When I Know Your Name
Page 1
When I Know Your Name
Gemma M. Lawrence
© Copyright Gemma M. Lawrence 2020
All rights reserved
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Move, Elena. Now!
Listening to that inner voice, the primal thing that is instinct, Elena turned and bolted up the steps to her front door.
Only minutes before life had been normal, safe, her mind planning the best route for a run that would help cleanse her body of the wine she’d polished off with Charlotte last night.
But that was before she caught sight of the man striding towards her as she stretched out her body, using the wrought iron railings that separated the pavement from her home for support. Someone she recognised, but had never met. Someone she’d passed in her road a couple of times or glanced at as he lingered opposite her building, his phone pressed to his ear. Uneventful moments with a stranger and seemingly nothing to do with her. But deep down, she had the unfathomable feeling it was everything to do with her. She’d ignored it though, not wanting to make the same mistake as before. Stupid, given her family’s circumstances.
He was tall, lanky, and with hard eyes and a face taut with purpose, he kept his pace. She hesitated as the first pang of unease fluttered in her stomach. But when a car crept into her peripheral vision, pulling up in the road like a dark threatening cloud, its door opening, ready to swallow her whole, the feeling quickly morphed into a tight knot of dread. Then, instinct kicked in and sparked her body into action.
Muscles tight, she hurled herself up the steps and reached for her keys as his footsteps sounded close behind.
‘Easy now,’ he murmured as he wrapped one arm tightly around her waist and ripped the keys from her grasp with the other, disarming her of her only possible weapon. ‘Best you don’t struggle.’
‘What are you doing?’ she cried as she struggled to be free, fear and confusion crowding her mind. ‘Stop it! Get your hands off me!’
There was no time to process what was happening. No time for anything at all except to deliver a sharp stab of her elbow to his stomach, freeing herself from his grasp. She jumped from the top step and rushed out into the street. She didn’t know where she would go, but to run was her only option.
Now, she sprinted and only two things sounded in the quiet London street: the air she forced into her lungs and footsteps pounding the pavement – a mingle of hers and his.
The surge of adrenaline was doing its job but the footsteps behind were getting louder, getting closer. He was gaining on her. She worked harder, feeling her legs tire, knowing they would soon cramp, having worked hard with little warm-up. Would she be lucky enough to bump into another early morning runner, or someone out walking their dog? Anyone who could help her? She remembered her mother’s words in times of confrontation. ‘Keep well out of it,’ she heard her say. ‘Never get involved. Call the police if you can, but never get involved. If you don’t want to get hurt, that is.’ Sound advice, but now it was her in trouble and that made it a whole lot of different.
But she was out of luck. They were alone, the chill of the spring morning keeping people locked within their homes, shrouded in warmth. But despite the quiet, she didn’t scream. There was no time for that. She had to conserve her energy for the sprint.
Keep moving. Sweat trickled down her back as her body worked to counteract the exertion and fear.
She felt him close now and risked a glance over her shoulder to see him sprinting hard behind. Now she screamed, as his fingers grabbed at her top and pulled her back against the bony contours of his body. He hurriedly patted against her clothing, searching for her phone. In one swift action he grabbed it and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans.
‘Nowhere to run now,’ he said breathlessly, as the mix of chewing gum and stale cigarette smoke hung in the air. It turned her stomach, but so did the fear.
She fought hard to be free of his hold, but in the struggle he still managed to grasp her arm and yank it hard behind her back. Pain ripped through her shoulder and she shrieked as joints cracked and tendons pulled.
‘Now, we’re going to take a little trip, you and me,’ he said, his body pushed against hers as he continued out into the road and towards the car that had found them again. ‘And you’re going to be a good girl and make this easy.’
‘No,’ she cried. ‘Stop. Help me. Help me!’
He wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted her feet from the ground, walking her forwards as he clamped his other hand over her mouth, stifling her cries.
Desperate, she screamed into his hand as she battled against being bundled into the car. If that happened, she was as good as dead. She scratched and kicked, her legs flaying, wild and uncoordinated, until her foot hit the door with a sickening crack. White-hot pain seared through her leg, knocking the air from her lungs as it stalled her fight. Now he had a better opportunity to get a tighter hold and as he squeezed hard, it was clear that as well as hold her, he wanted to hurt her.
Oh God, this is happening. This is actually happening.
‘Drive,’ he ordered as he rammed her into the car and pushed her across the leather seat with a force that made her head hit the window.
‘No, no!’ she screamed as she lunged for the door release, tugging at it frantically. But it was useless, the door locked tight.
The car picked up speed and she clocked two more men. One driving, one passenger.
‘Oh God, oh God, what’s happening?’
‘Listen to me,’ the man beside her ordered as he grabbed her arms and dragged her round to face him as a shrill cry burst from her mouth. ‘You ain’t going anywhere, so do as you’re told and shut the fuck up.’
Unable to stop herself, she sobbed loudly as he forced her wrists together and pulled them down onto the seat between them.
‘Are you going to do it? Are you going to shut up?’ he barked, his face inches from hers. ‘Or will I have to shut you up myself, because you really wouldn’t like that.’
His words hung in the air. She didn’t doubt his threat, so she suppressed the hysteria, swallowed it down, desperate to reduce the sounds that escaped from her mouth, terrified of what would happen if she continued to make too much noise. He chuckled, happy he’d made himself clear, and the sound was thin and ugly as it reverberated through the car.
He loosened his grip enough to pull a cable tie from his pocket. With this he bound her wrists, his fingers thin but strong as he wrapped it tightly. Next, he pulled out a ragged piece of material and covered her eyes, the knot catching in her hair. He shoved her along the seat as instinct screamed. She should do more, fight her captors, but how? There would be no fighting this man and surviving it, of that she was sure. So she sat in darkness as the sound of rustling, the click of a lighter and the acrid aroma of cigarette smoke filled the car. The sound of his drag on the cigarette and the long exhale fill
ed her mind. Swirling smoke mingled with her incoherent thoughts.
The car slowed as smooth road changed to gravel that crunched under wheels. They pulled to a stop and the engine died. Doors clicked open and the car shifted as the men got out, slamming the doors behind them.
She sat in silence, sensing nothing but the thumping of her heart. She waited for the activation of the central locking system, but it didn’t come. With trembling fingers, she wriggled the band of cloth up and squinted. Blinking, she willed her blurry vision to clear and peered through the windscreen. They were in a clearing, surrounded by woodland, with nothing but a dilapidated wooden shack ahead of her, and that’s where the men had grouped together – talking, planning – and taking no care that their captive was alone, sitting in an unlocked car. Unsure if this was a trap, she used the time too, needing a plan of her own.
She watched for a moment longer and when they didn’t bother to look her way, she moved into action. This was her chance. Placing her hand over the door handle, she carefully pulled it back, listening for the click of release. Holding it there for a second, she waited to see if any of the men had noticed. Still nothing, no reaction from any of them as they continued on with their discussion. With great care, she pushed open the door and slipped out, crouching down low, keeping herself small.
One of the men shouted out as she stumbled into a run, the hurried strides of escape, and she heard the sound of boots on gravel as they kicked into action. They noticed her now; they were all watching her now.
‘Jesus, get her!’ the man who had taken her off the street roared, the fury in his voice igniting panic deep within her. But she kept going, her desire to survive so much stronger.
She saw the edge of a long gravel lane between the trees and stumbled through low scrub and brambles to join it. Thorns as sharp as barbed wire caught her legs and ankles, ripping and tearing skin, but she didn’t care, didn’t even feel it, as she hurried on. Whatever the cost, she must get away, and the gravel lane was her quickest route. But her thoughts clouded as the ominous sound of footsteps pounded behind her again, crashing through the undergrowth, snapping branches as they went. She screamed as terror clawed at her throat.
She had made it to the lane when his hand brushed against her back once more. It would be him; she was sure of that. He wouldn’t let her escape. He’d be the one to take on the challenge to get her back, so with every ounce of energy, she tried to quicken her pace. But it was no good, fear had exhausted her body. Another swipe, and this time, his hand grabbed hold of her clothing. Unbalanced and without a sure footing, she began to fall and threw out her hands to lessen the impact as they slid against small stones that grazed her skin. With no time to react, she was hoisted up and, with little care, thrown over the man’s shoulder.
‘No!’ she shrieked, banging her bound hands against his back. ‘Let me go!’
He gripped harder. ‘Shut up, bitch,’ he snarled as he strode back to the others. ‘I’m not letting you out of my sight.’
Her vision of brambles gave way to the wheels of the car she had just fled. But rather than make his way to it, he kept walking. She began to sob, unable to fight anymore, and slumped against him, rocking in time with the motion of his stride.
‘Who the fuck didn’t lock the car?’ he bellowed to the waiting men. ‘Do I have to think of everything?’ He strode into the shack, tipping her onto an old ripped sofa. Rusty metal springs poked through blackened fabric, likely torched at some point in its history. It was the only item within the shack’s rotting walls, and it plumed out thick dust that filled her lungs and burned her throat as she landed hard onto it. She was 5’4” and of slim build, but still it groaned under her weight. Her eyes darted around the shack with only muddy earth for a floor. One of the men stood by the entrance, blocking any further attempt at escape.
Oh God, please don’t let me die in here.
The man talked on the phone and paced, a cigarette clasped between his fingers, anger clipping his words as he relayed her little escapade to an unknown recipient. He terminated the call and with a nod to the man who had been the passenger in the car, he walked behind her and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her down into the seat.
‘Do it.’
The man before her hesitated, seemed unsure.
‘I said, do it!’ the man behind bellowed as he dug his fingers harder into her skin.
So this was it. She laboured for air as she sobbed, watching the man walk towards her, pulling up the flap of the leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder. Horror surged new energy through her as he produced a vial of liquid and a syringe in sterile packaging, making her wrestle to stand.
‘Please… don’t…’ she gasped, as she fixed her stare at the man in desperation, hoping to touch his conscience. But he ignored her as he pulled out a tourniquet strap, tore open the packet, and drained the vial of liquid into the syringe.
She bucked and fought against the hold on her as the man grasped her left arm. He twisted it within its restraints and wrapped the strap tightly above her elbow until the pump of her blood pulsed and made her veins rise to the surface in long blue lines. Removing the cap from the syringe, exposing a small but effective needle, he pierced the largest vein.
A sound erupted from her throat. A guttural scream. ‘No, no, no! Don’t do it! Don’t do it!’ she cried as she stared in horror, watching the man squeeze on the syringe, letting its sinister liquid seep into her body.
The drug took hold with dangerous efficiency, claiming her, and her head fell back. Only the sound of her scream fading into a long, woozy groan rattled through her mind, and as she drifted away, she stared into the man’s eyes, noticing how they had become wide with concern.
Chapter 2
Two days earlier…
‘He’s there again,’ Elena murmured as she stared out of her living room window, the phone pressed against her ear.
‘Who?’
‘Oh, just some guy,’ she said, realising her thinking out loud had become part of the conversation. ‘I’ve seen him around a couple of times, that’s all.’
‘Well, this is London,’ Charlotte said. ‘Fourteen million people means we are not alone in this great metropolis.’
‘Funny.’
So, what does he look like?’ Charlotte continued. ‘I mean, how does one recognise a mad axe maniac?’
Charlotte stifled a laugh and Elena immediately felt stupid, as if she was overreacting. But she was sure she wasn’t, and as hard as she tried, she was unable to shift the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.
‘Sorry, Lena, I’m not laughing at you,’ Charlotte said. ‘But I think you need to relax. He might have recently moved into the area or could just be meeting someone here?’
‘Maybe.’
‘And not to open old wounds, but you don’t want to make the same mistake as before.’
Elena sighed but knew Charlotte’s concern was sincere. They’d been friends long enough for Elena to know that she had her best interests at heart. Since school, it had always been the four of them – Elena, Charlotte, Abigail and Louise. The four musketeers. Unbreakable and prepared to do anything for one another. But now, life had moved on. Abigail was busy travelling the world and Louise had settled down in the country with Tom – ‘the one’. So, it was Elena and Charlotte who were the last two standing, still in London and still firmly ingrained in each other’s lives. And it had been that way since Charlotte had moved into the house next door to Elena’s when they were both nine years old.
‘I know, I’m sure it’s nothing to do with me,’ Elena said, reassuring her friend. ‘And you know who says I am over-thinking it?’
‘Who? Oh, wait. Adam? Really?’ Charlotte said as it dawned on her. ‘He didn’t want to discuss it?’
‘No, not at all. You know what he’s like: “There is always a reasonable explanation for everything, darling. This isn’t the movies. Stop worrying about nothing. Blah, blah, blah”,’ Elena said in a deep, mocking voice.
They both spilled into laughter, but it didn’t relieve her tension.
‘Two years you’ve been together and still he doesn’t get you,’ Charlotte said with a huff. ‘Well, we’ll chat it out, decide what to do. We’re getting together tomorrow night, yes?’
‘Yes.’
‘So let’s talk about it then. Over a bottle of wine.’
‘Definitely,’ Elena said with a half-smile as she moved away from the window. ‘Maybe two.’
‘That’s my girl. Is Adam back from New York later?’
‘Yeah, he should be calling soon, then we’re over to my parents for supper.’
‘Nice,’ Charlotte said, her tone heavy with sarcasm.
‘Hmm, exactly. They want to celebrate.’
‘Oh dear,’ Charlotte said. ‘Is your dad in full-on schmoose mode?’
‘Yep.’
‘Oh no.’
‘I know, but unavoidable, I’m afraid. Adam’s pulled off some major deal, so they want to hear all about it. Completely boring, but I’ll discuss this with them at some point – if I can get a word in. It’s the least they can do. Especially as they’re the reason I’m ‘Mrs Paranoid’.’
‘Hmm, I guess peace of mind is the one thing money can’t buy,’ Charlotte mused.
‘No, but it pays for the security, I suppose.’
‘Ever the optimist, Elena.’
‘Always.’
Elena checked the window again after finishing her call. The man had gone. Is that a good thing? At least when I can see him, I know he isn’t lurking in the shadows. Or worse still, in this building, climbing the stairs.
Her ringing phone punctured the silence, and she jumped, letting out a startled cry.
Checking her phone, and with a soft laugh at the absurdity of her reaction, she accepted the call. ‘Hey, Adam,’ she said as her heart calmed. She sank into her favourite button-backed armchair, a vintage piece, and the first item she’d purchased from a quaint little shop in the East End of London after securing the apartment. Looking out at the dusk skyline, she watched wispy orange clouds glide across the navy sky, the dying embers of the early spring day.