He Will Find You

by Diane Jeffrey

  I’m trapped in a time loop. It feels like the film Groundhog Day I watched with Louisa when we were thirteen or fourteen. Except that I wonder if I’ll ever escape it or if I’m doomed to live the same day for the rest of my life. I’m not sure if I’ll ever work out what I need to do to escape.

  Ironically, I can’t wait for him to come. Not because I’m hungry. I have no appetite. No, I’m looking forward to his visit because time goes so slowly here. Although he won’t speak to me, his presence is a welcome distraction. And I can take a shower and feel ever so slightly human again. And above all, as I’m unable to hold my own baby, feed her, change her and comfort her, Chloe needs Alex to do that.

  There must be a way to get round him. I replay the evening drill over in my head to see if there’s a moment when this opportunity arises. I have to make a move when he’s least expecting it. I close my eyes to try and see more clearly. But it’s hard to see a way out when there isn’t one and when I open them again, everything is just as muddled and murky. If I do manage to grab Chloe and make a dive out of the door, how far am I going to get before he catches up with me? If I’m fast, I might just about make it down the stairs and as far as the front door. And even if I did make it as far as the drive, I’d be barefoot, with Chloe in my arms. Alex is a runner. I wouldn’t stand a chance.

  My mind wanders back to Louisa. She was a runner, but she didn’t manage to get away from her attacker. She used to win all the school cross-country races. She won the day she was raped. I’d skived off school because I didn’t want to compete. I should have been with her, walking by her side as she took the short cut through the woods on her way home that day. If I’d gone to school, Louisa would still be alive. She wouldn’t have been raped and she wouldn’t have committed suicide.

  The door opens and Alex comes in. He picks up Chloe, who is screaming now, and leaves the room again, cradling our baby in his arms. I’m left in the nursery, alone apart from the fairies frozen mid-flight on the walls, observing me.

  When Alex comes back, I need to be alert. Anything that he does or doesn’t do that differs from the usual routine could be my chance. In the meantime, I need to keep building up his trust. That way, he might lower his guard.

  More time ticks by. When Alex has laid Chloe, clean and calm once more, in her cot, he fetches my tray. He puts it down on the bed next to me and puts his index finger against his lips. When I nod, he rips off my duct tape, making me wince from the sting. Then he removes my gag and I gulp in the air, greedily.

  I decide to talk. Alex has decided, for reasons known only to him, not to speak to me. He doesn’t even speak to Chloe, at least, not in front of me. But it doesn’t mean I have to be mute.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say.

  He looks a little surprised. But he’s not about to break his silence, apparently.

  He takes the key to the handcuffs out of his pocket and releases my wrists. I sit up, rubbing my sore wrists. Not for the first time over the last few days, I scold myself for not taking the key to the handcuffs when I opened that box. Or not taking the handcuffs themselves.

  I eat the dinner. Slowly. Partly because it’s an effort to keep each mouthful down but also because the longer Alex is here, the more chance I have of coming up with a way to get out of here.

  ‘It’s delicious.’

  This time he looks at me suspiciously. Time to change tack.

  ‘Alex, is it really necessary to keep me tied up? You could put a lock on the bedroom door and keep me prisoner here without having to attach me to the bed. I could look after Chloe. She needs me.’

  I look behind me where the handcuffs are lying on the pillow. I have picked off most of the black fur. I had the idea that the cuffs might be a little larger that way, enabling me to pull my wrists out of them. It didn’t work. I merely succeeded in pulling off the skin around my wrists.

  He has a smirk on his face and I think he’s amused by my one-sided conversation. He sits on the bed, close to me, so close I can smell him, his smell mixed with a tinge of sweat from working all day in warm weather. That familiar scent that once turned me on. Right now, it’s making me feel sick. I turn my head away from him and load another forkful of food into my mouth. I have to eat. I need to keep strong for Chloe.

  ‘Do you have to gag me? No one would hear me if I shouted anyway.’ If he has taken in a word I’m saying, he gives no sign of it. ‘I won’t shout, Alex, I promise. But I can’t breathe properly with that sock in my mouth. And I’d like to be able to comfort Chloe when she cries.’

  I’m not getting anywhere. Think, Kaitlyn! Think! He isn’t armed. I look around me discreetly for something – anything – I could use as a weapon. He brings me my food with a plastic fork and no knife. I don’t think hitting him over the head with the tray will stun him enough. I could make a dive for the bookcase, grab a storybook, but I doubt that will be of any more use than the tray. Christ, I’m desperate.

  When I’ve finished eating, Alex nods towards the door. This is my cue to make my way to our en suite bathroom. While Alex stands in the doorway, keeping an eye on me, I strip off and pee and then get into the shower.

  I stay for as long as I think I can get away with under the jet. Can I use the hot water somehow? Alex’s bottles are lined up the way they always are with the tallest on the right and the smallest on the left. I pick up the bottles and rearrange them. Then I turn a couple of them upside down. I feel a strange sense of satisfaction at this small act of defiance, although it’s short-lived. I contemplate hurling the bottles at Alex, but I’ve always been a terrible shot and even if I hit him with one of them, it wouldn’t buy me enough time to get Chloe and myself out of here.

  After a few minutes, Alex pulls back the shower curtain and turns off the taps. I stand there, shivering and dripping, hugging myself as Alex looks me up and down. I’m sure he’s dying to say something, some vicious remark, but he can’t break his self-imposed vow of silence.

  Eventually, he hands me my towel. I dry myself slowly and scan the bathroom frantically. A little bird settles on the windowsill, a wren or a sparrow maybe, looking in at me, emphasising just how helpless I am. It’s probably sheltering from the rain, but I get the feeling it’s taunting me. It can fly away.

  There must be something I can use. Then it comes to me. The toothbrush glasses. I could seize one and throw it against the wall, then use a shard as a weapon. Why didn’t I think of it before? Alex is holding out my toothbrush for me to clean my teeth. I’ll have to act quickly. I walk over to him. Then my heart sinks. Alex has already anticipated this. I hadn’t noticed until now, but the glasses have been replaced by plastic beakers.

  I catch sight of my face in the mirror on the bathroom cabinet above the sink. My eyes are as red as my bloodied lip and my cheekbone looks sore and bruised. I wince and continue to scan the room in the mirror. Could I smash the mirror? What with? Nothing. There’s nothing.

  When I’m dry and I’ve pulled on some pyjamas, he leads me back into the nursery and cuffs me to the bed again. Then, pocketing the key, he pulls the curtains. This signals the end for tonight.

  ‘Talk to me,’ I plead. ‘Say something. Don’t go. Stay here and let’s discuss this.’

  As Alex turns to go, I scream it. ‘TALK TO ME!’

  But still he says nothing. Not a word. He leaves the room, leaving me feeling like a failure. I’ve failed to escape. I’ve failed my daughter. I start crying and I scold myself for breaking down. Keep strong, Kaitlyn!

  It takes me several minutes to realise that this time he hasn’t gagged me. I have my voice. I’m not sure how that will help me get out of here, but it feels like a start.

  I haven’t slept much since I’ve been bound to the bed. But this evening, my body is screaming out for rest. Sleep promises me temporary relief and oblivion. I do like the idea of escaping from all this for a while, although I’m afraid of what I might dream. I’m also afraid of that moment when I wake up, that moment when reality kicks in and reminds me my wor
ld has been spun upside down.

  I think of Chloe. I must sleep. When my chance of escape comes, I’ll need all the strength I can muster. I can breathe more easily now that my airway isn’t obstructed and I do sleep for a few hours.

  I wake up with a jolt. I don’t know what woke me. I have no idea what time it is. The curtains are still drawn and there’s not much light in the bedroom. I’d guess it’s early in the morning. Too early.

  ‘Alex?’

  Something is very wrong, but I’m not sure what it is. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps and they seem to echo in the room. My laboured breathing is the only noise. Everything else is quiet. Too quiet.

  I turn my head to the right towards the cot, my eyes becoming accustomed to the dim light. A sudden spike of terror slices through me. Chloe! But the sound doesn’t leave my lips. My breath has been snatched away. Chloe! This time it comes out, a sound somewhere between a yowl and a scream.

  Despite the semi-darkness of the room, I can see quite clearly through the bars of the cot. My baby has gone.

  Chapter 22

  ~

  I’ve never experienced a panic like the one that takes hold of me now. It spreads through my whole body as if I’ve just plunged into a lake of icy-cold water. My baby! He’s taken my baby!

  I force myself to concentrate on my breathing. I don’t know where Chloe is, but I do know that Alex would never harm her. I block out the voice that reminds me he drugged her. I have to believe he wouldn’t hurt her, even to hurt me. I have to get out of here. I have to find my baby!

  I hear the landline ring. I recall the phone calls to the house when the caller remained silent. On one occasion Alex was there, but he could have rung using his mobile without me noticing. I’d rejected that idea at the time. Now I’m not so sure. Is he messing with my head?

  Hearing the phone reminds me that I was supposed to ring Julie back. She’ll leave me messages on my mobile to ask why I haven’t confirmed dates, but she’s more likely to be annoyed than worried. And I haven’t replied to any of Nikki’s messages. That in itself sends a message. But not the one I want her to get. She’ll think I’m ignoring her and give up on me. I need to send her an SOS. As for Hannah, she and I have barely been in touch since she cut my hair. If she does contact me and I don’t answer, she might be disappointed, but she won’t find it strange. And Dad has other things on his mind. I should call him, not the other way round.

  No one will miss me. Not anytime soon, anyway.

  Crying out in frustration, I pull against my restraints. At first I think it’s my imagination. Or wishful thinking. But then I twist my left hand. No, it’s definitely loose. The cuff on my left hand is loose! Alex hasn’t tightened it as much as usual. Trying in vain to shut out the pain and pulling hard, I attempt to free my hand.

  In the end, with my wrist and hand throbbing, I’m ready to admit defeat. One last try – I pull with all my might. It hurts so much that I howl. But it works! I’ve managed to pull my left hand out of the handcuffs.

  Immediately, I roll over and start to work on my right hand. But this time I really do have to give up. I can’t undo the cuff. I can’t even loosen it.

  Even though the curtains are drawn, it has got a little lighter, and from my position on my right side, I’m facing the cot. I stare at the empty mattress. My eyes fill with tears. Then my gaze is drawn to something underneath the cot. I’m not sure what it is at first. I blink away the tears and look again. It’s the broken mobile.

  With my right hand still handcuffed, I roll off the bed onto the floor. Stretching out as far as I can, I can almost reach the broken bits of wood with my feet. Almost. I stretch further, my wrist pulling against its metal restraint. Using my toes, I manage to roll a stick of wood towards me. Then I grab it with my feet. When I’m holding it in my left hand, I allow myself a few seconds to catch my breath.

  Getting back on the bed is harder than rolling off. When I’m lying back in position, I hide the stick under my bottom. Now all I have to do is wait. I practise my movements. When I hear Alex, I’ll put my left hand back up above my head so that it looks like I’m still cuffed to the bed. I’ll have to wait until he has taken out the key to the handcuffs before I make a move. If he goes for my right hand first, I can wait until he frees it. If he goes for my left hand, I’ll have to go for the stick and hope I can get the key off him and unlock the right cuff myself.

  I’m going to aim for his eye. I’m hoping that I can hurt him enough so that I can get past him and down the stairs. My car keys are on the hook by the front door.

  I try to stay focused and replay my escape plan through my mind. But something is troubling me. I turn my head towards the empty cot. Why did he take Chloe away? For the past few days, he has fed her and changed her in here in the morning. He hasn’t given me any breakfast this morning. He hasn’t even pulled back the curtains. Why the change in routine?

  And then I remember Alex’s words when I wanted to go to Somerset to be with Dad. At the end of next week, I’m away on business for a few days.

  He’s not coming back. He’s going to leave me here. How many days? The reality of my situation soon sinks in. I’m going to die. I’m going to starve to death. Tears flow down my face as images of my daughter stream through my head.

  Then I hear it. Footsteps coming up the stairs. I assumed Alex had left. Has he been in the house all this time? I push the fingers of my left hand through the cuff.

  I’m ready. As ready as I’ll ever be.

  I hear the door to the master bedroom close and then footsteps going back down the stairs.

  ‘No!’ I scream. ‘No! No! Alex! Don’t leave me! Come back!’

  I’m hysterical, banging my head against the pillow repeatedly and pulling at the cuffs. When I see the handle of the door turn downwards, it takes all the mental and physical strength I can muster to refocus on my plan.

  I stare in disbelief as the door opens. It’s not Alex. It’s Nikki.

  Initially, I’m overcome with relief, but then a thought strikes me. What is she doing here? Is she in cahoots with Alex?

  ‘Kaitlyn!’ She looks horrified. ‘Oh dear God!’ She comes over to the bed and sits down next to me. ‘Let’s get you out of here,’ she says. ‘Any idea where the key is?’

  I can’t seem to say anything. I shake my head.

  ‘OK. Well, it looks like a novelty toy,’ she says. ‘It shouldn’t be too difficult.’ She’s trying to be reassuring, but I can hear the panic in her voice. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  She comes back a minute or so later with bolt cutters without having needed to ask where Alex’s toolkit is. In seconds, I’m free. I can’t quite believe it and at first I don’t move from the bed. Then sitting up, I fling my arms around Nikki, all traces of animosity and mistrust towards her gone.

  Nikki studies my face. ‘What has he done to you? He hit you, didn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, but I’m OK. Chloe! He’s taken Chloe!’ I shout, leaping up. ‘I have to fetch her!’

  ‘Any idea where she might be?’

  Yes, but I can’t seem to get the message from my brain to my mouth in order to answer. Nikki is still talking and her voice becomes deafening. It’s as if she’s standing right next to me, shouting at me through a loudspeaker turned up to full volume. And yet I can’t make sense of a single word she’s saying. She’s speaking a foreign language, one I don’t understand. The ground starts to shake and I’m thrown off-balance. Nikki catches me and helps me sit down. Her perfume is heady and it’s making me dizzy. The light in this room is too bright and I can’t see.

  Everything comes rushing at me at once, bombarding my body with a sensory overload. I want to cover my ears with my hands, but I can’t move. The screaming, the sound of Nikki’s voice and the lights all blur into each other and I feel as if I’m stuck on a sickening rollercoaster ride or inside a pinball machine. I want to press pause, stop the world and get off or get out.

  When the floor becomes stable underneath me
and the room stops spinning, Nikki is sitting next to me, holding me. The screaming stops, too, and I realise it was me all along.

  Now when Nikki speaks, it’s softer. ‘Are you all right?’

  I nod. She gets up and disappears along the landing. Then she’s back, holding out a plastic beaker of water from the bathroom. My hands are shaking so badly that I need both of them to take it.

  ‘I’m going to call the police,’ Nikki says.

  ‘No, don’t do that,’ I plead. ‘Not yet. I have to find Chloe first. And then I need to get out of here. I want to be with my family.’

  ‘In that case, can you stand up?’ she asks when I’ve taken a sip of water. I nod and she helps me to my feet. ‘I think we should get out of here,’ she says, ‘before he comes back.’

  ‘He said he’d be gone for a few days,’ I say. My voice is almost inaudible, even to me.

  ‘Let’s not take any chances. Where should we look for Chloe?’

  ‘At my mother-in-law’s.’ My brain is thinking with a lot more lucidity now. ‘It’s the only place I can think of. There’s nowhere else she can be.’ I sound more certain than I feel.

  My suitcases and bags are on the floor of the master bedroom where I left them, with Chloe’s and my clothes still packed inside, ready for us to leave Alex. Nikki and I haul the luggage down the stairs. I take my car keys off the hook in the hall, but Nikki holds out her hand.

  ‘Leave the keys,’ she says. ‘We’ll go in my car. You’re in no state to drive.’

  ‘But I was hoping to drive to my dad’s once I’ve got Chloe.’ If I get Chloe.