Darkest Night

by Jenny O'Brien

  She must have dropped off. One minute she was berating herself for being the worst kind of fool and the next she was blinded by the light streaming in from the open boot.

  ‘God, you’re disgusting. You stink. Couldn’t you have waited.’ His voice was harsh, his hands wrenching under her arms and pulling her head-first out of the car. ‘Bitch. I’ll bet you wet yourself on purpose.’

  Before she knew it, he was dragging her along the ground, her bound feet scraping grooves into the grass. She couldn’t speak because of the tape covering her lips but her vision was starting to acclimatise, not that it did her any good. She didn’t know where he’d taken her and, with her watch nowhere in sight, she had no idea how long she’d been cooped up in the car. But by the changes in the light she guessed it must be heading for the evening, which meant she’d been bound and gagged for nearly ten hours. Would anyone have missed her by now? She bloody well hoped so. But even if they had … even if they’d called in the troops, she was in the middle of what looked to be nowhere. There were hills all around and a glimpse of sea between but no sign of life, either human or animal. No sign of anything other than the slate-roofed farmhouse in front of her, its air of neglect and For Sale sign telling a story she didn’t want to hear.

  He let her go, not caring that her head lolled back straight onto the path, but she was adamant that she wouldn’t react even if her brains spilled all over the pavement. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting to her. Her mind turned to thoughts of Tim but, heaving a sigh, she blanked him out. He couldn’t help her now. She had to help herself but, with her hands and legs bound, there was little she could do.

  He’d stopped speaking after those first furious words, but she knew he was angry by the way he grabbed her under the arms and yanked her over the threshold. His next words filled her with dread.

  ‘It’s the shower for you and there’s no electricity – I’m sure you won’t mind the cold.’

  The shower was part of an en-suite, but that wasn’t what caused her skin to crawl. It was the sight of the double bed that took up most of the room, its mattress bare and stained with age. She knew what had happened to Christine just as she knew the fate that had befallen Tracy. She’d rather die first but, with no method available …

  Chapter 43

  Gaby

  Thursday 14 May, 4.45 p.m. Llandudno

  Jim Mackay, owner of the Diamond Emporium, was busy serving a customer but not for long. One flash of Owen’s warrant card and he swiftly handed over to his colleague before gesturing for them to follow him through a curtained door at the back of the shop.

  ‘There’s nothing worse than a copper for tightening a man’s wallet, Detective,’ he said with a smile that would make any dentist proud. His hair was another matter. But the wearing of a toupee wasn’t currently on Gaby’s list of arrestable offences even if it should have been, her gaze on the black matted rug balanced on top of his head like a crown.

  ‘We won’t keep you long, sir,’ she said, stressing the sir with a brief smile. ‘We need to get in touch with Casper Stevens as a matter of urgency and his wife suggested that—’

  ‘Is everything all right?’ he interrupted, his smile disappearing. ‘The boys?’

  ‘The boys are fine. Now, what can you tell us about where Mr Stevens would have gone if he’s not at the shop or at home?’

  He frowned, lifting his hand to his hair only to drop it back to his side, his eyes now focusing on the pale grey carpet under his polished shoes. ‘I really can’t say. We used to spend time together but not for a while now. If I’m honest I thought that he was avoiding me.’

  ‘And why would he do that?’

  ‘Janice and my wife are friends. She dropped a hint a few weeks ago that she thought they were having some marital problems.’

  ‘What sort of problems?’ Owen asked, propping himself against the nearest wall.

  ‘Oh, the usual, I suppose. You’d really have to speak to the wife but, after Janice came out of hospital, apparently, she moved into the spare room – not that I blame her. Poor woman. Casper is a man that likes all his home comforts if you get my drift,’ he said, sending a smirk in Owen’s direction.

  ‘Why exactly was Mrs Stevens in hospital?’ Gaby pursed her lips, well aware of the silent conversation going on between the two men.

  ‘Cancer. Again, the wife knows more but from what I understand she had to have her womb removed in the end and then chemo or was it radiotherapy? Whatever it was, she lost all her hair.’ He shook his head briefly. ‘Well, I’m sorry if I can’t be of any other use. I haven’t seen good old Casper for ages, not since his old man’s funeral.’

  Gaby felt the hairs tingle on the back of her neck. Janice Stevens had mentioned the death of his parents, but it wasn’t something she’d thought to question.

  ‘Tell me about his father?’

  ‘Not a lot to tell. Didn’t last two minutes after his wife died. He was a nice old boy though – used to be a GP. Casper tried to follow in his footsteps but switched to pharmacy after he failed his exams. I only went to the funeral out of respect really. They had an old stone farmhouse outside of Caernarfon I believe. You know the sort, no mod-cons. Casper was having a devil’s own job trying to sell it.’

  Chapter 44

  Christine

  Thursday 14 May, 4.45 p.m. Llandudno

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me.’

  Christine faced her ex-husband across the table, a cappuccino cradled between her hands.

  ‘You didn’t really give me any choice,’ she said, concentrating on his lips. Despite the time Costa, along Mostyn Street, was busy and, as such, not the best of places in which to carry out a conversation with a soon to be, deaf person. Her mouth twisted at the thought, the pale shimmer of lip-gloss catching the light – lip-gloss she’d applied as an afterthought.

  She hadn’t dressed up for the occasion. In fact, she viewed it as an act of self-preservation to make sure she both looked and acted normally, whatever that was. So, the garment of today was a floaty dress in shades of green, which he’d seen many a time, teamed with an ancient cardigan in burnt orange. Her hair she’d pulled back off her face, securing it into a tight ponytail, a look she knew he detested. That gave her the little spark of courage she needed to stay sitting opposite a man who’d barely said two words since picking her up from Kelly’s two-up, two-down halfway along Brook Street.

  ‘No, well …’

  He glanced down at the table and started to play with his teaspoon, his fingers twisting it over and over as if struggling to find something to say.

  She heaved a sigh, reluctant to take the conversation into her own hands but if she didn’t want to spend the rest of the afternoon staring at the top of his head then she’d better speak up. Being in his company was still torture and she couldn’t see that changing any time soon. She loved him. She’d always love him. But fate, or whatever else you wanted to call it, had decided to interfere. She swept her lids closed at the futility of them even being in the same room together. It hurt and she was honest enough to recognise that he felt the same way. Raising her mug, she took a deep sip, trying to steady her nerves. She had to be the strong one here. She had to be strong for both of them.

  ‘Paul. I had thought that, after the break-up, it would be best if we didn’t see each other again.’

  He lifted his head, his gaze sliding to meet hers with a look so bleak that she struggled not to reach out and take his hand.

  ‘Best for whom exactly?’ he said finally, lifting up the spoon again before dropping it on the table with a clatter.

  ‘Please don’t be like this. It’s hard enough …’

  ‘It certainly is.’ She watched him shake his head and her heart broke all over again at the sight. With a sudden jerk, she pushed away from the table, the chair legs scraping along the floor. She shouldn’t have agreed to see him even if it was urgent. It was too hard, too heart-wrenching. ‘I’m sorry but I can�
��t do this …’

  He grabbed her hand, his fingers warm against her stone-cold palm, his look beseeching. ‘Stay. Please. I … I promise I’ll say my piece and be done.’

  ‘Five minutes then,’ she said, settling back in her chair.

  ‘I have something to tell you, something that’s going to be difficult. It’s difficult enough for me.’ He heaved his shoulders, his eyes roaming over her face before continuing. ‘That Detective Darin woman has been in touch. There’s been a development in the case.’ He lowered his voice to a mere whisper. ‘The husband of the second victim is in hospital – he’s just tried to take his own life.’

  She stared back, unable to break eye contact even if she’d wanted to.

  ‘Oh God. They had kids, didn’t they? What must he have been thinking?’

  He shoved a pile of paper napkins into her hand. ‘He probably wasn’t – most likely a gut reaction to the news that he’d lost the love of his life.’ His voice was dry.

  She eyed him through a haze of tears, realising that he wasn’t only talking about the Prices. ‘Paul, you do know that I didn’t want to cause you any harm?’

  ‘Then why walk?’ he said, his expression fixed. ‘Did you honestly think that you going deaf would have made any difference to how I felt?’ He removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose before replacing them. ‘You must have a very poor opinion to think of me in that light.’

  All colour left her face at his words. ‘Who told you?’

  ‘That is completely irrelevant.’ He grabbed her hand again, this time his fingers tight around her wrist. ‘What on earth were you thinking? I loved you, for God’s sake. I loved you with every heartbeat. Hearing, sight, smell, touch, taste. You could have lost the lot and it would still have been irrelevant.’ He let go of her hand and, standing, it was his turn to push away from the table, his drink untouched. ‘The reality is you didn’t love me enough.’

  Her mouth dropped open. She’d thought she was doing what was best but, by the look of the broken man in front of her, busily slipping his arms into his jacket, she’d failed on all counts.

  She stood, lifting her chin in defiance. ‘If anything, I loved you too much to want you to be saddled with a—’

  ‘And who gave you the right to make decisions on my behalf, hmm?’ he said, raising his voice. ‘I’m old enough and ugly enough to make my own.’

  She watched him turn his back and storm out the café, her heart going with him. Her emotions surged but she wouldn’t break down, not here, not now. She blinked, squeezing back the tears. Tears of regret for the mess she’d made of everything. Her thoughts shifted to what he’d said about the Prices. There was her bemoaning the loss of her hearing when those kids had lost their mother and now possibly their dad. And suddenly, tears streaming down her face, she grabbed her coat and bag and raced out of the café, not bothering who she knocked into in the process. If he still loved her, and that was a big if, she’d spend the rest of her life trying to make it up to him.

  She caught him outside Billy Lal’s Market and, grabbing his arm, pulled him to a halt. ‘I never thought you a coward, Paul. Running out on a woman you’ve just professed undying love for, a woman that still loves you despite everything,’ she said, her voice thick with tears.

  His fingers clenched around her arm. She’d have bruises later, but the odd bruise was nothing to the fire lighting up his face. Her Paul, back where he belonged was all that mattered. Her face tilted to meet the sudden onslaught of his mouth.

  She’d come home.

  Chapter 45

  Amy

  Thursday 14 May, 6 p.m. Caernarfon

  The water was freezing, just like he’d warned. She sat, huddled in the bottom of the shower, resisting every attempt to stand. It was all she could do. The only thing she could do. He hadn’t even cut the strapping to her wrists and legs like she’d hoped. She knew a fair bit about martial arts and would certainly have tried to give as good as she got, despite the marked difference in both their height and physique. But he must have had the same idea. Instead of undressing her in the traditional sense, he’d grabbed a pair of scissors and cut through the seams before hurling her onto the shower tray and reaching in a hand to turn on the spray. Shampoo came next, some cheap brand smelling of lemon.

  Amy was fussy about her hair. It was her one luxury. Born mousey, every six weeks she took the financial hit of having a decent cut and highlights. Brown for her spelt boring unless it was that unique shade with reddish undertones that Gaby was born with. She shut her eyelids, trying to avoid the shampoo running down her face. She didn’t think she’d be able to tolerate having someone touch her hair ever again.

  She knew there was more. She knew what must come next if he was to keep to his plan. The next bit would be the hardest of all, and her mind filled with Tim and the future they’d planned.

  The sound of a mobile ringing dragged her back to the present and she watched as he stepped back and pulled out his phone, a frown descending.

  ‘Ronan?’

  He walked out of the room, leaving her alone for the first time since opening the boot. But fat lot of good it would do with her hands still tied. Lifting her arms up, she rubbed her wrists over her head and the shampoo that lingered before trying to loosen the strapping,

  Chapter 46

  Gaby

  Thursday 14 May, 6.30 p.m. Caernarfon

  ‘Where the hell are we?’

  ‘In the middle of nowhere,’ Gaby said, peering out of the windscreen at the driving rain that had set in as soon as they turned left onto the A55. ‘If the Satnav’s right, we should see the sea in the distance.’

  ‘In this rain? I can barely see the road let alone the horizon,’ Owen said, his mouth tightening. ‘If that bastard has laid a finger on her, Gaby, I swear I won’t be responsible for my actions.’

  ‘I’m right with you, Owen.’ Gaby jerked forward, pointed ahead. ‘There. Right in front of us. The sea, so at least we’re in the right area.’ She turned in her seat. ‘If the Satnav’s right, we’re only a couple of minutes away and I really have no intention of alerting him to our presence.’

  ‘If indeed they’re there, ma’am,’ Owen said. ‘This eggs in one basket scenario isn’t how I like to play it.’

  ‘We had no choice, as you bloody well know. Now stop faffing and find somewhere to pull in as soon as you see the outline of the house.’ She smoothed her hand over the estate agent’s details resting on her lap, her stomach curling at the thought of what they were going to find. A lot could happen in the time since he’d left the chemist.

  She sighed. The ANPR had tracked Ronan’s car as far as the A55 and no further. So, while they had a fair idea of where Casper was heading, they couldn’t be certain. They couldn’t even be sure that he’d got Amy with him. The truth was they were guessing but guesses were all they had right now. Guesses and a copper’s instinct.

  ‘What’s that?’ she said, trying to make out the shapes between the lashing rain and busy wipers. ‘Owen, pull over here – we’ll continue on foot. Don’t worry. There’s a couple of anoraks in the back.’

  ‘Don’t tell me. I can have the pink one.’

  Chapter 47

  Amy

  Thursday 14 May, 6.30 p.m. Caernarfon

  ‘There’s been a change of plan.’

  Amy froze, her hands on her lap, the fingers of her right hand trying and failing to squeeze her left hand through its prison of tape. So close and yet so far. She had small hands and fingers, something Tim had teased her about only a couple of days ago. She’d laughed then, joining him in the joke. She wasn’t laughing now.

  Before she knew it, he’d doused her with cold water again, removing most of the soap before wrapping her in a towel and manhandling her into the next room and throwing her across the bed. Within seconds he was beside her, his hands now in her hair.

  ‘Such beautiful hair, even though it’s the wrong colour,’ he mused almost to himself, stretching a lock so far a
s to make her grimace. ‘Don’t they say gentlemen prefer blondes but, for me, only red will do. It’s never been about the woman. Tall. Short. Fat or thin. If they don’t have red hair, I’m not interested. However, with you I’m prepared to make an exception.’

  He moved on the bed, causing her to roll into the centre of the mattress, his voice changing, becoming almost lover-like in its tone. ‘Time is one thing we don’t have. I want nothing more than for us to be together.’ His hand trailed a path down her cheek before spreading the towel and feasting his gaze. ‘So beautiful but so little time. I had such plans when I saw you for who you are. A copper coming to snoop.’ His hands wandered across her cold skin, the smooth feel of his palm forcing air from her lungs and blood from her face. ‘There’s so much I want to do,’ he continued, his eyes hardening.

  She turned her head away, focusing on the dingy wall, stained with black mildew. This tall, handsome man was mad and with that thought Amy Potter gave up hope of ever being able to free herself from his clutches. She relaxed her muscles, letting the tension ease out of her limbs while she tried to focus on the one thing that this man could never touch – her love for Tim.