“Nah, I’m just thinking out loud. Ignore me. I’m jittery about the drop-off. That’s a lot of money in that briefcase.”
Shane and Georgina earned more than Oliver and Isla, and their friends felt the squeeze when the time came to withdraw the cash from the bank. “This whole situation fucking sucks. At least you’ll be getting your share of Kerry and Amelia’s third back, that’ll be a hundred and sixty-six thousand.”
“Yeah, like I said, ignore me.” Oliver slowed down at a signpost for Barton Park. “Here we are.”
Shane reached behind his seat and put the briefcase on his lap, securing the money. He and Oliver devised a plan. Elf Man chose Barton Park because of its isolation in the evenings. They were to leave the case under a certain bench at nine o’clock. Then, when he thought Shane and Oliver were safely out of reach, the pom would retrieve said briefcase. “We’d better hope there are trees and bushes nearby,” Shane said to Oliver, who found a parking space off Eve Street. They planned on hiding until Elf Man fetched the cash, then pouncing on him and beating him to within an inch of his life.
Once parked up, Shane and Oliver walked through the huge park, passing only a few visitors, until they found the bench stipulated. Shane knew they had the correct bench because it overlooked a large decorative pond at the north end of the park. Under other circumstances he might be inclined to sit and admire the view, he thought, sitting down and placing the briefcase on the floor between his legs.
“Nearly time.” Oliver glanced at his watch. “I’m not sure about this. That’s a fucking lot of money, Shane.”
“We can still back out,” Shane said, wanting to cancel the drop-off because the nearest trees and bushes were a hike away. They wouldn’t be able to sneak up on Elf Man from that distance, not with the amount of open space between them. “Just say the word.”
A lengthy silence fell over them.
“I need an answer, Oli,” he said, sliding the briefcase beneath the bench, “or we leave it here and hope for the best.”
His “friend” remained silent, making his mind up.
“Yay, or a nay, mate?”
“No, let’s go for it.”
“Hope for the best,” Shane said, apprehensive at leaving the briefcase full of money. He turned and followed Oliver towards the bushes. They were more of a hike than he realised; he understood why Elf Man chose the bench. Even the fastest runner wouldn’t be able to catch him from that distance.
After finding a good bush to hide in, Shane knelt and observed from behind leafy branches protecting him from view. Oliver followed suit. With the pond, and by extension the bench, being so isolated, Elf Man would find it as difficult to hide as they did. “Where are you, you mongrel?” he whispered.
“You don’t think he can see us here, do you?” Oliver asked.
“If he can, he’ll know we’re too far away to catch him.”
Wanting nothing more than to be face to face with the pommie, Shane fantasised about little else. How he would destroy Elf Man. If he got the chance to punch him, he would, aware he wouldn’t be able to stop, and he didn’t think anyone in his group would want him to. “Why’s he keeping us waiting?”
He checked his phone: 21:20. No way Elf Man would be this late to pick up his million dollars. Shane felt something: dread. “Something’s wrong.”
“He should be here by now. What are we going to do?”
With one last glance at the bench, Shane stood. “First things first.” He stepped out from behind the bush. “We go and get our money.” And as he walked in the direction of the cash, he could see no one coming. His mobile bleeped. A text message from Elf Man: A picture of Georgina taken in his back garden through the living room window. “That piece of shit!” Shane spat, showing Oliver. “He never intended accepting our money; it’s a fucking ruse!”
Shane sprinted to the bench, picked up the case and legged it back to Oliver’s car, trying to keep up with him. Surprised at how much the briefcase weighed, he arrived at the car and sat in the passenger seat, breathless, as Oliver pulled out of the parking space.
A normal twenty-minute drive took a mere twelve in Oliver’s beast. The Mustang parked up outside his gates and Shane shot out, opening them with his key ring. They couldn’t open fast enough for him. Running at full pace, he reached the front door, only to find it locked. Images of Elf Man hurting Georgina leapt to the forefront of his mind. “George!” he yelled, Oliver right behind him.
If he had his gun, Shane would have had it out as he went from room to room looking for his girlfriend. Not finished searching the ground floor, he heard Georgina’s voice, and his heart jumped for joy at hearing such a wonderful sound. She appeared on the stairs, confused.
“What’s all the shouting about? Is it over?”
He didn’t need an invite, Shane ran up and grabbed her, pulling her in for the longest hug. “I thought I’d lost you,” he said, looking at her beautiful face, her cheeks warm to his palms.
“Are you all right?” she asked. “What happened?”
“Elf Man didn’t show. We brought the money back with us.” Happy that Georgina was safe, he invited Oliver upstairs to the living room.
While making them all tea, Shane noticed Oliver’s pale complexion. “You all right?”
“What if he wanted us to come here first?” he said out loud, picking up his car keys. “What if Isla’s his target?”
35
Not caring that he lost Shane and Georgina along the way, Oliver drove his imported muscle car at almost twice the speed limit through his suburb of Darling Point, screeching to a stop in front of his driveway. Hearing a car in the distance, he got out of his Mustang and ran up his drive. “Isla!”
His heart lurched at seeing the door open a crack. When he left to pick up Shane, he was positive he’d closed it. Opening it wider, he peered in and shouted, “Isla!”
No answer. He stepped inside as his friends appeared outside. “He’s been here,” he said, the words soaked in fear. “I closed the door when I left.”
“You don’t know he’s been here; you might’ve left it open.” Shane put a hand on his shoulder in support. “Let’s find her, before you go blaming yourself.”
Blaming himself? How could he not? He was responsible for everything. Hell, Elf Man scratched his car because he thought taking the piss out of one of Georgina’s followers would be funny. Kereama had been stabbed because of his “joke”. No, he couldn’t blame anyone else. He walked through his house, scanning each room for signs of life.
And every room he visited on the ground floor looked untouched. With no sign of a struggle, he felt hopeful. Oliver would have fallen to pieces had he seen broken furniture, or pictures, crockery, and whatever else might break during a disturbance. “Isla!” he yelled.
He climbed the stairs, scared he might find blood spattered on the walls, or pooling into the carpet. “Baby, speak to me!” he said, his voice quiet, Shane and Georgina behind him.
On the landing, all appeared normal, no blood, no broken possessions. One foot in front of the other, he was either going to find Isla alive and well, or the bedroom covered in her blood. “Where are you, baby?” he whispered, pushing his bedroom door open. “Please be alive,” he said, “please be alive.”
Nothing. Their bedroom immaculate, he closed his eyes and let out a deep relieved breath. “Thank God!” he told Georgina. “I thought I was going to find her in a bloody mess on the floor.” Backtracking, he entered the spare room and let out another sigh of relief.
When he stopped outside the bathroom, he heard a sound he adored: Isla’s version of singing. She was alive! Oliver saw the smirk on Georgina’s face. A terrible singer, that didn’t prevent his girlfriend from joining in with her Spotify playlist. With a grin, he opened the door to find her in the tub, surrounded by candles and bubbles.
Isla jumped and screamed when she stopped singing to find Oliver, Shane and Georgina smirking at her. Taking the earphones out, she sat up. “What? What’
s happened?” She sank lower, making sure they couldn’t see her breasts. “Will you all stop grinning at me and tell me what’s going on, please?”
Without an invite, Oliver rushed over to the tub, bent down and hugged her. “Thank God!” he said into her ear. “I thought he came here and hurt you.”
“Why? I thought you were out paying him off?”
“He didn’t show,” Shane explained from behind Oliver. “So, if either of you have any ideas on how we proceed from here, now’s the time to tell me.”
Staring into Isla’s stunning eyes, he replied, “We’ll think on it.”
Georgina whispered to Shane that they should leave.
Grateful for her intervention, he turned to his friends. “Thanks for coming.” He followed them downstairs and thanked them again for driving over there. He remembered to lock the door. And as he walked back upstairs, he tried to remember closing it before he left.
In the bathroom, he sat next to the tub while she finished bathing. “Did you go out front earlier?” he asked, in more of a muse than a question.
“Uh-uh.” She lathered her leg in bath soak.
Isla drove him wild. When she asked why, he said, “Oh, no reason. Just that the door was left ajar. I could’ve sworn I closed it.”
Ignoring his musings, she beckoned him with a crook of her finger. “Are you going to take me to the bedroom, or are we going to sit around talking all night?” she asked, her voice soft and enticing. “Well? Come here then!”
Oliver didn’t need to be asked twice; he stood at her command. When she held her hands up, he pulled her to her feet, bubbles sliding down her wet toned body. Isla put her arm around his neck, as he stooped down and picked her up. He carried her to the bedroom, and deposited her gently on top of the sheets. He didn’t care that she was dripping everywhere.
“I want you so bad,” she said, writhing on the bed.
36
Isla rolled Oliver over. For such a fit and healthy guy, he snored a lot. Satisfied with his heavy breathing instead, she lay on her back staring at nothing in particular, the ceiling, whatever. She regretted not catching Elf Man. If they had managed to corner him, he wouldn’t be out there stalking them; he would be in hospital, or worse. She dreamed of hurting him.
Of her fantasies, the most rewarding would be for her and her Dollies to surround him and keep kicking him until he stopped moving, stopped groaning in pain. That, or her and her friends pounding on him, although the enjoyment wouldn’t last as long with Oliver, Shane and Kereama joining in. Knowing Georgina, she would try to stop them, being the Buddhist of the group. Isla loved her to bits, but Georgina could be a liability sometimes.
Being a sufferer of insomnia for the past ten years, she sat up and opened the drawer of her bedside table. She took out a tub of CBD jellies, unpeeled the lid and stuck a couple in her mouth, tasting the strawberry flavouring as she chewed on them. Swallowing the juice, it wouldn’t take long for the CBD to work its magic, for her muscles to relax and help her fall asleep. Worked a charm every time.
Lying on her back, she closed her eyes and attempted not to think of anything, to empty her mind, like her self-help books had taught her. Sod’s law, whenever she tried, thoughts invaded her. Sometimes they were good, positive thoughts, other times negative. The reason she worked out so hard every day was to quieten her negativity.
A lifelong quest for Isla, having the perfect body meant everything to her. She started with two or three workouts a week like any regular member would, until she noticed the gains, and increased it to five or six sessions weekly. Eating a healthy balanced diet was also imperative. A year after joining the gym, she had abs, the holy grail.
Drifting off, her eyelids heavy, Isla’s body almost melted into the mattress, her head following suit. The best feeling in the world. It wouldn’t be long until she fell into the sweet land of slumber, her favourite place to be, where anything could happen. The laws of physics didn’t apply in her dreams.
A loud bang forced her to sit up.
It had come from downstairs.
After listening for a while she figured she must’ve dreamed it.
Her heart rate slowing, she lay back down.
Another loud bang, only closer.
“Oli, wake up.” She shook him. “Wake up, baby. I think someone’s in the house.”
After shaking him awake, she watched as Oliver threw back the sheets and walked over to his wardrobe. He fetched a wooden baseball bat and swung it a couple of times. “Are you going to put some clothes on?”
Isla pointed at his pants on the floor and he obeyed, sliding them up his legs. “Be careful.” She wished she had dreamed the noises. “Switch on the light.”
Flicking the switch, Oliver cursed when nothing happened.
Begging him to be careful, he opened the bedroom door and stepped out onto the landing, closing the door behind him. While listening for noises, she took out a pair of knickers and a black T-shirt from her chest of drawers and put them on.
Stood by the door, she pressed her ear to the wood.
Oliver screamed.
Several loud, hard crashes and thuds made her spy through a crack between the door and frame. “Oli!” she whispered after making up her mind to investigate.
Out on the dark landing, she stood at the top stair and saw her boyfriend lying unconscious at the bottom, his legs at awkward angles. “Oli!” She ran down the stairs so fast her feet barely hit carpet. Kneeling by his side, attempting to wake him up, she felt cold metal under her chin.
She looked up to find an unfamiliar face peering down at her. Georgina’s mum was right in her description of Elf Man: thin lips, unruly hair, and pale complexion.
“Hello, Isla,” Elf Man said. “We meet at last. I’ve waited for so long, I can’t tell you.”
Fight or flight. Those were her two choices.
Before she had the chance to choose, Elf Man pulled her hair back, exposing her throat.
Isla couldn’t speak for fear of him slicing her.
“Are you going to be a good girl?”
Daring to open her mouth, she said she would.
“Good girl. I want you to tie your hands together. Here, use these plastic ties. Can you do that? Or do I stick your boyfriend with this now?” He raised the knife.
“No! I’ll do it. Please, don’t hurt us. I’ll do whatever you want, I promise.”
She picked up the cable ties and tied one around her left wrist, then threaded the second beneath the first and around her right wrist.
“You’re a strong girl, aren’t you, Isla?” Elf Man asked. “Drag Oli into the lounge, please.” He walked ahead of her, his knife itching to play, she noted.
Even with her wrists bound, she could slide Oliver along the hallway carpet and into the living room, where two chairs were placed facing one another. Continuing to drag her boyfriend, she stopped next to one of them.
“Now put him in it, or I’ll slit his throat right here.”
“I’ll need your help; he’s too heavy,” she argued, hoping to get Elf Man close to her so that she could tackle him. “He’s a deadweight.”
Elf Man declined. He told her she either lifted him into the chair herself, or he would stick the knife in Oliver’s ear. Somehow, she managed it. Getting Oliver into it took a few minutes, with the pom’s verbal encouragement.
Gesturing the opposing seat, Elf Man told her to sit.
With little choice but to obey, Isla sat while he tied her ankles to the wooden legs with cable ties. Every time she moved, the plastic restraints dug into her flesh. “Please, you don’t have to do this,” she begged, tears streaming down her cheeks.
He stuck the knife between her hands and cut the plastic cuffs, freeing them. Then, he took two more ties and wrapped them around her wrists and the wooden arms of the chair. Helpless, now Elf Man could do whatever he liked to both of them. “I’m begging you, please. Oli didn’t mean anything by it, really. Please, you have to believe me.”
&nbs
p; Oliver groaned. The slow movement of his head scared her.
Elf Man stepped up to her disoriented boyfriend, the baseball bat in one hand, the knife in the other.
“Don’t hurt him, please.” She needed the toilet so badly.
“I wouldn’t dream of hurting him. Not our lovely Oli. The prankster, the joker.”
Oliver’s eyes rolled.
Isla continued pleading. “He didn’t mean anything by it. He’s an idiot, but–” She jumped when Elf Man hit Oliver on the head with the bat, not hard, but enough to cause pain.
“Is that right, Oli? You didn’t mean to hurt my feelings?”
Muffled, gibberish, her boyfriend’s response sounded a lot like, “Fuck you!”
She tried to grab the pom’s attention. “He didn’t mean that. He’s concussed.”
Isla screamed when Elf Man used all the power he could muster to crack the top of Oliver’s head with the bat, the sound of cracking skull enough to make her puke.
Blood dripped from the bat before he brought it crashing down a second time.
Listening to Elf Man swear at his victim, she cried, “You’re killing him!”
Watching the pom beat her boyfriend to death, she sobbed.
Oliver coughed and spluttered after the third and fourth batting.
Elf Man kicked Oliver’s chest, tipping the chair on its back.
She gasped when Elf Man continued to batter her boyfriend’s beautiful face with the blood-soaked bat, each time spraying the walls a darker crimson.
Scared for her life, she struggled with her restraints. They were tied so tight, she held little hope of freedom.
Out of breath, Elf man pointed the bat at her. “He deserved that,” he said, surveying his handiwork. “And you deserve better than him, let me tell you.”
Isla couldn’t stop crying; she kept staring at the bloody mess that was once Oliver. His legs twitched. “You bastard! I’m gonna fucking kill you!”
Mr Invisible Page 15
