You'll Be Sorry

by Emmy Ellis

  Dan pulled over outside The China Cabin. He looked in the rearview. Lendall’s taillights grew smaller.

  That’s right. Nothing to see here, dickface.

  The lights dwindled and disappeared around the bend to the winding road, and Dan got out of his car. A uniform guarded the door, hands behind his back. Dan sidestepped him and entered the shop. Two male SOCOs stood behind the counter, their chatter ceasing at his approach.

  “Everything going okay?” he asked, hands in his pockets. He palmed the surveillance DVD and reminded himself to dispose of it later.

  One of the men flexed his latex-gloved fingers and rounded his shoulders. “Yep. Nearly done out the back. Just the shop to cover, then when she’s been taken, we’ll go over the carpet, the boxes she’s on.”

  Dan jerked his head in the uniform’s direction. “You’ll have to ring for the ME. I can’t stay.” He held in laughter at the thought of where he had to go, what the next few hours held in store for him.

  “Will do,” the man said.

  “Good, good.” Dan nodded. “Any problems, contact DI Hicks. He’s on duty tonight. I only nipped out to check the scene again. May I?” he asked, his gaze darting past them to the shop’s rear.

  “Yeah. You’ve been out there anyway, and we’ve bagged all we need.”

  Dan rounded the counter and stood in the doorway. Another SOCO stood from kneeling beside the body and gave a nod, squeezing past Dan and joining the other two.

  Monique lay as he’d left her, the neck bruise pronounced, angry. Her hair splayed out over the boxes, a red wreath around a purple-hued face sporting a black tongue that pointed towards her chin. She revolted him, but her lies revolted him more. Why couldn’t she have just told the truth? If she had, she’d be upstairs in bed, tucked beneath the quilt, her chest rising and falling instead of being stationary.

  Stupid cow.

  He turned from her and went to the main door. “I suspect Hicks will send someone to go through her flat. See you at the next one,” he said and held up his hand in goodbye.

  Laughter followed him from the shop.

  That’s it, lads, keep your spirits up.

  He got in his car and pulled away, narrowing his eyes at a taxi taking a right two streets up. Intuition told him to park. He obeyed and left his car idling at the kerb, door ajar. He jogged to the turning and flattened himself against the block of flats. Peering round the corner, hands flat on the wall, he stared at the taxi outside the opposite building. Exhaust fumes spewed into the air. He made a mental note of the number plate to report the driver for emissions and chuckled at his dedication to the job.

  A slight female figure emerged from the building, the light from the lamppost illuminating her. A man’s top dwarfed her torso, the hood covering her hair. She glanced up and down the street, large handbag clutched to her chest, and he drew back a bit. Denims covered slim legs. He concentrated on her. His gaze roamed her and stopped at the boots.

  Kerry’s boots.

  A loud, strangled grunt left him, and she looked up and in his direction. Those fucking sunglasses sitting on top of her small nose, the bottom curve of one frame resting on a bruised and puffy cheek, gave her identity away. She gasped and yanked the rear taxi door open, shoved in her bag, and launched herself inside, shouting something he couldn’t make out. The taxi sped off before she’d even closed the door, spumes of smoke obscuring the taillights. The streetlamp glinted off the rear windscreen—and off the lenses of those sunglasses on the face of his wife, who stared out of the window, her mouth round and wide.

  Rage lumbered through him, and he waited to see which turn the taxi took at the end of the street. It veered left. Dan spun, his head giddy, his heart throbbing so hard it brought pain. He raced to his car, his feet going farther than he intended. Once back at the door, he slipped inside and yanked on his seat belt. He moved off too fast, and the car stalled, jerking the door closed. Cursing, he restarted the engine and lurched forward.

  Ahead, the taxi’s front bumper peeped out of the third street along. Why had it turned around to come back? Dan sneered and stomped on the accelerator. The taxi headed towards him. He deviated across the road, and the taxi slewed to the opposite side. Angered, Dan mirrored it, intent on smashing into the vehicle head-on if it meant stopping the damn thing.

  The road between them shortened, both cars veering to and fro. Dan sped up and wrenched the steering wheel to the right. His car’s rear fishtailed and smashed into the taxi’s passenger door. The taxi shunted sideways, its boot smacking into a lamppost. Both vehicles continued forward side by side. Dan stared at the driver then glanced into the back seat. No passenger.

  She’ll be wedged between the front and back seats, scared witless, the silly bitch.

  He laughed and stared ahead to make sure the road remained clear. The T-junction was feet away, lights set to GO, the officer guarding The China Cabin nowhere in sight. The taxi nosed on, and Dan matched its speed. The other car inched farther forward again. The lights turned red, but both vehicles took the winding road to Harmondsey.

  An oncoming car’s headlamps flashed then dipped. He blinked, and the light’s impression spangled on his retinas, blinding him for a second or two. He yanked the steering wheel to the right, and his car ground against the taxi. A whoosh denoted the oncoming car barrelling past him on the left. He smiled, his laughter barking out of him, and nudged the cab again. It swung into the bushes, its bumper meeting an oak’s solid trunk. Dan continued a few metres, and he glanced in his side mirror. Smoke billowed from the other car’s bonnet, obscuring his view. He jammed on the brakes and reversed, the taxi’s horn blaring into the night.

  Out on the verge, he grabbed the passenger-side handle and wrestled the door open. The driver sat up and back, the horn mercifully ceasing. His head lolled on the headrest, his nose smashed, blood covering his lower face, the sight eerie in the glow of the interior light. He groaned and lifted his hand to his forehead. A knot bloomed there, and his fingers probed the small mountain. Another moan filled the car, and Dan stared into the back seat.

  No Kerry.

  Where the fuck is she?

  He lunged into the car, one knee on the seat, and gripped the driver’s jacket lapel. “Where’s the woman you picked up?”

  A gargle left the cabbie’s mouth, and blood bubbles dribbled down his chin. His eyes rolled, and his hand fell into his lap.

  “Don’t you fucking die on me now. Where is she?” Dan jerked the bloke towards him. “I need to know where she’s gone.” His heart beat too hard, and he fought the urge to scream. He shook the man, and a speck of blood plopped onto the back of his hand.

  “Gone,” the driver said, moonlight filtering through the window onto his auburn hair.

  Dan swallowed bile. Another redhead. God, how he hated them. Hated the colour for what it represented. An uncaring mother, a shitty childhood, birthing a force inside him to control his destiny and every other thing in his life.

  If it wasn’t for her…

  “Gone where?” he shouted. “Back there in Gradley? Where?” His gums ached, and his Adam’s apple throbbed with the intensity of his voice.

  The man turned his head to face him. He lifted his hand, thumb pointing towards Gradley. “She…she…” His breaths came out in pants, eyes closing. His head flopped back, and his arm dropped down by his side. His chest rose and fell, the movements shallow. Blood seeped from his nose and over his lips, a clot filling one nostril.

  “For fuck’s sake!”

  Dan pulled his arm back and delivered an uppercut to the driver’s nose, his rage so fierce the bone and cartilage shifted upwards. He swiped his fist over the bloke’s jacket to rid himself of blood and stared at his knuckles. Pinkness remained. He’d have to sort that out later.

  The cabbie sat motionless, his cheek resting on his shoulder.

  What the hell was he supposed to do about the cab, the driver?

  Someone will probably report it in when they drive past.
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  He scanned the road. All clear. He’d bet Kerry had been dropped off again almost as soon as she was picked her up. Crafty bitch. With a sniff, he stared at the man. His chest no longer moved. Dan reached out and felt for a pulse. Didn’t find one. He shrugged, backed out of the car, and walked to his own.

  He drove towards Gradley, his mind settled on the mission ahead.

  He needed to find Kerry. Nothing else mattered. He’d drive up and down all night if he had to. She wouldn’t get away.

  Chapter Eighteen

  On the winding road into Harmondsey, worry had nipped Mark’s guts. He should have waited until the taxi arrived. Why had Dan returned to Gradley? His time at the crime scene should have been over. Seeing his leering face had Mark’s jaw clenching and his stomach in knots. Nearly at the city’s outskirts, unable to keep driving forward, he’d screeched to a halt, reversed into the bushes, and made his way back to Gradley, thankful it wasn’t his Jeep getting scratched by shrubbery.

  When the oncoming cars had almost driven into him, Mark’s heart skipped several beats, and he’d yanked the steering wheel to get out of the way. His headlights picked out Stone’s Mazda and another vehicle. What the hell was going on?

  * * * *

  Kerry hid in the woods bordering the winding road. She bent over, hands on her knees. Gasps coming hard and fast, she waited until she had her breathing under control. Upright again, she turned to face the way she’d come, took off her sunglasses, and peered through the trees. The forest’s density prevented her from seeing anything other than tree trunks. No sounds pervaded the area except her breathing and the occasional chatter of what she supposed was night animals.

  She lowered to the ground, the mulch cold and damp on her arse, and leant on a trunk. The knotted whorls dug into her back, and she shifted into a more comfortable position. She opened her bag and unzipped the inner compartment, the sight of Mark’s phone so welcome. Quickly, she slipped her arm and head through the loop of the bag’s handle so the strap rested diagonally across her chest. Lifting her hand, she tugged down the hood of Mark’s top. Despite the nip in the air, she’d warmed up during her short run, and sweat dripped down her temples. Mobile in hand, she switched it on and waited for it to light up.

  “Come on…come on…”

  She glanced up and around, sure there was snuffling in the undergrowth. She held her breath and stared, eyes wide, pulse thudding in her ears. The phone bleeped, but she ignored it, sat still, and waited for the noise again.

  Nothing.

  She released the breath and pressed the screen to select CONTACTS. Scrolled down. Picked WORK and thumbed the CALL button. Phone pressed to her ear, she squinted into the darkness.

  “Kerry? You okay?” Mark said. Sounds of him being in a car drifted down the line—the indicator ticked and an engine hummed.

  His voice brought a lump to her throat. She swallowed and said, her voice low, “No. He came along when I got in the taxi, so I hid in the rear footwell. He rammed the car and, shit, Mark, he ran us off the bloody road. I climbed out when the car hit a tree, and I’m in the woods. The driver…I think he’s hurt. His head smacked onto the steering wheel—there was no bloody airbag—but I couldn’t stay to help him, I—”

  “Are you in the woods to the left of the road just before entering Gradley?”

  “Yes, and it’s so dark. I heard a noise, and I’m shitting myself.”

  “Okay. I just passed the cars; I was on my way back to make sure you’d left, that he hadn’t got hold of you. Saw his car but didn’t make out the other as a taxi. I thought he was on his way back from The China Cabin and was maybe pulling someone over. Shit. How far into the woods are you?”

  She stared towards where the road was. “A few hundred metres. If you park near the taxi, go through the bushes and keep walking, you’ll see a”—she glanced about—“stand of trees and a couple of big oaks.”

  “Okay. I’ve just turned around. I’m heading back that way now. Sit tight; don’t move!”

  “Unless he comes after me.” She shivered. A twig cracked, and she snapped her head in the sound’s direction. “Shit, Mark, I heard another noise. Please, come quickly.” She bit her knuckles.

  “Okay. Look around. Is there anything specific that can point me to your exact location?” He paused, and she reckoned his engine stopped.

  Kerry stood and did as instructed. Trees, trees, and more trees. “There’s nothing here. If I hear you, I’ll call out, yes?”

  “No, don’t call out, just in case…” Mark let out a breath. “His car’s gone. Thank God for that. Okay, I’m at the taxi.” Another pause. “Oh fuck. The driver’s dead. Hang on the line a second while I call in for help.”

  Kerry leant her back against the tree and held the phone tight. A car swooshed past, the sound of it in both ears strange—loud in one and faint in the other. She wasn’t too far from the road then.

  Maybe I should walk back to Mark.

  “Kerry?” Mark said. “I want you to stay put in case you go in the wrong direction. Officers should arrive in about ten minutes. I’ll explain about Dan when they get here. God knows if they’ll believe me, but shit, something’s got to be done about that bloke.”

  “I know.” Kerry rested her head on the tree and toed the ground, shoulders relaxing a bit. “I’m going to tell them everything. What with the driver being dead, that shop girl, Sara—” She whipped her head round, heart beating rapidly, and swore she’d heard… “Mark. Someone’s in here with me.”

  “It’s probably just animals. Hang on. I’ll come through the bushes.”

  Leaves rustled, and Mark’s sharp curse wafted through the phone, a reassurance in her ear. She pushed off the tree and flicked her gaze around her immediate surroundings, turning in a circle to get a glimpse from all angles. Her back to the road, she peered into the woods. Everything appeared as woods should. Tree trunks stretched for what seemed like miles, their dark widths maybe a metre apart, the spaces between them slimmer the farther ahead she looked. Moonlight struggled to penetrate the branches, only glimpses of the big round ball showing through the leaves.

  She shuddered and concentrated on the sounds coming down the phone line. Footsteps. Panting breaths. “Mark?” she whispered. “How far in are you?”

  “A few metres,” he whispered back. “On my phone, there’s a torch application. Cut the call and select the torch. Flash it a few times, then call me back.”

  “I’m scared to. What if…what if he’s in here and he sees it?”

  “Shit, yeah. Um…what about doing it really quickly? I might have taken a path away from the one you took. It feels like I’m walking a straight line, but it’s so dense in here, I’m unsure if I’ve gone farther from you.”

  She sighed, her instincts telling her not to hang up. “I-I can’t. I don’t want to lose contact. You might not see the flash anyway. There are too many trees.”

  “I’ll keep walking. I’ll find you, and if I don’t, the dogs will. I told them back at the station they’re needed.”

  Kerry let out a relieved huff. “Mark?”

  A shuffle sounded, and her stomach rolled over at the thought of him so close. She longed to shout, but instead twirled around in the hope of seeing him in the darkness.

  “I’m here. I can see the trees but can’t see you.”

  She stepped forward into a clearing about three-by-three feet wide and waved her free hand. “See me now?”

  “No. Maybe I’m coming in from the wrong side. Walk around the largest oak. I’ll tell you when to stop if I spot you.”

  She turned to walk back to the largest tree.

  Dan blocked her path.

  She gasped and struggled to inhale, but the breath caught in her throat. She nearly dropped the phone.

  “Kerry?” Mark said.

  Her knees buckled, and she forced them to straighten.

  Fight or flight? Fight or flight?

  “Mark! He’s—”

  “I’ll have that,�
�� Dan said and snatched the mobile. His shadowed face didn’t look like him, eye whites and a line of bright teeth in a circle of gloom. “Did you really think you could get away?” He dropped the phone and stomped on it, his shoe heel cracking the screen.

  Kerry’s heart stuttered then resumed beating, fast, too fast. She screamed and darted to the left, her intention to run around the big trunk so Mark could see her.

  “Kerry?” Mark called. Close.

  Dan’s arm shot out, and he gripped her hair, wrenching her towards him. He spun her around, placing her back against his chest. The contact sickened her, and she screamed again and flailed to get away.

  “Kerry?” Dan mimicked. “Well, he can fuck right off. You’re my woman, understand? Mine.”

  She clenched her jaw, breathing through her nose, and Dan shuffled her sideways. He swung her around, and she faced a different direction to where she’d entered the forest. Dan tightened his grip, and she yelped, her scalp throbbing.

  “Kerry?” Mark called, sounding panicked.

  “Over here!” she shouted.

  Dan’s hand clamped over her mouth, and she tried to bite his palm. Kicking back, she aimed for his legs but only met tree trunk. His hot breath on her ear prodded her to fight him off, revulsion venturing through her body at an alarming rate. Although loath to touch him, she raised her arms and gripped his hand, pulling down hard to remove it from her face. He held firm and gave her hair a sharp yank. Anger surged inside her, for everything he’d done and what he did now. She screamed, mortified her muffled sounds wouldn’t carry far. With a quick jolt, she snapped her head back and caught his chin. He grunted and pressed his hand harder, the side of his pointer finger almost cutting off her air supply beneath her nostrils.

  “Keep still,” he whispered harshly. “You really don’t want Lover Boy to find us…not with the mood I’m in.”

  Dread pooled in her tummy, and, knowing more officers were en route, she fought hard to strike him any way she could. Fists balled, she flung her arms around, their contact with his body pitifully inadequate. He laughed, low, sinister, almost silent, sending shivers up her spine.