“I don’t recognise you, but he’s that teacher, the one who killed all those people.”
“I didn’t kill—”
Nick held up a hand. “Leave this to me, Alex.” He lowered his head and stared hard into the woman’s eyes. “Did you tell anybody else?”
Her gaze flicked between the pair of us. “Um ...”
Nick raised the knife. “Who was it?”
“I wasn’t sure if you were ... I drove over to see a friend of mine this afternoon and we discussed my suspicions.”
“Did you call the police?”
The woman paled. She nodded.
“When was this?” Nick asked. “What did you tell them?”
“She told me I should do it, so I called about half an hour ago. They took my details and wanted to know how certain I was. I said I couldn’t be sure. That’s why I came around. I thought if I could see him again ...”
“Shit. We need to leave. They could be here any minute.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
Nick studied her with narrowed eyes but said nothing.
“Please don’t kill me. I swear I won’t say you were here.”
“I have no intention of killing you, but we can’t have you shouting for help, so I’ll have to tape your mouth. The police will free you when they arrive. And just so you know, he didn’t do it.”
The woman glanced at me. “I promise I’ll tell them that.”
“Good. I’ll also need your car keys.”
“They’re in my pocket.”
Nick moved to her side, bent down and slipped his hand inside the denim material, frowning distastefully at the damp patch. He tugged free a bunch of keys. Stepping back, he gestured towards her face. “Alex, can you do the honours?”
I tore another strip of tape off the reel and taped it across her mouth.
Nick inspected my handiwork and nodded his approval. “I’ll find the car. Pack your stuff and follow me down. I’ll meet you by the staircase.”
Chapter 36
I limped into the bedroom and grabbed the laptop bag from the bed. The sound of the apartment front door closing travelled along the hallway. I returned to the lounge and scanned the room, checking I had left nothing else behind. The woman stared at me with pleading eyes.
I studied her for a moment, desperately needing to justify my behaviour. “Look, I’m sorry about all this. It’s true what my colleague said; I didn’t commit any of the murders they’re accusing me of. Somebody is trying to frame me.”
She nodded furiously, small whimpering noises escaping through the tape across her mouth.
The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on me. Here I was telling a woman whom we had tied to a chair and gagged that I wasn’t responsible for the string of violent offences that had turned me into a wanted criminal. Until this point, I hadn’t done anything illegal, barring the minor misdemeanour of using another person’s account details to log into the dark website. Now, I was at the very least an accessory to kidnapping and car theft. How could I possibly expect her to believe me?
“Anyway, I’ve got to go. I’m sure the police will find you soon.”
I turned away from her, blowing out a long breath through my mouth. The torn muscle sent shooting pains up my calf as I hobbled towards the entrance, holding the black bag in my hand. As I reached out for the handle, a faint rattling sound penetrated from the other side. Without thinking, I twisted the latch.
The door slammed into my face, sending me sprawling against the wall. Before I had time to react, a man strode through the doorway. He dropped the rucksack he had been holding on the floor, grabbed me by the collar and hauled me across the carpet into the lounge. There, he released his grip, crouched on one knee and smashed a fist into the bridge of my nose. Instinctively, I raised my hands to protect the injury. Another blow crashed into my jaw. Still dazed from the first two punches, I didn’t even see the third as it crunched into my cheekbone.
Everything disappeared into a haze of pain. I closed my eyes and slumped backwards, choking on the blood that poured from my nostrils. Coughing, I rolled onto my side. The man was no longer standing over me. Moments later, I sensed movement and a change in the light level. I eased an eyelid open.
The black denim of his trouser legs occupied my vision. The assailant prodded me with his workman’s boot. “Who’s the woman?”
“Uh ...”
He launched a vicious kick at my stomach. “I asked you a question. Who is she?”
“Neighbour,” I gasped, the air wheezing in my chest.
Through half-open eyes, I watched in horror as he reached into his bag and withdrew a long-bladed knife. He strode over the carpet until he stood behind the woman. She tried to twist her head to see what he was doing. In a flurry of movement, he grabbed her hair with one hand. With the other, he drew the blade across her throat.
Blood spurted from the wound, pumping rhythmically as her heart concluded its final beats. She juddered in the chair, fighting her bonds. Within ten seconds, she lay with her head lolling backwards, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. The man released his grip, stepped around the crimson stain and resumed his position standing over me.
“We can’t have any witnesses now, can we?” he said.
“You didn’t have to kill her,” I croaked through swollen lips.
“Oh, it wasn’t me who killed her. It was you.” He grinned at my confusion. “And then you felt so bad about this murder and all the others, you jumped from the balcony.”
“Who’s paying you to do this?”
The man chuckled. “I’ve no idea. I’m just the hired help.” He bent down and once again seized me by the collar, effortlessly hauling me to my feet. Despite his wiry physique, he seemed to possess immense strength. Standing beside him, I could see he was a good few inches shorter than me. An inch-long scar on his scalp showed through the dark stubble of his buzz cut. His grey eyes displayed a total lack of emotion. He saw me as the rubbish to be thrown out—literally.
“What about my blood on the carpet?” I said, pointing at the stain where I had been lying. “How will the police explain that?” I was stalling for time, and we both knew it.
He jutted his face into mine. “She defended herself and injured you in the process.” The reek of onions and garlic washed over me. “Anyway, that’s enough chitchat. I’ve got a job to finish.”
The sleeve of his dark grey, roll-neck sweater closed around my throat. I tried to break his grip, but he ignored my feeble attempts and frogmarched me to the sliding balcony door.
“Open it,” he commanded.
My fingers fumbled with the latch.
He tightened his stranglehold. “Come on, I haven’t got all day.”
The mechanism clicked, and the pressure released slightly. He reached past me with his free hand and slid the frame across. Once again, I tried to break loose, but he maintained the choke hold with ease and directed me forwards. The cool evening air brushed over my face. My stomach lurched as I contemplated the long fall to the concrete below.
I allowed my body to go limp, saving myself for one final attempt to escape his grip. He manoeuvred me towards the wall. A foot away, I stuck out my good leg and shoved myself backwards with all my strength. The man retained his hold as he staggered into the sheet of glass. I flung back an elbow, but it glanced off his ribs.
The steel band across my neck tightened, and I found myself once again approaching the barrier between the balcony and a hundred feet of freefall. A sudden shove sent me clattering into the brickwork. Strong hands grabbed my ankles and lifted my feet from the floor, catapulting me forwards. I flung out an arm and closed my fingers around the metal rail running along the top of the wall. My momentum carried me over the edge, nearly dislocating my shoulder as the full weight of my body came to an abrupt halt.
My would-be murderer studied me, a cold smile touching his thin lips. He raised his fist and smashed it against my knuckles. My grip loosened as the pain surged th
rough my hand. One more blow and I would plunge to my death, hitting the concrete below at over fifty miles an hour.
I closed my eyes and waited for the end. Suddenly, I sensed movement above my head. Two seconds later a dull thud reached my ears. In confusion, I stared at the concrete below me and immediately spotted a body dressed in dark clothing spread-eagled across the paving slabs. A pool of blood expanded slowly around it.
Nick’s face appeared above me. He grasped my wrist and hauled me upwards. I flopped onto the safety of the balcony floor, gulping in huge lungfuls of air.
“Thanks,” I muttered when I had recovered enough breath to speak.
“My pleasure,” he replied, “but if you don’t mind, we need to get out of here pronto. The police tend to congregate around dead bodies, and there are two of them here.”
Chapter 37
The woman’s eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling as we skirted her dead body. A dark stain, almost black in colour, spread from the gash across her throat and down over her midriff. I had never seen a corpse before that day; now I had witnessed the deaths of two people within the space of a few minutes. An immense sense of guilt washed over me; if we hadn’t trussed her up, she would probably still be alive. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind and followed Nick out of the flat.
He supported the weight on the side of my injured leg as we limped along the corridor to the lifts.
“It would be better to take the stairs,” he said.
“But it’ll be quicker to use the lift, won’t it?” I replied.
“If the police are waiting, I don’t suppose it will make much difference. The lift it is.”
No reception committee awaited us when the doors parted at the foyer. We headed past the potted plants and down the steps towards the parking garage. The neighbour’s blue car, a Citroen Picasso, sat to one side of the roadway, its hazard lights flashing bright orange in the dim illumination of the underground car park.
“Won’t the police be looking for this?” I asked.
“Eventually,” Nick replied, “but by then, hopefully, we’ll be a long way away. I’ll swap the plates with something else if we get the chance.”
“Do I have to go in the back?”
“There’s not much point. They’ll find out we’ve taken it when they do a check.”
I sighed with relief and sank into the passenger seat. Nick took his place behind the wheel and navigated us through the town centre. Several police cars with flashing lights and blaring sirens flashed past travelling in the opposite direction. Each time, I winced in anticipation, expecting them to screech to a halt and block our path, but our journey continued unimpeded.
When we were on a minor road heading north, I turned sideways in my seat. “Tell me what happened.”
Nick stared straight ahead as he replied. “I found the car fairly quickly. When you didn’t appear, I wondered what was going on. I parked by the staircase and headed back up. The door to the flat was slightly ajar. I remember thinking it was a bit strange because I knew I had closed it behind me. As soon as I spotted the dead body, I realised you were in trouble. For a moment, I thought I was too late.
“Then I saw him leaning over the balcony. His attention was so focused on finishing you off, he failed to notice me creeping up. I grabbed him by the legs and tipped him over the edge. He didn’t even scream on the way down.”
“Do you feel bad about killing him?”
Nick’s expression hardened. “Not in the slightest. Let’s face it, he was trying to kill you. If I hadn’t turned up when I did, it would have been you lying in a pool of blood on the concrete.” He flashed me a grin. “And of course, I only get paid if I keep you alive.”
“Well, I’m grateful for your concern,” I said, “but what do we do now?”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Renting another hotel room is out of the question. Your face is plastered all over the news. If anybody saw you, it would be game over. We need to ditch the car too. It won’t be too long before the police work out we took it. It’s too big a risk to keep driving this, even if I change the plates.”
He glanced at the dials on the dashboard. “The tank’s nearly empty too.”
“Can’t we fill it up?”
Nick shook his head. “If there’s one thing you can guarantee at a petrol station, it’s that they have cameras monitoring the forecourt. I suppose I could park some distance away, pretend I’ve run out of fuel and buy a spare container, but they typically only hold a gallon, and that wouldn’t get us far.”
I folded my arms. “You’ve told me a whole load of stuff we can’t do. What do you propose we actually do?”
Nick shrugged. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t know. I’m still thinking.”
As I sat in silence pondering our situation, an idea occurred to me, but I hesitated to voice it. I was sure Nick wouldn’t approve. After a few more miles, he signalled and turned into a lay-by.
I looked across expectantly. He pulled the handle and stepped out onto the kerb. Angling his head inside, he said, “Stay there. I need to stretch my legs.” I watched as he strode ten yards behind the car, stopped and stood facing away from me. He stayed in the same position for two minutes. In a sudden burst of activity, he swung around and marched back to the driver’s door.
He lowered himself into the seat and shifted to face me. “The only suggestion I have is to park up and wait it out. It’ll be uncomfortable, but it’s the lowest risk.”
I twisted sideways and met his gaze. “What about your lady friend?”
Nick frowned. “What are you suggesting?”
“Couldn’t we stay with her?”
“Absolutely not. I can’t involve her in this.”
“But isn’t she already involved. Didn’t you say she arranged the rooms?”
“She’s very careful. She only uses stolen identities.”
I drew a deep breath. “You told me you suspect she knows what you do for a living. Isn’t this a chance to show her that your work has a positive side?”
Nick gave a snort of derision. “You call protecting somebody who’s accused of murder positive?”
“But you know it wasn’t me. I mean, you were with me the whole time.”
“I couldn’t do that to her. She’s already lost too much.”
“Why don’t you at least ask her?”
He glared at me. After what seemed an age, his shoulders slumped. “Alright, I’ll call her. But I’m not promising anything.”
Once again, he opened the door and strode to the same spot behind the car. As I watched, he held the phone to his ear, pacing backwards and forwards. His lips moved occasionally, but he appeared to be doing more listening than talking. Every few seconds he glanced in my direction. Eventually, he returned the mobile to his pocket and stared at me. Then he strolled back to the driver’s door.
“What did she say?” I asked.
“She said she’d help, but I have some conditions of my own. Firstly, you have as little contact with her as possible. Secondly, you leave without question when the contract is up. That means Thursday midnight. Thirdly and most importantly, if the police arrest you, you keep us both out of it.”
“That all sounds fair enough. What happens next?”
“We sleep in the car overnight. Early tomorrow morning while it’s still dark, we hide this car somewhere. My friend picks us up, and we travel back to the house hidden in her car.”
“How far is it?”
“It’s a few miles. Another condition is that you stay in the boot throughout the whole journey.”
I groaned. “Can’t I sit on a seat for once?”
“I don’t want you seeing where we go. If you don’t know where she lives, there’s no chance you could lead anybody else there.”
“But who would I tell? I already agreed to keep quiet about you both if the police get hold of me.”
“It’s not the police I’m worried about,” Nick replied.
Chapter 38
&nb
sp; Twenty-five years ago:
Wednesday, 8th February, 1995
We arrived at the police station just before eight-thirty on the morning after the kidnapping. There had been no progress in the search for Elena. By now, the number of officers involved in the investigation exceeded fifty. My mother and father were due to record an appeal for witnesses at ten o’clock. In the meantime, I was there to meet the sketch artist.
I sat in the reception area with my parents and Cathy. At five to nine, a female officer in a uniform of black skirt and white shirt emerged from the office. A pair of dimples appeared in her cheeks as she smiled at me. I liked her immediately.
“You must be, Alex. My name is Sergeant Davies. Would you like to come with me?”
I rose to my feet, accompanied by the other members of my family.
“I think it would be best if it was just Alex,” she said.
The others sat again as she led me to a small interview room containing a metal table and four plastic chairs.
“Please wait here while I fetch the sketch artist. Can I get you anything to drink?”
I shook my head. “No, thanks.”
Several minutes passed before a man wearing a chequered shirt and blue jeans followed the policewoman into the room. He was in his early thirties, but his mop of frizzy hair was already receding at the temples.
“This is Doug,” she said. “He’s going to try to draw a picture of the person who took your sister. You need to tell him everything you can remember. He’ll come and get me when you’re finished.”
The artist sat beside me and placed a sketch pad on the table. A faint aroma of body odour rose off him. Lacking subtlety, I wrinkled my nose, but he didn’t seem to notice. He withdrew a pencil from his breast pocket. “It’s Alex, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Okay, so you saw the man from your bedroom. What can you tell me about him?”
My pulse raced. The familiar feeling of panic built up in my chest. “I … I can’t remember his face,” I stammered.
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