hard with only the best intentions. Yeah, he could be brutal, but sometimes you have to be in this game, if you know what I’m saying. Anyway, your fella, Oliver, is it? I’m thinking he knows more than he’s letting on. I think he knows where Tony is, but he’s too frightened to come out and face the consequences. He broke into his apartment, that’s what I’m guessing. There was an argument, some shit or other went down and to cut a long story short, your fella killed him, dumped him in a trunk and got rid of the body.’