Scare Me

by Richard Parker

  “I’m to be your only point of contact. Who else but you knows about this?”

  “Just me.”

  Weaver climbed back into the driver’s seat and dumped several packs of beef jerky onto the dash. He tore into a fresh stash of nicotine gum.

  “Keep it that way and you can have anything you want, exclusive interviews, whatever. If your coverage puts my daughter’s life at further risk, Ingram will bury you alive.”

  He ignored the threat. “Thank you, Mrs Frost, I’ll need a direct line to you, of course.”

  She gave him a number, reluctantly releasing each digit as if it were an intimate secret. Then she jotted down the number he gave her. “I strongly advise you to think about a figure in the meantime. Your credibility here’s not going to last very long.”

  “Please believe me, my prayers are with your daughter.”

  She rang off.

  “She on board?” Weaver clicked his seatbelt into place.

  “Of course she is,” Pope said dispassionately. Their exchange had brought everything he’d wanted, but he didn’t feel satisfied by the outcome. She was a mother terrified for her daughter’s safety. Why wouldn’t she be?

  Weaver gunned the engine and pulled out of the gas station.

  Why not just call back and give her the figure? It would be exactly what she wanted to hear. His silence to her was probably worth much more than any network would offer for the story. Plus, if someone else found the website he’d have nothing.

  He considered what he could do with the sort of money she’d pay. The time he had to make good on it was severely limited. But that would mean he’d be one step away from being a kidnapper himself.

  Carla stood stock-still in the office, her hand still planted on the replaced receiver. How was it possible to wish for the situation she’d had a couple of minutes ago instead of the one she had now? Libby and her baby’s life were now in the hands of the media as well as the kidnappers.

  If a TV news reporter on the other side of the Atlantic knew exactly what was going on, how many others did? Her one hope was that his venality would make him call straight back. If she agreed to pay him he’d have to do everything in his power to keep Libby’s kidnapping a secret. As the situation was it was inevitable his presence would attract even more unwanted attention and she couldn’t allow that to happen.

  She wasn’t about to tell Will. Not with everything he had to endure already. She would handle Pope. This was something she could take care of. Carla suddenly needed to open a window, but all of the panes in the office were sealed. She turned the air con right up and even though the draught tasted stale the cold blast partially revived her.

  While she waited for Will to call she opened up a search and did a quick background check on Teddy Pope.

  It was like his blackened finger. Although he knew it would be painful Tam couldn’t resist squeezing the nail.

  His grandmother had retired early and was sleeping in his room. Tomorrow was a working day so his parents weren’t far behind. His bed was the pull out couch that evening. He fed his hamster and waited until he was sure he could identify three different snores. Then Tam climbed onto the fire escape through the window in front of the dining table. It was still dusk when he dropped down onto the street, but he knew he’d have to retrace most of his familiar route in the dark.

  He couldn’t stop thinking of the girl and Skinny Man who’d observed her from his chair. Did she need to be guarded? Was she really that dangerous? Listening to his father, Tam guessed there was much she needed to be punished for. But when he’d knelt in front of the cage and watched her breathing he hadn’t felt scared at all. How much longer would she be there? Maybe if he delayed his next visit she’d be gone.

  He’d taken handfuls of what remained of dinner from the refrigerator – the stuffed leaves, cold noodles and salad – and put them in his lunchboxes. The stack of metal canisters secured by a clip and swinging from the handle in his sweaty palm scraped the wall as he thudded through the passage.

  He expected it to be easier this time. As he told himself that this would be the last time he’d visit the girl in the cage a sensation sitting heavily on the food in his gut seemed to know it for sure.

  He got waves of the same bloated feeling when he saw the mushroom exterior of the factory again and then when he dangled his legs over the corrugated gates. Was he pushing his luck?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Chicago,

  Illinois,

  DON’T TRY TO PHONE THE OCCUPANT

  Sitting in the departure lounge, Poppy used her iPhone to type the information into the configuration page for the website. She looked at the Roman numerals on the gold face of her Emile Chouriet watch. Because of the delay in the house in Pepperwood Springs and getting snarled up in traffic, she only had forty minutes to spare before her flight from Baltimore International. She inhaled a few times, shut out the outcome of what she’d just left behind and focussed on the next part of the schedule. He would probably make the flight behind hers, if he hurried. It didn’t matter if he missed it though, as long as he made it to his destination by early evening.

  Her next appointment was the one everything in her itinerary hinged on and she couldn’t afford to miss the one opportunity she had. The others had been in locations that had been easy to choreograph, but at this one timing was crucial.

  She’d left her sushi knife behind the cubicle in the ladies. Even though security was lax on domestic flights, she didn’t want to risk being delayed. She’d buy another blade when she got to Chicago.

  She looked up to see if the gate had opened and snagged the eye of a middle-aged businessman with tight grey curls. He was pretending to read an ebook through a pair of half-spectacles. His eyes lingered on her for longer than necessary.

  Dressed in the navy blue suit and black suede ankle boots she’d changed into on the parking deck she wondered what the man’s perception of her was. He probably wouldn’t have conceived of how the blood had gotten on the clothes she’d ditched in the trunk of the car. She smiled at him.

  He looked down and pretended to arrange his blue silk tie in his lap and then immediately looked up at her again. In that moment she’d risen and walked past him.

  Poppy refreshed her mascara in the mirror of the ladies and was just about to push the brush back into the tube when the swing door opening made her look up and at the reflection of the person who’d come halfway through it.

  It was the man from the lounge, but his gaze quickly left hers to check for other occupants. When he realised they were alone he returned his attention to her, moved inside the room and leaned his back against the door.

  “That’s the problem with departure lounges. Nothing in them to help you kill time.” He stayed where he was, anticipating a reaction.

  She casually applied more mascara that she didn’t need and said nothing.

  He seemed to take this as a cue and took two steps forward. “I’m an observer. I watch and identify exactly who the people around me are.”

  Poppy took her time zipping her mascara away in her canary yellow clutch purse, briefly thought about her sushi knife stashed away in the ladies room in the main terminal and then turned to face him. He moved forward another pace and she estimated, even in her heels, that he was a foot taller than her. His figure was starting to exhibit the surplus of middle age, but his frame was solid and stocky and he was using it to block her path to the exit.

  “I’ve watched you longer than I needed to. Know why?”

  Poppy knew she didn’t need to contribute.

  “I can tell you’re like me. You take exactly what you want.”

  Poppy felt no threat from the man, but was interested to see how he would proceed. She registered he’d already taken off and pocketed his half spectacles. She stepped forward to leave and he moved his body slightly, but sufficiently enough to obstruct her. She looked up at his grey blue eyes as he tried to fix her as meaningfully as he could.

 
“You smelt so good when you passed me.” He cocked his head towards the door. “Nothing to do out there but sit and consider time we’ll never get back. A cubicle in here, however, that’s got potential.”

  She breathed in through her nostrils as if considering his proposition. He was a tanned, handsome man. Probably had a respectable job, a faithful wife and more than his fair share of wealth and family happiness. What made him and so many like him respond to such a self-destructive compulsion?

  “I’ve put the cleaning sign in front of the door. But we’ll have to act quickly.” He raised his eyebrows, hard-selling it now.

  She wondered how many lackeys he had saying “yes’ to him and how long it had taken this man to convince himself that his licence in the boardroom counted for anything in the real, dangerous world. She reached up to his face and put her finger against his lips. He breathed heavily through his nostrils. Under the artificial breath freshener she could detect that he’d been eating spicy meat.

  Poppy pushed her finger into the warmth of his mouth. His surprise quickly dissolved and he kept his eyes fixed on her while he greedily sucked it. She felt his hot tongue licking gently under the pad and watched the muscles of his expression relax. Chemicals were already firing inside him, much quicker than normal if public bathrooms were usually where he operated.

  She was tempted, but Poppy could ring-fence what was vital. After a few moments she broke eye contact, pulled her finger from his lips and wiped it deliberately on his lemon shirt. His chest heaved as he waited for her next move. She turned, picked up her clutch purse and made to leave.

  “I know you’re hiding something.” The enticement had left his voice and he moved sideways, his foot intercepting her step so one of her heels was either side of his leg.

  Poppy turned and raised an eyebrow.

  The man reached inside his jacket and pulled out a police badge. “I’m paid to notice these things. You don’t fit in with anybody out there. Am I right?” His tone was suddenly unrefined.

  It wasn’t what Poppy had expected to hear and she realised she’d betrayed herself with her reaction.

  “You’re working too hard to appear calm. I’ve sat opposite a lot of people wearing the same mask as you. It can convince passport control, but if I were to bust you now we both know I wouldn’t need to put in too many hours to find something you wouldn’t want me to.”

  Poppy instantly realised the situation would become unsalvageable if they stepped outside the bathroom.

  “Now we can deal with this through the appropriate channels or…” He stepped back, leaving her path to the door clear, “…we can pick up from where we were.” He pocketed his badge and waited for her response.

  Poppy nodded once and it was his turn to use his eyebrows. He flicked them at the row of cubicles. She turned and sauntered along the row, her mind processing possibilities as he followed her. She could suck his cock; let him do whatever he wanted to her. But it would be an admission of guilt and even though there was a good chance he’d leave her alone after he’d emptied his balls it was an option she’d already dismissed.

  The cubicles were all open and empty, but she didn’t stop until she reached the last one. She stepped inside and turned at the threshold. He was close behind her and filled the doorway.

  “We were doing so well before. Sorry about the unpleasantness.”

  She knew his apology was offered so his own enjoyment wouldn’t be marred. She smiled and pushed her clutch purse against the centre of his chest. He instinctively put up both hairy hands to support it. Bemused, he held it in position while she unzipped it, rummaged inside and pulled out her cherry ChapStick. She applied it to her lips and watched his mouth tussling with a grin that threatened to break out over his face. The power was hers again.

  She put the ChapStick back in her bag. Then while both his hands were momentarily occupied she grabbed the end of his blue silk tie and stepped further backwards into the cubicle. She slammed the door before he could enter and slid the bolt with her other hand.

  He was left the other side of it, but the tie slid loosely through the gap in the door as she tightened her grip. She felt him pull away from her and quickly braced the back of her boot against the bowl before yanking down hard. His head struck the door solidly and she heard him yell.

  Poppy allowed the tie to slide almost all the way back through the gap as he tried to stand upright and then tensed again and used her body weight to batter his head against the door for a second and third time. The cries stopped, but he was obviously still on his feet. She gripped the tie further up with her other hand and wound the free end round it before jerking it down again. His skull echoed against the hard door with another tug and she could feel the resistance slacken.

  It was just his unconscious weight pulling the tie back through the gap now, but she planted her sole against the door and battered his head repeatedly. The silk slid down the gap and she felt his bulk tip away from her. She released it and heard his impact on the tiles the other side.

  Opening the door Poppy quickly checked for other passengers. Nobody else had entered. She looked down at him; the right side of his forehead had split and was smeared with dark blood. It was also pouring thickly from one nostril and his burst lip. She dragged him inside the cubicle by the backs of his shoes and locked herself in while she sat him upright on the seat.

  His mouth hissed as she leaned his spine against the wall. Concussion and maybe brain damage would probably mean he wasn’t going to move from his position before her flight took off, but she couldn’t take any chances. She took a scarf out of her purse and tied his hands behind his back. Then Poppy stuffed the edge of the clutch purse all the way inside his mouth and closed his nostrils with her other fingers.

  She used her whole weight to retain her position over his shoulders as he bucked underneath her. He didn’t appear to regain consciousness though and the jerking of his stomach muscles weakened until she was able to release his face and watch the last air bubbling red out of his nose and mouth.

  She climbed out over the top of the door leaving it locked from inside and then rummaged inside her purse again. She used three cosmetic wipes to remove the blood smudges on the door and then tossed them over the top of it.

  Tam was sitting cross-legged in front of the cage, as motionless as the girl.

  When he’d arrived he thought she’d been moved. The sliding door had been wide open and a third of the chicken house’s feathered occupants had spilled out onto the ramp and the yard above. He thought the door rolled back was a sign that it no longer contained her. But when he’d peered cautiously inside he’d found her in the same position. The chair was where it had been before. Checking that nobody was about, he’d stepped inside. He’d deposited the stack of food canisters on the soft floor and carefully sat down. He’d thought she was dead.

  She was on her side and her fellow captives blocked his observation, rooting around the scant stalks of straw that had been scattered over the floor. Only holding his breath and staring unblinkingly through the gloom at her shoulders lightly rising and falling confirmed she was still alive.

  He exhaled gradually through his nostrils. He didn’t want her to know he was here yet. The cage was still secured by the padlock and the hood still covered her head. He needed to remove that more than anything else. See her face and make up his mind for himself if it should be hidden away.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Since her escape attempt Libby hadn’t been given water, food or glimpsed the ration of light she’d seen when her hood had been lifted at the mouth. The darkness had taken on a new consistency now, its bulk blotting out the other colours that had previously thronged her eyes. The tiny space between the hood and her perception of it had closed up and she was losing sense of everything below her neck.

  She vaguely acknowledged she was lying on her shoulder. The commode had been removed and she’d been left to relieve herself on the floor. The skin of her thighs stung and the birds p
ecked and scuttled about her motionless body. There would be no rescue. Ransom paid or not, she doubted she would ever be allowed to go free.

  If money had been demanded against her life she again speculated about her worth. How much would be paid to ensure she wouldn’t be excised from the lives of others? She was significant to Luke’s. He’d asked her to marry him. She hadn’t dared tell her parents about their plans though. Dad already thought she was too young to be pregnant.

  Now she’d never prove to him what a responsible mother she believed she could be. She remembered how excited they’d all been when Jessie was about to become a belated part of the family. But Libby had been envious as well, thought Dad had only been ecstatic because he needed a daughter he could have a real connection to.

  The one thing she vowed her child would have was what her father hadn’t given her – his presence. It was why she was determined to marry Luke. She hadn’t thought he’d be the one when she’d first met him. Mum had made fun of his single eyebrow, had jokingly said it was a sign he couldn’t be trusted. Libby had soon grown tired of shaving out the middle of it with her razor though and Luke had been glad when she’d given up. She considered how it had needled her in the early days and how ridiculous that seemed now.

  Was someone here? She lifted her head and strained to listen. Above the sporadic cawing of the chickens she thought she’d heard a metallic sound nearby. Her neck and stomach muscles strained with the exertion and she rested her face against the bottom of the cage again. She waited, grateful that nobody was unlocking the door. Perhaps somebody was watching her all the time. She could taste congealed blood in her throat from calling for help through the gag. She’d given up on yelling Luke’s name. If he were a prisoner in the same room he certainly would have answered by now.