The Good Samaritan: A heart-stopping and utterly gripping emotional thriller that will keep you hooked

by C J Parsons

  ‘The DCI is already on her way here.’ Carrie’s voice sounded hollow and distant in her own ears, and she wondered dimly whether discovering Sofia gone had somehow damaged her senses: sent a shock wave through her skull that had ruptured her ear drums.

  ‘Still, we should tell her to hurry, and to send backup.’

  The front door was ajar – she had forgotten to close it – and Carrie ran through it with Tara in her wake, stopping when she reached the dining area.

  ‘Send it where?’ Her legs felt rubbery, so she held on to the back of a wooden chair, leaning against it. ‘We don’t know where he’s taken her. A shed somewhere.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’ Tara said the words slowly, hands dropping to her hips, eyes narrowing.

  ‘What do you mean? Explain to me.’

  ‘Think about it; the previous abductions were planned in advance. And in both cases, the aim was for the girls to be found and freed. First by Josh himself, so he could bring Sofia back and become your hero. And as for Zoe . . . He would have wanted her to be discovered too, along with that bear, to throw suspicion onto me.’ Her eyes moved to the kitchen. The chair pushed up against the counter. The open jars of peanut butter and jam. ‘This feels more . . . spur of the moment. And his motive . . . well, I don’t know exactly what it could be. But it’s different from before.’

  ‘I couldn’t read him.’ Carrie’s throat felt thick and dry, as if coated in ash. ‘I couldn’t tell. I thought he was kind: the man who had saved Sofia, someone I could trust, maybe even love. I should have learned by now that I can’t trust anyone.’

  ‘Yes.’ Tara put an arm around Carrie’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze. ‘You can. But blaming yourself for what’s already happened won’t get us anywhere. We need to work this through logically and figure out the best, most useful thing to do next.’ She paused, perhaps expecting Carrie to offer a suggestion. But panic had filled her head with static; she couldn’t think.

  Tara, however, could.

  ‘So . . . Before we call the police, let’s try and work out where Josh would have taken her.’ She was speaking in the same tone she’d used that first day in the park: the one that made Carrie think of teachers. And just as it had back then, that voice made Carrie feel calmer now – as though someone had taken control of the situation.

  ‘Question number one.’ Tara raised her index finger. ‘Where does Josh live?’

  ‘In Clapham. A terraced house off the high street.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘They won’t be there, too public.’ She held up a second finger. ‘Next question: does he have a holiday home? A weekend retreat on the coast or in the Cotswolds?’

  ‘No, he . . .’ She stopped. Saw again the wedge-shaped building alone on a stretch of land that had once been a vineyard.

  This is your mother’s house?

  Yes. Well, technically mine now.

  ‘You’re blinking,’ Tara said. ‘You’ve thought of something.’

  ‘Yes.’ Carrie’s fingers were already scrabbling along the kitchen counter for her car keys. She wasn’t going to just stand here, waiting for other people to come to Sofia’s rescue. Not this time. ‘I think I know where he’s taking her.’

  Alistair took a turn at speed, making the tyres squeal. A group of teenagers drinking beer in a bus shelter raised their tins in a mock toast as the car roared past.

  Juliet’s mobile buzzed and Carrie’s name appeared on the screen.

  ‘We’ll be with you in ten minutes,’ she said, glancing at the GPS.

  But it wasn’t Carrie who answered.

  ‘She won’t be there,’ Tara’s voice said. Juliet could hear traffic in the background and a current of alarm passed through her. One of two suspects in the case was calling from the victim’s mobile, in what was clearly a moving car.

  Shit.

  ‘What’s going on, Tara?’

  A car horn and an angry shout travelled through the phone. She and Alistair weren’t the only ones speeding.

  ‘Josh has taken Sofia. We think he’s bringing her to his mother’s old place in Surrey. We’re on our way there now.’

  Juliet froze, mouth ajar, as though someone had hit pause. Then Alistair did another swerve, rocking her sideways, the seatbelt digging into her ribs, breaking the spell.

  ‘Can you put Carrie on?’ She needed to find out what the hell was going on – but not from Tara. Because one suspect slinging blame at another . . . that wasn’t something she was prepared to take at face value.

  ‘Sorry, but she needs to focus on driving. As you can imagine, this situation is very stressful, so you can’t really expect her to drive and talk on the phone at the same time. Also it’s illegal. But if there’s anything you’d like to say to her, I’d be happy to pass it along.’ She sounded remarkably calm for a woman racing towards a potentially dangerous criminal. It made Juliet wonder whether Tara knew something they didn’t. ‘You can meet us there. It’s called The Vineyard and it’s in . . . ‘

  ‘South-east Surrey,’ Juliet finished, knocking Alistair with an elbow to draw his attention to her words. He must have got the message because he pulled into the left-hand lane, which fed onto the motorway that would take them there. ‘I know where it is. We’ll handle things from here. I want the two of you to turn back immediately and let us deal with this. Understood?’

  ‘Carrie is very determined to go and get her daughter. And anyway, are you sure your way is best? If Carrie really is what he wants, she might be able to talk him into handing Sofia over quietly, without provoking him or making him feel cornered. He’ll listen to her.’

  Carrie is very determined.

  Is she, though, Tara? Juliet thought. Or are you?

  ‘That’s not a good idea,’ she said firmly, careful not to let her suspicion show through. She needed to create the impression that they were on the same team, working together to catch the bad guy. ‘I know how to deal with sensitive situations like these. I have the training. If you go blundering in there without a plan, you’ll only put everyone in danger.’

  She wished she could see Tara’s face right now, could see her eyes. What would she find in them? Concerned determination . . . or calculating duplicity?

  But all she had to go on was a voice on the phone. Words she could barely make out against the hiss of traffic.

  A pause. Then: ‘You’re right. We need a plan.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m saying!’

  ‘I think I – Carrie, watch out!’ There was a screech of tyres and an angry horn. ‘Sorry, I have to go.’

  ‘Do not approach Josh Skelter under any circumstances! Do you hear me? You don’t know what he’s capable of!’

  But Tara was already gone.

  Thirty-six

  ‘Turn here,’ Tara said, looking up from her iPad, which was showing the map from Josh’s magazine.

  Carrie swerved off the road and onto a long, pot-holed driveway, wheels spitting gravel. The bouncing headlights picked out tall weeds in the middle and bushes leaning in from both sides. Branches lashed the car. The driveway wound left, rising towards open ground. They rounded another curve, and, suddenly, there it was: Ava Skelter’s wedge-shaped house, sketched grey by the moonlight.

  ‘Is that Josh’s car?’ Tara pointed to a smear of deeper darkness in the shadows beside the house.

  Carrie leaned closer to the windscreen, eyes probing the gloom, until she was able to make out the hulking shape of Josh’s SUV, veiled by the branches of a willow. Her heart banged against the walls of her chest. He was here. Which meant Sofia was here too. Carrie stomped on the accelerator instinctively, the pitted surface making the car lurch and wallow like a ship in a storm.

  ‘Stop!’ Tara put a hand on the steering wheel. ‘We don’t want him to know we’re here yet.’

  Of course. She should have thought of
that. Carrie pulled over to the edge of the driveway, branches scratching the side of the car and crowding up against the passenger window. She switched off the engine. Her breathing sounded loud in the sudden silence. Loud and fast.

  The two of them sat staring up at the house. Tara leaned towards the windscreen, squinting.

  ‘It looks like there’s a light on downstairs.’

  ‘There’s no electricity. It must be a kerosene lamp.’ Carrie stared at the wavering glow. The thought of her daughter in danger, somewhere in that house, was like a hook in her chest, pulling. She unclicked her seatbelt, but Tara grabbed her arm.

  ‘Not yet. Let’s go back over the plan.’

  ‘I already know—’

  ‘I couldn’t show you the pictures when you were driving. I think you should see them. It will make things clearer.’ She held the tablet in front of Carrie, flicking away the map, whisking through the pages of Josh’s magazine until she reached the now familiar image of a living room with an arch at one end and an old-fashioned door at the other. Strappy leather furniture, a folding wooden screen and a steel-framed dining table. Tara swiped away from it for a moment, flicking quickly to the blueprints before returning again. ‘OK. He’s parked by the side door, which leads into the kitchen. So unless he locked the door behind him – and I’ll be surprised if he did, since we’re in the middle of nowhere and he won’t be expecting company – we should be able to go in the same way. I’ll sneak through the door connecting the kitchen to the main room and hide here.’ She tapped the folding wooden screen that divided the living and dining areas. ‘Then you come in and stand facing him from this position.’ She touched a large, black-and-grey carpet patterned with interlocking cubes. ‘You’ll be able to see me, but Josh won’t.’

  ‘And you’ll interpret for me.’

  ‘Yes. Same as with the client. Except using my iPad, since you obviously can’t go in there holding your mobile and looking at it every time he speaks.’ She ran a palm up over her forehead, pushing back her fringe. ‘You should be able to read the screen from there. You’ll have to look to the side a bit, so try to be discreet about that, maybe hold your hand over your eyes, like you’re upset.’ She minimised the photo of the room and tapped on an icon of a cartoon notebook ‘This app lets me write directly on the screen using my finger as a pen, so I can make the words big enough to read. I’ll have to keep the brightness setting low so that he doesn’t notice the light, but you should still be able to see it.’

  ‘OK.’

  Carrie could hear the tick of the engine cooling in the silence that followed. She chewed on a thumbnail, blinking fast, trying to focus, to commit the plan to memory. But it was hard to think clearly with adrenalin chasing through her veins.

  ‘And you remember your answers to the questions we talked about?’

  ‘I think so.’ She felt the tightness in her chest ease ever so slightly. The situation was still bewildering, still terrifying. But at least Tara would be there, guiding her through the shifting maze of expressions, gestures and inflections. Shining a light into the blacked-out spaces.

  Tara sucked air through gritted teeth. ‘Ready?’

  ‘Yes.

  Carrie looked through the windscreen at the house, at the stain of lamplight at one end, moving behind the thin curtains. And felt a creep of doubt.

  ‘You really think this is better than waiting for the police?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘And you believe your plan will work?’

  Carrie turned sideways in her seat to look at Tara. The moonlight made her face look different: cold and hard, as though it were carved out of marble.

  ‘It will work. Trust me.’

  Sofia dreamed that she was back in the shed. But this time, she didn’t yell for help because there was a monster outside and she didn’t want it to hear her and come in.

  She woke with a gasp. Then sat up quickly, blinking with confusion. Because she wasn’t in the shed – but she wasn’t at home either. She was on the floor in a strange place with closed curtains and flickery light.

  ‘Oh good, you’re awake.’

  Josh! He was standing right behind her, holding a metal-and-glass container with a flame inside. Sofia smiled with relief.

  ‘Where are we?’ She looked around. There were sheets covering up all the furniture, so it looked like the room was full of weird-shaped ghosts. ‘I don’t bermember coming here.’

  ‘You fell asleep in the car.’

  ‘Oh. I’m thirsty.’ She pointed at a bottle of clear liquid on the ghost-sofa behind him. ‘Can I have some water?’

  ‘Some . . .?’ He turned to see what she was pointing at. ‘Ah. That isn’t water. You can’t drink it. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to.’

  ‘Where’s Mummy? Is she coming?’

  ‘No, she’s not.’ Josh did a big sigh. ‘You know, Sofia, your mother loves you very much. And sometimes I think that can affect her judgement.’ He sat down on the sheet-covered sofa, sending up a puff of dust. ‘It can get in the way.’

  Get in the way of what? Sofia wondered. But she didn’t ask out loud, because something about being here with just Josh and no Mummy was making little flips happen in her tummy.

  ‘I want to go home now.’ She could hear a quiver inside her voice.

  ‘I’m sorry, but we can’t go just yet. It wasn’t my plan to bring you here tonight, but after seeing Tara talking to your mother . . . Well, let’s just say I don’t think it’s safe there right now. Tara may seem nice, but she’s actually a very dangerous person. And a convincing liar.’ He shook his head. ‘Everything would be so much simpler if your Mummy didn’t feel the need for all these other people in her life even though she has me, ready to give her everything she needs. If only—’

  But then he stopped talking, because of a sound at the other end of the room.

  Footsteps.

  Someone was coming.

  Tara was right: Josh hadn’t bothered to lock the door behind him. They entered the kitchen without a sound, tiptoeing past a large, silent fridge and an ancient-looking stove (still hooked to a gas canister), skirting around a huge kitchen island with empty hooks hanging above it, the pots that had once dangled there long since packed away.

  The door to the living room was open a crack, admitting a seam of watery light. When Carrie heard Sofia’s voice on the other side, the relief was tidal, the force of it nearly winding her.

  The plan was for Tara to make her move while Josh’s back was turned. The screen had been chosen both for its strategic location (not far from the kitchen and off to one side) and because the fringe of latticework along the top would allow her to watch Josh without being seen . . . assuming he was still standing at the other end of the room. And assuming the screen hadn’t been moved since the photo was taken. And that Josh didn’t suddenly turn around again and spot Tara before she got into position.

  Assuming, assuming, assuming.

  The plan that had sounded so solidly constructed just minutes ago now seemed to have been built on quicksand, ready to sink at the slightest vibration.

  Carrie watched, body wired with adrenalin, as Tara slowly eased open the door until it was just wide enough for her to fit through. She gave Carrie a brief nod before slipping through the gap in a running crouch.

  Carrie closed her eyes and counted slowly backward from ten, praying she wouldn’t hear the sound of Josh’s voice shouting at Tara to stop, to come out of there right now.

  Nothing.

  She peered through the gap and saw, with a rush of relief, that the screen was exactly where it had been in the photo. Tara was safely installed behind it.

  So far so good.

  The room looked bigger than it had in the picture and the strappy furnishings were concealed beneath dust covers. Josh was standing at the far end with his back to them. Sofia was on the floor at hi
s feet, illuminated by the lamp he was holding. Carrie fought the impulse to run straight over and sweep her into a hug.

  You have to watch every move you make around him, she reminded herself. He’s not the man you thought he was. Someone capable of abducting two little girls is capable of anything.

  There was no room for error. She had to stick to the plan. Take everything one slow, careful step at a time. She drew in a long breath, filling her lungs. Released it slowly. OK. Time to make her move.

  Throwing open the door, she strode into the living room, making no attempt at stealth, Tara’s instructions replaying in her memory (‘Walk into that room like you belong there, like you’ve got nothing to hide.’)

  She stopped in the middle of the black-and-grey carpet: behind and to the left of the spot where Tara now crouched, watching Josh’s reactions through the gaps in the latticework.

  He swung around to face her, mouth opening.

  ‘Carrie? What the—’

  ‘Hello, you two,’ she interrupted. ‘How are you getting on?’

  ‘What are you doing here? I thought you were with . . .’

  ‘Mummy!’ Sofia jumped up and tried to run to her, but Josh grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her backward, making her cry out.

  ‘Stay here with me for a sec, poppet,’ he said, and wrapped an arm across her chest, trapping her against him.

  Carrie looked straight at him.

  ‘I came here to join you both. I thought it would be nice if you showed us around the house, then the three of us can travel home together.’

  ‘I want to go home now.’ Sofia tugged at the restraining arm with both hands. ‘Josh, let go!’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s not going to happen,’ he said, raising the lamp higher so that the light spread outward, catching Carrie’s face. She placed a hand to her forehead, screening her eyes as her gaze shifted sideways to Tara, who was writing something on the tablet with her fingertip. She turned the screen to face Carrie.

  ‘Freaked out, thrown off stride,’ it said. Then she cleared the screen before adding: ‘CALMLY ask why not.’