The Forgotten_An absolutely gripping, gritty thriller novel

by Casey Kelleher

  ‘Go on, you go. You’ve been a diamond staying on and helping me out tonight. I really appreciate it, Fliss!’

  Walking back downstairs to see Felicity out, she stopped in the lounge and picked up her handbag.

  ‘Here, have a drink on me,’ she said, rooting around inside, looking for a couple of ten-pound notes. Groaning as she saw the red money bag tucked down inside her handbag.

  ‘Shit! I meant to give Nancy the week’s takings earlier!’

  It was all still there, bagged up. A week’s worth of money from Bridge Street. A stupid amount, in fact, to have lying around in her handbag. Near on ten grand in total. But with everything she had going on today, she’d simply forgotten to do the handover.

  ‘Don’t worry, babe. Sort it out tomorrow.’ Taking the notes from Bridget, and smiling gratefully, Felicity shrugged. ‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you to come along? I bet you could do with a couple of glasses of wine. You might get a second wind?’

  Staring at the stacks of boxes piled up around them that she hadn’t even opened yet, Bridget was more than tempted to down tools and go out and have a bit of fun for a change. Only she couldn’t. She promised Nancy that she’d get this place sorted and she wanted to prove to the woman that she was good for it.

  She shook her head.

  ‘A couple of glasses of wine at this time of night and all I’ll be fit for is my bed. Nah, you’re good, Felicity. I need to get this lot sorted. You go. Go on, I insist.’

  Leading the woman out towards the front door, they both stopped suddenly as they heard an almighty bang coming from the back of the property.

  ‘What the fuck was that?’ Bridget said, her voice almost a whisper, thinking that something had fallen and smashed against the marble tiles that adorned all the floors on the ground floor of the house.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ They looked at each other, neither of them daring to speak as they stood in silence, listening. A second almighty crash came a few seconds later, letting them both know that the noise was nothing accidental.

  ‘Someone is trying to break in? Shit!’ Felicity whispered, her face white with fear as the third loud crash came, sounding like force was behind it.

  ‘It sounds like someone’s bashing the back door down!’

  Bridget nodded in agreement. That was exactly what it sounded like. Somebody was trying to force their way in here.

  ‘Shit. Come on, we need to move,’ Bridget said, thinking fast on her feet as she made a grab for the bag of money and the cordless phone.

  ‘Get your arse in the kitchen now, Felicity,’ Bridget ordered, ushering Felicity into the kitchen, before switching the lights off. Plunging them both into darkness. The two women squatted down behind the kitchen table.

  Bridget dialled Nancy’s number, her hands shaking as she held the phone to her ear, anxiously waiting for the woman to pick up.

  Another bang.

  This time the sound echoed down the long main corridor that ran through the centre of the house. She could hear footsteps then. Inside the house.

  ‘They’re in…’ she whispered to Felicity, placing a finger on her lips to let the girl know they needed to stay quiet. Then, pointing at the floor, she instructed Felicity to stay down out of sight.

  Aware that it was stupid o’clock in the morning, she willed Nancy to pick up the phone.

  Finally, the woman did.

  ‘Nancy, it’s me. Bridget! We’ve got trouble at the house. Someone’s broken in,’ she said bravely, staring out through the gap in the doorway.

  She eyed the shadowy figure just off in the distance, at the opposite end of the hallway, their silhouette moving about the front room, as they began searching through boxes.

  Whoever it was, they were looking for something in the front reception room. Going through the desk and the cupboards by the sounds of it. Dragging everything out, ransacking the place.

  Bridget could hear the sound of the furniture being kicked and shoved across the room.

  Another loud crash. Glass?

  ‘Shit, Nance,’ Bridget said now, her voice barely a whisper as she watched the dark stocky figure walking down the corridor towards her. ‘I can see someone. A man I think. He’s got something in his hand? A weapon?’

  Bridget felt physically sick then. Whoever this was, they clearly meant business. She and Felicity were in real danger.

  ‘What the fuck do I do?’

  ‘Where are you?’ Nancy said, picking up on the fear in Bridget’s voice. She tried to remain in control.

  ‘We’re in the kitchen. What shall I do?’

  ‘Stay where you are, okay. Don’t move, and don’t make a sound. Try and stay out of sight. I’m on my way over. I’ll bring backup.’

  The phone went dead, leaving Bridget’s ears filled with the dull, final sound of the tone, quickly replaced with the loud hammering of her heart. The blood rushing inside her ears. Then the heavy footfall of the intruder, getting louder as whoever it was came closer now.

  ‘Shall we make a run for it, Bridget?’ Felicity whispered.

  Bridget shook her head.

  There was no time for that. The man was heading this way.

  Staring over at Felicity she once more placed her finger over her lips, telling the girl not to make a sound. Whoever this man was, he was armed and clearly dangerous. It wasn’t worth taking the risk and running.

  Sensing the fear on the younger girl’s face, Bridget reached out and squeezed her arm. The poor girl looked as terrified as Bridget felt.

  Shit! she thought then, remembering the takings that she’d shoved inside her handbag. She’d left them up on the table.

  That’s probably what this bastard was looking for, she realised.

  He’d tear this place apart looking for them, and probably find her and Felicity in the process.

  Where the fuck was Nancy?

  Closing her eyes in despair, Bridget felt sick with fear. By the time the woman got here, it would be too late.

  She needed a Plan B.

  Searching the kitchen sides for something she could use to protect herself, she spotted the bread knife by the sink that she’d been using earlier to slice through the masking tape of the endless boxes. Grabbing it, her hand skimmed the cordless phone and she stared in horror as it spun across the kitchen worktop and fell to the floor. Smashing against the new marble tiles.

  The house was plunged into silence then.

  Bridget was frozen to the spot. She stared at Felicity.

  The intruder suddenly went silent too. He’d heard her.

  Waiting, she couldn’t hear his footsteps and braced herself for the onslaught that she knew for sure would now follow. Then the footsteps started again; this time, with a purpose. Stomping towards the kitchen. Towards them.

  Bridget held the knife out in front of her, standing in front of Felicity. Shielding the younger woman, just as the kitchen door burst open.

  A man. Dressed in black, a balaclava pulled down over his face to conceal his identity.

  All Bridget could see were his cold, callous eyes staring straight at her.

  She held the knife up higher, directly out in front of her. Fighting the violent tremor of her shaking hands.

  Determined to show the man that she would use it if she had to.

  ‘What the fuck do you want?’ she shouted, trying so desperately to keep her shit together as she locked eyes with the masked assailant.

  His hand raised then too, a metal crowbar held tightly in his locked fist.

  Raising it high above his head, he stepped towards the two women.

  Nine

  ‘Come on, Jack!’ Nancy Byrne cursed impatiently.

  Her car had been abandoned in the middle of the private road.

  She stood at the end of the long winding driveway, scanning the deserted street in hope of a glimpse of the man’s arrival. Praying silently to herself that he would hurry the hell up.

  That Bridget and Felicity would be okay.

  That
was the problem with being set so far back in the grounds of such a large plot of land: there was no other fucker around to hear if there was trouble going on. Without the alarm system working, none of the neighbours around here would have the slightest clue about the commotion that was going on inside the house. The irony being that had been exactly the appeal of the house that had made Nancy want to buy it in the first place. Privacy. And this place gave her that in abundance.

  She’d had a gutful of people sticking their noses into her business over on Bridge Street. Despite the fact that most people around there knew her and her family well enough to know better than to start asking questions, it didn’t stop people talking behind her back. Casting their own opinions on the Byrnes’ businesses. Spreading rumours that always found their way back to her.

  Especially after everything that had happened with her father.

  With Daniel too.

  This was supposed to be a fresh start. A new beginning for her and her family. Something she could build entirely on her own, and actually be proud of.

  No one would be watching her, or judging her, or interfering around here. Because there was no other fucker about.

  Recalling the panic in Bridget’s voice when she’d phoned her, Nancy knew that she didn’t have time to stand around on her own out here like a spare part, waiting for Jack and some of the other men she had on her payroll to magically appear.

  She had to help her friend.

  Nancy made her way down the long winding driveway, careful to stay in close to the hedgerow to avoid being seen. She contemplated going in through the front door, which she would have done, had she not been alone.

  At least she was armed, she thought to herself as she snuck around the back of the house to where Bridget had told her the intruder had got into the house. Reaching into her handbag as she went, her fingers frantically searched the bottom of the bag.

  The gun? Shit!

  In her hurry to get here, she’d forgotten to retrieve it from the safe.

  If it wasn’t for Scarlett, Nancy would have kept it in her handbag, close to hand at all times. Only, she couldn’t do that with a child in the house.

  She stalled when she reached the back door, which had been left ajar and, judging from the state of what was left of it, had been kicked in with brute force. She studied the splintered, jagged bits of wood that jutted out from the split doorframe. The metal lock had been forced out. Discarded, now, on the floor.

  Inside, she could hear shouting.

  A male voice. Aggressive and bellowing orders.

  Nancy took a deep breath; with no way of protecting herself against this lot, her only hope was that her presence alone would be enough to deter whoever these fuckers were. To catch them unawares and make out that she’d turned up mob-handed. That her men were with her too.

  ‘Fuck it!’ Nancy said, eyeing the back gate once more in the vain hope that Jack might suddenly appear from the shadows.

  She would have to do this alone.

  She made her way inside as quickly as she could amongst the darkness, and eyed the state of the place.

  The back of the house had been completely ransacked. The desk and a handful of chairs that dressed the room had all been tipped over and kicked across the floor. There was paperwork everywhere too, strewn all over the carpet.

  Following the sounds of the shouting and crying, Nancy made her way down the hallway, towards the front of the house, to the kitchen.

  The noise was getting louder now.

  Female voices. They sounded distressed.

  She was in way over her head. She knew that; but what choice did she have?

  All she could do was pray to God that Jack got his arse here soon.

  Nancy stopped in her tracks at the sudden noise that filled the entire house, recognising the sound of the blood-curdling scream.

  Like a wounded animal.

  That voice?

  It was Bridget.

  Raising the crowbar above his head, the man placed his finger over his lips as a warning to the girls not to make a sound.

  His eyes going to the bag on the table.

  ‘Give me the money, and no one gets hurt,’ he said then, his tone shaky and desperate, despite the threat that lingered there.

  Bridget shook her head.

  She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t just hand over the takings.

  It was near on ten grand.

  The girls had worked their arses off, literally, for this money.

  Sensing the woman’s hesitation, the man gave her one final chance.

  ‘Give me the bag,’ he repeated.

  His tone was harder, his eyes flashing with fury through the slit in his balaclava.

  But Bridget wasn’t about to give him the money. ‘No!’ she said, snatching the bag up from the table before the man could get to it.

  There was no way that she was going to hand over a week’s worth of takings. Nancy would be here soon. With backup. All Bridget had to do was stall this fucker until then.

  She held out the knife then too. Showing the man that she meant business. Her arm dead straight, aimed straight at him. Determined to stand her ground.

  No one moved.

  Bridget and Felicity were both cornered at the back of the kitchen. The large kitchen table stood between them and the door. The masked intruder was there too, blocking the only way out. There was no way to escape.

  She couldn’t back down, not now.

  Stepping slowly towards the man, defiantly. Only instead of taking his cue and backing off, the man came closer too.

  He wasn’t frightened of her. Blade, or no blade.

  He should be, Bridget thought, as she took her chance and struck out, slicing through the air as she lunged forward.

  The man was quick to dance out of her way. Ducking to his side, defensive now, he smashed the crowbar down on Bridget’s tiny frame.

  Bridget screamed out in pain as the metal bar impacted her arm. Hearing the crack of bone just as the pain ripped right through her.

  Felicity screamed too.

  Bridget had no choice but to fight for her life now.

  It was this man or her, and there was no way that Bridget was going to let it be her.

  She pounced once more. Thrusting the knife towards the man with everything she had.

  She missed.

  Then to her surprise, he made a grab for the weapon. Twisting his hands around the handle, and squeezing her fingers with all his strength so that she’d drop the knife.

  Wincing at the acute pain which forced her to cry out once more, still Bridget wasn’t willing to let go.

  ‘Felicity!’ Bridget screamed. ‘Help me…’ she shouted, catching a glimpse of the girl in the midst of her struggle, as she continued to single-handedly fight off the masked intruder for possession of the knife.

  Only Felicity didn’t move. She couldn’t.

  Rendered silent and frozen to the spot, she looked as if she’d gone into shock. Staring at Bridget wrestling with the intruder, her tiny form being overpowered by his, Felicity’s eyes were full of terror.

  But Bridget couldn’t hold him off on her own. She was no match for the man. He was too strong.

  ‘Let it go,’ the man ordered Bridget through gritted teeth.

  He had the knife then, firmly in his grasp again. His hand gripping tightly around the handle. Only Bridget was still holding it too. Twisting her body towards the man to gain more leverage, as she tried to retrieve it from him. But her hand slipped free and for a second only he held it.

  She faltered as if she’d been struck.

  He’d punched her?

  The sudden pain in her side stopped her in her tracks.

  It felt like a punch at first. Except harder. Sharp and searing, causing her hand immediately to go to the place of acute pain.

  To hold and protect it.

  That’s when she felt the blade penetrating her side. Protruding from her skin. A warm liquid seeping out through her fingertip
s.

  She held her hand up and stared at the dark red fluid that covered her skin.

  Blood?

  She felt weak then. Faint. The room spinning silently as she rapidly crumpled to the floor.

  Somewhere in the distance now, she could hear Felicity’s voice too. The girl finally speaking up.

  Too late to help now, but screaming hysterically at the scene that had unfolded before her.

  ‘You’ve stabbed her? What have you done? What the fuck have you done?’

  Hearing the harrowing scream echoing down the hallway towards her, Nancy ran.

  Ignoring all the instincts that told her to wait for Jack to get here, so she’d at least have some backup. Nancy didn’t have time for that.

  Bridget and Felicity were both in trouble. They needed her.

  She shouted, hoping to call the intruder’s bluff.

  ‘Bridget? Are you in here? I’ve got Jack Taylor here with me and some of my men.’ Shouting now, as she neared the kitchen doorway.

  It was all bravado, but bravado was all that Nancy had right now.

  Reaching the kitchen doorway, she was met by the sight of the masked assailant standing in the middle of the kitchen, as if he was frozen to the spot, and Felicity standing at the back of the kitchen against the sink. Hugging her arms tightly to herself as she continued to bawl, her eyes transfixed on the floor in front of her. As if she was in a trance.

  Nancy followed her gaze, a small gasp escaping her lips as she saw her friend splayed out on the floor, clutching her side, hands covered in blood.

  ‘Bridget?’ Nancy said, stepping around the intruder, immediately going to her friend.

  Dropping to her knees, she realised that Bridget was unconscious. The knife was still inside her, her hand pressing at the wound as she lay sprawled out on the kitchen floor.

  Nancy glared at the man in the mask.

  ‘What the fuck have you done to her?’ she said then.

  Show no fear to your enemies, only contempt. Isn’t that what her father always said? Only Nancy’s contempt was real, suddenly enraged at what this animal before her had done to her friend.