by Louise Voss
I concentrate on what they are saying. The first man, the one who isn’t Daniel, says, ‘I don’t want to have this argument again. There’s no proof, no evidence linking me to Amber. But I’ve got proof that you abducted Becky. I’ve got it right here. So, what, have you been doing this for years? Got a taste for it after Amber, did you?’
Daniel replies: ‘Something like that. Looks like her, doesn’t she? Like Amber. That’s what attracted me to her when I saw her at that party. And, yes, of course I recognized you, you idiot. Becky is perfect; physically, temperamentally. She’s so much like her.’
‘Amber?’
‘Like my mother. So what do you want?’
The man who isn’t Daniel answers Daniel’s question: ‘Her,’ he says. ‘I want her.’
‘You want to save her? And let her go to the police the second she—’
‘No. That’s not the plan. I said, “I want her.”’
Daniel laughs. ‘For yourself?’
A moment of silence in which all I can hear is my heart thumping. Nausea clutches at my throat and I swallow it down.
‘I don’t know,’ Daniel says. ‘She’s perfect. She could be The One. The woman I’ve been searching for all these years. Do you know how many women I’ve had to eliminate in my quest to find the perfect one?’
‘I don’t want to know. I just want Becky. You might think she’s the one. But I do too. I love her.’
I try to raise my head again, this time managing to push myself up, my head howling in protest, so I can see them through the open door. Yes, Daniel, and the other man, with his back to me, standing a few feet apart, squaring up to one another.
‘She’s got a sister,’ says the man I can’t see, walking closer to Lewis. His voice is so familiar. ‘Her name’s Amy. She’s just as hot as Becky. A year or so older, but you wouldn’t guess it. She’s innocent, whereas Becky’s been around the block a few times; she’s tainted. You always told me you like girls who haven’t been with too many men.’ He takes out his phone and taps the screen a few times, before showing it to Daniel.
My phone. Where is it? I look for my bag, where I always keep it. I can’t see it anywhere.
Daniel says, ‘Hmmm. She looks … nice.’
‘I can help you get to her. If you give me Becky.’
‘Been around the block, eh, has Becky?’ Daniel says. ‘All right. It’s a deal. I’ll send a letter like last time, or rather, an email, so no one looks for her. I’ve got Becky’s phone – I took it off her when I knocked her out – so I’ll have access to her email.’
He’ll have access to everything on my phone, I think. My Facebook, my contacts. My whole life.
And then they shake hands, like it’s a business deal. My brain may feel as if it’s been wrapped in acid-soaked cotton wool but I still understand what has just happened. They have just agreed to trade me and Amy, as if we are football stickers.
Well, that’s not going to happen. Not if I have anything to do with it.
Bracing myself against the certain rush of pain in my head, I sit up, half fall out of the car, and try to run. I have no idea which direction to run in. I am stumbling towards a big house. Daniel shouts, ‘Hey!’ and then footsteps are pounding after me. I look over my shoulder and see them both, running towards me, their faces twisted, like two strangers – not the two nice guys I knew before. Because now I know who the other man is, and the shock of it makes me scream.
They catch me and push me to the ground. Gravel scrapes my knees and palms.
Daniel drags me back to the car and tells his friend to hold me while he gets something. I thrash and try to spit at them, at the man who I thought I knew but who, now, has a strange expression on his face, like a father looking at his newborn child. The last thing I see before Daniel puts the chemical-smelling pad on my face again is my next-door neighbour, gazing down at me with the expression I’ve sought all my life.
‘I love you,’ Gary says, and I black out.
‘You know what, Becks?’ Gary says when he comes back into the room where he’s been keeping me, the room in which he’s kept me prisoner; raped me, terrified me. ‘I used to watch you through the spyhole in my door. Your hips looked so slinky and sexy when you walked. It’s so unfair. I loved you so much, I thought you liked me – and you end up going out with a creep like Lewis? If you knew him like I know him, you wouldn’t want to go out with him. You’ve had a lucky escape.’
A lucky escape. That’s what he calls it. To be passed from one madman to another. From my memories of waking up in the car and from what Gary has told me since he brought me here, I’ve been able to piece together the awful truth about what’s happened to me.
Daniel, the man I thought I was in love with, was really a psychopath called Lewis. He and Gary knew each other from a long time ago. They murdered a girl called Amber, although Gary protests his innocence and says it was Lewis who wielded the knife.
According to Gary, Lewis was at the Orchid Blue sex party and spotted me there. I look just like Amber, he says, and both of us look like Lewis’s dead mother. Lewis developed an obsession with me which led to him setting up a CupidsWeb profile and contacting me to arrange a date. He knew I was on CupidsWeb from chatting with Kath at the party.
But Lewis wasn’t the only one obsessed with me. Gary was watching me; my every move, and when I set out to go on the date with the man I knew as Daniel, Gary followed us. He watched as Lewis began to drag my unconscious body out of his car, then stepped forward – which was when they did their deal. Me for Amy. After that, Gary brought me here – first putting me in a garage then bringing me into this musty, mothball-stinking flat.
Thinking of Amy, I shake my head violently and Gary must be curious because he removes the gag.
‘Where is she? You have to tell me. If that bastard hurts her …’ I pull against the handcuffs but my muscles are weak and I slump back onto the bed. I try to lash out at him with my foot because my arms are still tied to the bedhead, and he feints neatly away to avoid me.
‘Calm down, Becky, or I’ll have to hurt you,’ he says, and the coldness in his voice makes me shudder.
A tear slides down the side of my cheek and I can’t wipe it away. Oh, God, Amy. I’m so scared – even more terrified for her than I am for myself. The thought of anything happening to her …
I shudder, and Gary sighs and stares towards the curtained window. The curtains are horrible, mauve and green stripes and fat flowers. I can taste my own bad breath in my mouth and it makes me feel sick. I haven’t cleaned my teeth since I’ve been here.
He looks pensive.
‘All I wanted – and it’s a simple thing; not too much to ask, surely? – was for you to love me the way I loved you. That night when we made love, you kissed me so passionately, remember?’
Gary strokes my bare leg and I try not to recoil.
‘I watched you afterwards when you fell asleep. Allowed myself to dream of a future with you. A time when we would be together, for ever, and you’d adore me, worship me, and everyone would be so sick with jealousy because the most beautiful, sexy, clever, funny, sweet, feisty, adorable, fragrant woman in the whole world belongs to me.
‘Do you remember the first time we met, when I moved in? I was carrying that box of DVDs up the stairs and you came running down – you almost sent me flying! I was about to yell at you, then I saw your eyes … oh, my God, I was smitten. You smiled at me. I got an instant hard-on!’
I try not to glance at his crotch in case the memory produces a similar response.
‘I used to watch out for you, learn when you came and went so I could accidentally on purpose bump into you … you were always friendly, but I could tell you weren’t interested. It did my head in, that you were seeing other men, you and your mate, Katherine.’
He pauses, staring at me with a twisted expression, almost curious.
‘She’s dead, you know. Katherine. Drugs overdose, apparently, a couple of days ago. But it was Lewis, I bet it was
. Getting her out of the way so he could have you.’
A strangled sob slips out of my throat. Katherine, dead? I can’t believe it – and yet I can. At that moment, I wish I could swap places with her. I’d rather be dead, sailing away into oblivion on a cloud of cocaine, or whatever. Anything would be better than stuck here in this stinking room with Crazy Gary, whose only defence seems to be that he’s less insane than Daniel, or Lewis, or whatever his name actually is.
I can’t think about Katherine right now. I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear it. It’s too much to take in.
‘I dreamed about you all the time,’ he says.
‘We could be together now, Gary,’ I plead. ‘I didn’t know you felt so strongly about me. It won’t come out, about Lewis. We could run away together, just you and me …’
He ignores me.
‘I couldn’t stand it when you brought a man back to your gaff. I wanted to break down your fucking door and punch his lights out. I could hear you, you know, through the wall. It killed me. That was when I decided I had to try harder to get you to like me. Do you remember that time I came over? I made up some story about some kids trying to break in, and you were scared so you invited me in. We talked for an hour – it was fantastic! I was so happy. You were telling me all about your job, the kids at school …’
Gary gets this faraway look on his face. ‘I wanted to ask you out, but it was too soon. I didn’t want to scare you off. At least we were mates by then, though. But then you started Internet dating.’
He almost spits out the words. ‘More men! What was wrong with you, Becky? You changed. You were so sweet and innocent – wholesome. Not any more … you turned slutty … It was sexy as hell, though – I wanted you so much …’
I think back to the horribleness of it all and I agree with him. What the hell was wrong with me? How could I have thought it was a good idea, to go on hook-up sites and to sex parties …? The threesome with Katherine – I can’t believe she’s dead. Her throaty giggle, and smooth skin … but I’m not gay. I didn’t like it, and I would never do it again. That Paul guy was foul, I felt defiled afterwards. So why did I go to that nasty, tawdry sex party too? It occurs to me how persuasive Kath really was. I would never have done any of that stuff on my own.
‘I thought I had no chance. But then I did! Do you remember that night when we made love, Becky? It was the best night of my whole life. You were incredible; so beautiful. You tasted like dark bitter chocolate and your skin was burning with a million tiny fires that I tried to put out with my tongue …’
‘I remember,’ I tell him, trying to sound eager. It was a stupid mistake, a moment of weakness on my part. He’d come round late one night asking for his Breaking Bad box set, and I was feeling excited and distracted, emailing Paul. After Gary went back to his place, I noticed he’d left the box set behind and, although I originally decided not to, I changed my mind and took it across to his flat. He’d been delighted to see me, and we had a drink together and ended up in bed. It was all right, as I recall. He didn’t last very long and … I don’t want to think about it. Not now. Not ever again.
But if he still loves me then perhaps I have a chance …
He looks at me now with accusing eyes. ‘You didn’t want me, though, not even after that incredible night. You told me you were going out on a date with Katherine. That was when I bought you that new iMac. You were so naïve, thinking you’d really won it in some competition you never even entered! Honestly, Becky. How could you be so daft? All I had to do was install a bit of software that connected your iMac to my computer – any idiot who’s ever worked in IT could do it – and, guess what? I could read all your emails, watch your screen in real-time. I just packaged it all back up and left it outside your door with a letter telling you that you won it in a competition that all CupidsWeb users were automatically entered in.
‘Every night, I watched you surf the net, instant-message Katherine and your sister Amy – until you had that big row with her – I knew because you told Katherine about it. I saw you update your social networks, browse Casexual.com. I watched you apply for Orchid Blue and arrange to go to a sex party with Katherine. I almost vomited at the thought of you taking part in an orgy. I decided I had to go too. I applied and got accepted, even though it cost a fortune.
‘It was a masked party, so I thought I’d be safe. I had my hair cut. Even got a sodding fake tan to match the fake name I gave when I booked. I didn’t want you to recognize me. I was so nervous. I really thought I might be able to get to have sex with you again. But then it all went wrong. As soon as I walked in, I saw Lewis. Even with the mask on, I knew it was him. I hadn’t seen him for fifteen years, not since … that night. I was so shocked. I didn’t know what to do. I hoped he wouldn’t recognize me – although you did, didn’t you? I bet you were shocked to see me there.’
I nod. ‘Shocked’ had been an understatement. That’s why I had legged it as soon as I saw him. It just seemed so wrong, on so many levels, that the next-door neighbour with a crush on me had shown up at this expensive sex party.
I don’t tell Gary that, though.
‘Katherine was chatting me up, remember? Then you came over, saw me, and stormed out.’
Gary’s face falls at the memory. ‘I knew then I had no chance with you. And it got worse – frigging Lewis saw you rip off your mask on the way out, and decided that you were his next conquest. He comes over to us, asking all about you and I thought, oh, shit, I remember what happened last time he had that expression on his face … he was obsessed. So obsessed that he didn’t clock it was me at all, with my mask on, fifteen years since he’d last seen me, which was something at least … He was banging on about you being like Cinderella, not even leaving a glass slipper … twat. I was so scared for you. I left the party after you did, thinking that whatever happened I had to make sure he didn’t find out who you were.’
Over the next couple of weeks, Gary says, he continued to spy on me on the iMac he’d given me. I’d emailed Kath saying I didn’t want to go to any more Orchid Blue parties or use Casexual any more. I told her about the epiphany I’d had at that party, how disgusted I felt with myself and that I didn’t want to do it any more.
Gary was delighted, he says, and thrilled that he hadn’t been the only reason for me leaving so hastily. But then, he says, something terrible happened: I got a message through CupidsWeb from a guy called Daniel. Daniel said he loved my profile, told me all this stuff about how he was tired of empty sex and wanted to find a soul mate, and we arranged to meet.
And Gary was reading all this on his own computer! I feel sick at the thought of Gary having read all my lovey-dovey emails with Daniel.
Then I feel even sicker, thinking what Daniel had in store for me all along – if Gary can be believed.
‘I watched you check out his profile, Becks, and when I saw his photos and realised Daniel was really Lewis, I freaked. I couldn’t work out how he’d found you at first. I panicked. I couldn’t tell you about him, obviously.’
‘How did he find me?’ I ask.
Gary grits his teeth. ‘Your stupid friend, I assume. Katherine must have told him at the party about you both using CupidsWeb.’
I nod slowly. I suppose that must have been it. I wish, from the bottom of my heart, that I’d never met Kath. Or Gary. Or Daniel/Lewis.
Gary starts crying. His shoulders heave and quiver and his nose turns red and starts running. ‘I had to watch you, Becky, falling in love with fucking Lewis! You were messaging Kath, saying how wonderful he was, how different to all the others, how you were falling in love with him! I couldn’t bear it!’
Gary’s voice rises to a wail and I look at him, astonished and fearful. Does he really expect me to feel sorry for him? ‘Anyway, I don’t want to talk about it any more.’
He puts a new strip of tape over my mouth, picks up my empty plate and leaves without asking me if I need to use the bathroom.
49
Amy
; Monday, 29 July
‘There’s someone here to see you.’
DS Bob Clewley spoke into the phone, glancing over at Amy, who sat fidgeting on the uncomfortable slippery faux-leather reception seats. Amy hadn’t been to Eastbourne since she was a child, though she had a vague memory of her and Becky playing in the amusement arcades on the pier. Becky had put all her money into the grabber machine, squealing with delight when she finally managed to get hold of a Snoopy toy. Becky still had that Snoopy in her bedroom.
Declan Adams came out to reception and gestured with his head for Amy to follow him, leading her to an interview room and instructing Bob to fetch Amy a cup of tea.
‘How are you doing?’ Declan asked.
Amy knew she looked rough. She hadn’t slept at all in the three days since Lewis Vine had abducted her. She had spent much of that time staring at the TV, wrapped in a blanket with Boris beside her. Sky News had rolling coverage of the goings-on at the ‘house of horror’ in Claygate, as body after body was dug up, an endless gallery of faces of missing women appearing on the screen, their families finally achieving some kind of closure – including the family of Amber Corrigan, whose purse had been found among Lewis’s possessions.
There was no closure for Amy. The phone and a bag had been the only trace of Becky, proof that she had encountered Lewis, along with hair containing her DNA in his car. On the phone, a message from Katherine, sent just after Amy had been to see her, asking Becky what she was up to. Then she had sent another text asking her why she hadn’t replied.
Have you gone away with Daniel? Katherine asked. I’m going to have to tell Amy if she keeps pestering me.
‘Lewis must have seen that text and realized Katherine could expose the email about Becky going away as a lie,’ Declan said. ‘So he had to deal with her – stop her talking to you. Looks like Fraser didn’t give her the fatal drugs after all.’
But so far not a single atom of Becky had been found inside the house, let alone a body. Police were scanning CCTV from the areas around Lewis’s house and office, trying to trace his movements over the weekend when Becky went missing, but he didn’t appear to have done anything except go to work, go home and, Amy discovered to her horror, spend one afternoon lurking outside her own flat.
