UNWELCOME GUESTS: An atmospheric, suspenseful thriller

by Anna Willett

  “If you let Blyte in, he’ll kill you.” She could hear Felix panting now, as if exhausted. “Let me out and I’ll help you.”

  Caitlin grabbed the tea towels and left the room.

  Kneeling next to Eli, she folded the fabric into two ten-centimetre squares. The blood on the blanket hadn’t spread much since she went to the kitchen. Good or bad sign, she wasn’t sure.

  Steeling herself, Caitlin pulled the blanket away from the wound. A breath caught in her throat. The area around the entry point looked shredded and puckered, the underlying tissue, bloody and raw. Bile, that she’d forced back only moments before threatened to rise again. Only by taking slow, even breaths and forcing her mind to latch on to what had to be done, was she able to continue.

  She held the folded square to the wound. Apply pressure. They were about the only two words she remembered from a long-ago first aid class in high school. She pressed on the fabric trying to ignore the squelch that come from the pulpy mess under the tea towel. Eli groaned and opened his eyes.

  “I’m sorry.” She hoped she wasn’t doing more harm than good.

  “Where…is he?” Eli’s lips, tinged with violet, moved slowly as if the effort of speaking drained whatever strength he had left.

  “Don’t worry about him.” She couldn’t resist snatching a glance towards the kitchen.

  The constant slamming ceased. The silence was worse. At least when Felix was banging the door, she knew what he was up to. The thought of his mouth in the crack of the door, whispering and cajoling made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. How long would it be before he managed to break through the door or loosen the extension cord?

  Eli’s eyes were closed again, his breathing slow and shallow, the tea towel, slippery and sodden beneath her fingers. Rather than removing the bloody wad, she pressed the second tea towel over the top and continued to keep the pressure on the wound. Around her, the house fell silent.

  Her eyes lingered on the fringed edge of the blanket, once a cheerful yellow, now crimson and sitting in a pool of rapidly congealing blood. She tried to recall a time when she’d felt this lonely. Her memory responded by spitting up an image of sunlight, dappled through the window of a moving car. Voices, like a forgotten echo, raised in cheerful song. The bloody mess on the floor distorted and she let out a sob that quickly turned into a wail.

  “Is someone there?” The voice came from the front door and was quickly followed by a rapid succession of knocks.

  Caitlin stifled a scream and let go of the wadded-up tea towel. Since Felix appeared with the gun, there’d been no time to worry about Blyte. Now he was at the door, Caitlin realised she’d heard nothing from her brother-in-law since he left the house.

  Over the last half an hour, the world had turned upside-down leaving Caitlin so off balance, she felt like she was standing on the roof of a skyscraper. Trying to decide what to do next made her feel like she tottered towards the edge about to fall. Thoughts and doubts tugged her in different directions until she was paralysed.

  “I heard the gun,” Blyte’s voice was deep, almost commanding. “Has someone been shot?”

  Caitlin wanted to answer—ask for help. But could she take the risk not knowing if the man on the other side of the door was as dangerous as the one in the cellar? Hands balled into fists, she grappled with the possibilities. This strange house of horrors belonged to Blyte, what did that say about the man? What about Jace? He’d gone outside to face Blyte and vanished.

  “Can you hear me, Felix?” The name alone sent a shudder of panic through Caitlin’s body. She listened as Blyte continued. “What have you done to those people?” Blyte’s voice rose to a threatening growl, “You sick little freak, let me in.”

  Caitlin winced. The very air seemed charged with violence as if the house itself fed the stuff into its occupants like poison gas. Now she was its prisoner and whichever way she turned it offered only more terror.

  “You won’t get away with it, not this time.” Blyte thumped the door, sending a shudder through the heavy wood. “I won’t let you. You got off easy last time, a few years in the hospital dribbling lies about how fucked up your parents made you and all the time laughing about how smart you think you are.” There wasn’t just anger in the man’s voice, but pain. “You can’t stay in there forever.” Another thump. “Tell me what you did with my sister!” Blyte’s voice broke. The hopeless desolation in his plea made her heart ache.

  Amy. Suddenly everything made sense. Felix was dangerous. No, more than dangerous, insane—a predator. Earlier on Blyte said all he wanted was answers. She realised he didn’t bring Felix to the house because Blyte enjoyed torturing people. He’d locked Felix in the cellar out of desperation. He wanted to know what happened to his sister, Amy. With understanding came a flicker of hope. Maybe Blyte isn’t the enemy. He might be her only hope.

  “Where’s my brother-in-law?” If she was going to trust him, she had to know what he’d done with Jace.

  “Who’s there? I heard a shot, what happened?”

  “Answer my question. Where’s my brother-in-law?” Caitlin hoped her voice sounded stronger than she felt.

  “He’s fine. Tried to get to the car, so I tied him up round the side of the house.” Blyte sounded irritated at having to explain himself. “Now tell me what’s going on in there. Better still, open the door.”

  Caitlin had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth. For all she knew, Jace was lying face down out in the dark somewhere. But time was running out, if Eli didn’t get medical help soon, he’d die. She had no choice but to take a chance on Micky Blyte.

  “My husband’s been shot.” Her voice echoed off the walls. “He’s badly hurt, unconscious. Felix tried to…” She couldn’t bring herself to put it into words. “He’s got the gun.”

  “Jesus.” The word whistled out in a rush of either anger or surprise, she wasn’t sure which. “Where is he?”

  “I locked him in the cellar, but the way I rigged the door won’t hold long.”

  His next question took her by surprise. “What’s your name?”

  She looked down at her blood-stained hands, still clenched into fists. “Caitlin.” She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, turning the horrific scene into a hazy red blur. “I’m Caitlin Frost.”

  “I’m Micky.” The exchange of names seemed formal, almost old-fashioned under the circumstances. The urge to laugh bubbled up Caitlin’s throat. Instead she gritted her teeth, afraid the laughter would get tangled in her mouth and come out as a pitiful shriek.

  “Caitlin, open the door.” Something in his voice, a solidness that reminded her of old cowboy movies she’d watched with Eli. Whatever it was, made her want to trust him.

  “Okay, it’s barricaded with a big wooden cabinet. I don’t know if I can move it.”

  For a second there was silence, the only sounds came from Eli’s shallow breathing and her pulse beating in her ears. The moment stretched. She wondered if he’d simply walked away and left her. The thought took root and she felt panic turning in her stomach like a spinning top with sharp edges.

  “Unlock the door first.” When he spoke, Caitlin felt a rush of relief. An hour ago she’d been terrified of Blyte. She’d imagined him as a giant with burning red eyes ready to tear them all limb from limb. Now, she’d pinned all her hopes on a man she’d never even seen. Yet, rather than seeming to be taking a huge risk, her gut told her she could trust Blyte. More than trust him. Something in his voice, pulled at her soul as if he knew her pain. An impossible rush of emotion that made no sense, but in the midst of the nightmare, she was ready to follow her instincts. “See if you can shift it. I only need enough room to get my shoulder through and then I can push from my side.”

  “Okay. Yes, I’ll try.” Before standing, she pulled the blanket back up and tucked it around Eli’s shoulders.

  Legs numb from kneeling, Caitlin moved to the door. She scooted around the cabinet to the right and slid the heavy bolt back from acro
ss the top of the door. The bolt moved with a dusty metal-on-metal grind. Once more, the slab reminded her of a church door.

  “Okay,” she raised her voice so Blyte could hear her. “Bolt’s undone. I’m going to try to shift the cabinet.” It felt good to be doing something, making progress instead of giving in to fear.

  The cabinet looked like it weighed at least a hundred kilos, the far side wedged flat against the door. Caitlin tried standing in front of the heavy piece of furniture and pulling but quickly gave up on the idea.

  “How’s it going?”

  “I’m trying to get a…” She stopped. Her attention had been so focused on talking to Micky and getting the door open, she hadn’t realised how silent the house had become until the hush was broken.

  A twanging, barely audible, like the noise a skipping rope makes when pulled taunt. Caitlin tilted her head to the side and brushed back her hair, straining to hear.

  “What’s happening?” Standing next to the door, Micky’s voice sounded so close, so solid.

  Caitlin opened her mouth to answer when she heard another twang from the kitchen. A warm trickle of sweat ran down her chest.

  She pressed her face to the edge of the door and whispered, “I think he’s coming.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Jace worked the noose, pressing and pushing the skin on his neck with one hand and then shifting the rope a centimetre at a time with the other. Progress was slow and painful. With each shift of the rope, his skin caught and snagged against the noose. In minutes, his face was covered in a mask of sweat and his throat burned with thirst.

  When Blyte left, he took the light with him, leaving Jace in almost pitch darkness. He could hear a voice from the front of the house. Blyte was talking to someone, but Jace could only hear one side of the conversation and that was muffled at best. The only thing he was sure of was the shot. Someone had fired the gun.

  With his fingers pressed to his throat, he could feel his pulse racing just under the skin. His imagination threw up a tangle of possibilities about what was happening inside the house, none of them pleasant. He pulled in a breath through his nose and gave the rope a final twist bringing it to a stop against his Adam’s apple.

  From what he could tell, Blyte had rigged some sort of two-rope binding running between a couple of trees. Jace cursed as he fumbled over the complicated knot that held the noose in place. Where did this guy learn how to tie knots? At this rate, he’d still be trying to figure his way out of the noose when the sun came up.

  Jace slumped from his knees back onto his butt. The sound of frogs croaking out their night-time song surrounded him, growing louder by the minute. His mind went back to the gunshot.

  Could it have been an accident? Maybe Eli dropped the gun and it went off. It was plausible. Eli had never really handled a gun. Outside of a few hunting trips with their uncle when they were teenagers, neither he nor his brother had fired a gun.

  No, he corrected himself. I don’t know what Eli does, not anymore. It was true, he’d only found out about his brother’s affair by accident. Running into him in the city three weeks ago, Jace remembered the look in his brother’s eyes. A shifting nervousness belonging to someone with a secret. If not for that look, Jace might have believed his brother’s story about having lunch with a client, despite the way the fresh-faced brunette in the red dress held Eli’s hand, clutching it close to her slim body as they stepped onto the street.

  Jace ran into them coming out of a boutique hotel on Adelaide Terrace and almost kept walking. At first glance, he barely recognised the smiling man with the hot little brunette as his brother. Jace snatched a second look at the couple. Maybe because they looked so blissful, or maybe the angle of the man’s shoulders, the familiar tilt of the head, was what drew Jace’s stare.

  “Eli?” Jace had spoken his brother’s name and watched the smile slide away, replaced by a look stricken with shame.

  “Hi.” The smile came back on Eli’s face, but gone was the carefree beam. Replaced by a frozen mask of false pleasantness. “This is Sherri. She’s a rep for Ulton Pharmaceuticals.” Eli slipped his hand free of Sherri’s grasp, ignoring the questioning look on the woman’s face.

  “Right.” Jace, wearing sawdust-covered khakis, nodded to the woman at his brother’s side.

  “This is my brother, Jace.” Eli spoke rapidly, not giving Sherri a chance to respond.

  For a moment, the three of them had stood on the terrace as office workers swarmed past, side-stepping the group who dared hold up the flow. Jace knew his brother was waiting for him to speak, to break the tension. Maybe even buy into the little charade. Instead he focused on Eli’s eyes. They skipped from the line of traffic rolling past to the entrance to the hotel, anywhere but Jace’s face.

  Finally, it was the woman who broke the spell. “Well, I’d better get going. More meetings this afternoon.” She nodded to Jace and flashed a dazzling smile. “It was nice to meet you.”

  Jace nodded but kept his mouth clamped shut, knowing if he spoke, he’d say too much. He knew Eli and Caitlin were having problems. He’d been with his brother at the hospital when he overheard his wife telling the doctor about an abortion she’d had at fifteen. Eli’s reaction had been beyond all reason. He'd stormed out of the hospital as if he’d just found out Caitlin had shot the Pope. But now this. An affair. None of it had made sense.

  “Yeah. I’ll walk you to your car.” Eli looked relieved to have an excuse to end the awkward meeting. “Nice seeing you. I’ll call you later.” He didn’t wait for Jace to respond, but stepped around his brother and headed towards the corner.

  Jace turned and watched them walk away. Eli took long purposeful strides, his arms stiff at his side like a man who knew he was being watched. Sherri tottered along behind him, almost stumbling on a set of heels meant more for a nightclub than a business meeting.

  Eli’s promised call never came. That was when the idea of spending a weekend in Blyte’s empty holiday house really took hold. He’d told himself he wanted to help Eli and Cat put their marriage back together, but it wasn’t true. The real reason he wanted them at the house was darker, selfish. I wanted her to see what a shit he is. Jace shifted his butt, feeling the damp ground seeping through the fabric of his shorts. He wanted Cat. He’d always wanted her and he despised his brother for being too weak to appreciate what he had. Jace knew he’d messed everything up. Whatever happened, whoever got hurt, the blame would be on his head.

  He gave the knot another tug. His hands dropped to his thighs. It was no use, Blyte’s knots were too complicated. At this angle, in the dark, he’d never get them undone. Worse than being trapped in the middle of nowhere was the realisation he’d let Cat down. If she were hurt in any way, how would he live with himself?

  Jace curled his hand into a fist and hammered it down on his leg sending a buzz of agony through his thigh. Something solid jarred against his knuckles. He opened his mouth ready to let loose with a stream of invective and stopped. With the speed of a light bulb firing to life, an idea snapped into his brain.

  The lighter. He’d brought it along to use when he lit the joint. You wanted her to smoke the joint, a voice in his head whispered. He pushed the thought aside and pawed through his pocket.

  Jace dropped the lighter into his lap and wiped his sweaty fingers on the front of his shorts. The last thing he needed was for the lighter to slip out of his grasp in the dark. Jace held the flame to the rope and tilted his chin so he could watch as the cord turned brown.

  The smell reminded him of the cigarette Blyte had smoked. “Ha.” The rope disintegrated faster than he’d imagined.

  Within seconds the cord fell and one side of the noose was free. Jace could hear the blood whooshing in his ears. With only one length of rope holding him, there was room to manoeuvre. He stood and took hold of the remaining cord. The lighter felt hot in his hand. When he spun the wheel, he could feel the skin on his thumb burn. Gritting his teeth, he held the lighter to the last piece of rope.<
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  Finally free from the long cords attached to the trees, but with the noose still tight around his throat, he shoved the lighter back in his pocket and stuck his injured thumb in his mouth. The car was out of the question: Blyte had taken the keys. The poker was gone, Blyte again. Jace listened for voices, but aside from the constant hiss of insects and endless croaking of unseen frogs, there was nothing.

  As far as he knew, Cat and Eli were still inside the house so that’s where he’d start. Blyte said he wasn’t a killer and for some reason, Jace believed him. He also believed what he’d said about Felix. From the moment they had found him in the cellar, the guy had grated on Jace. Listening to Felix tell his story left Jace feeling like he’d watched someone acting in a rehearsed way. He had been trying too hard to be genuine, all the while snatching looks at people’s faces. Maybe the best thing for everyone would be for Eli, Cat and Jace to walk away and let Blyte take care of Felix.

  Still with no clear plan outside of reasoning with Blyte, Jace headed for the front of the house. What about the shot? The question kept bouncing around in his brain. As much as he tried to convince himself it was just an accident, a misfire, a crawling feeling in the pit of his gut made him pick up the pace.

  Every few metres, he forced himself to stop and flick on the lighter. It slowed his progress but he didn’t want to take the risk of running into another ambush. Blyte had already proved how lethal he could be. Next time Jace wanted to see him coming.

  When he reached the corner of the building, he ducked into the bushes and flattened himself against the wall. Blyte was speaking again, his voice barely audible. He sounded softer, not so clipped. Jace stepped around the corner hoping to pick up what was being said. He could see Blyte’s outline, it looked like he was pressed against the door.

  A step closer and the words became clear. The hairs on Jace’s arms stood up and the lighter slipped from his fingers. It couldn’t be, the things Blyte said made no sense. Jace broke from the bushes, forgetting everything but reaching the door. He barrelled towards Blyte.