I Know Where She Is: a breathtaking thriller that will have you hooked from the first page

by S. B. Caves

  For a few brief seconds she could not see past the muzzle flash, but she knew she had missed – that somehow, miraculously, she had missed Dane at point-blank range, though she had sent him diving off the path. An erratic clap of gunfire came back at her, but she had leapt to her feet before their battle senses returned, and taken off into the trees. She could hear their voices behind her.

  ‘Fucking bitch has a gun!’

  ‘Are you hit? Did she get you?’

  ‘No,’ Dane yelled. ‘Who the fuck is she?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Abe said.

  ‘What the fuck is going on here?’

  The lethargy left her body and she dashed through the trees, moving like a woman twenty years younger, all those tedious, gruelling hours of incline sprints on the treadmill paying her back with interest. Her legs were strong and she could run for miles at this pace – leaping, climbing, rolling, it made no difference; she was primed for this very moment. She could hear them pursuing her, shooting aimlessly into the darkness. The bullets peeled past her and ate away at the surrounding trees. She cut left, scouted the forest for their locations. She could only make out one of them, so she aimed and fired, letting off three shots without much hope of them landing. A rat-a-tat-tat came back at her, the bullets zipping past. She ran on, keeping low, looking for a spot to take cover. There was a felled tree trunk not too far away, so she bolted to it and sprawled on her stomach, lying as still as possible, her gun aiming into the blackness. She listened out for the noise of their movement, could hear their bodies brushing through branches, the chug of their breathing. They were fat and out of shape compared to her. That would work against them.

  She saw one of them – Dane, was it? – and fixed her sights on him. He slowed to a trot, then realised he was exposed and in the open and hunkered down on his haunches, creeping with his rifle like a trained marine. Francine kept her gun on him, but she knew that if she shot and missed, she was a sitting duck. He’d spray the log and chop her to bits.

  ‘You see her anywhere, Abe?’ Dane yelled, and as he spoke, Francine saw the breath puff out of his mouth. She waited for Abe’s reply, hoping it would give her some sense of his position. ‘Abe? You got a lock on her?’

  He continued to creep towards the log, his head whipping birdlike in every direction. Francine eased herself up slightly and prepared to shoot.

  ‘Abe? You hear me?’

  ‘I hear you,’ Abe said, and his voice was coming from directly behind her.

  She felt something prod the back of her skull.

  ‘Don’t move. Drop the hardware.’

  Francine cringed. Dane spotted her and jogged forward with his rifle trained on her.

  ‘I said drop it!’ Abe said, jabbing the barrel of his rifle harder into her scalp, jerking her head forward.

  The pit of her stomach fell away. She contemplated her options, wondering if it was worth shooting Dane for the sake of it, just to take him down at the very least. She knew that it was futile, though. Before she could even touch the trigger, her brain matter would be sticking to the trees like sap. She dropped the gun.

  Something cracked her on the head. Her teeth slammed together, clipping her tongue, and her mouth filled with blood. Within a couple of seconds, she was out cold.

  27

  Autumn often fantasised about her mother. Even up until recently, there were nights when she would wake up completely and utterly convinced that her mom was standing by her bunk, soothing her with a lullaby. When she was younger, and naive to the ways of the house, she’d imagined that her mom was trying to rescue her. Other times she would imagine her speaking to her, asking questions about how she felt, and Autumn would answer them aloud. But then she grew older, became wise and hardened by the touch of men, and came to realise that her sense of her mother was manufactured purely to comfort her. Perhaps it was her psyche’s way of protecting her from irretrievable madness.

  Even now, having slaughtered a guard like a pig and with the stink of his blood all over her hands, Autumn believed that she still clung to her rational mind. And yet she couldn’t account for what she had just witnessed. To call it a hallucination would be to betray her inner self, that quiet, echoing place where lies were not allowed. Because after everything she’d done in the last couple of days, all the hardships she’d faced, all the psychological tricks she’d relied on to keep her mind from slipping down into that viper pit of madness, she truly believed she had just heard her mother’s voice.

  She stood in the forest, unable to move, forgetting to breathe until the air hitched in her lungs. The rifle became an anchor in her hands, but it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the spot; otherwise a cold gust of wind might’ve blown her away.

  She had watched the entire exchange crouched by the body of the man she’d killed. When she’d first seen the woman on the path, she couldn’t quite decipher what was happening, so with the two guards by the Jeep distracted, she had inched closer. The sound of the woman’s voice had been like a bucket of freezing-cold water splashing her in the face. All the years spent locked away in the big house had dulled the image of her mother’s face, but when she heard her voice, she could picture her perfectly. Memories pummelled her brain, intimate little pieces of footage that she hadn’t thought of in years.

  *If you’re tired, little girl, close your eyes and … *

  But then the woman had pulled a gun and started shooting, before rushing into the trees.

  A strong feeling of recognition shivered through Autumn. She had just witnessed her mother attempt to murder those two guards. As she scrambled to piece together the strange episode in her mind, she began to cry, though whether they were tears of joy, sadness or anger, she couldn’t be sure. The melange of emotions muddled her senses, and she didn’t know what to think, what to feel. She wanted so badly to believe that the woman was her mother, for she’d looked and sounded the part. But if she was wrong, she didn’t think she would be able to cope with it. And now a new emotion crept into the mix: fear. Oh, she’d explored the depths of fear so many times before that it was like an old friend to her now, and yet this was something new, another layer she hadn’t known existed.

  She waited for the noise of her thoughts to quieten, and made a decision.

  That big guard, Abe, had thumped the woman over the head with the butt of his rifle and knocked the fight right out of her. Then they’d picked her up and dragged her away, back through the gate and towards the house. If her mom was still alive, Autumn knew exactly where they were going to take her.

  With the rifle slung over her back, she headed towards the fence that encircled the grounds. They might have left the front gate unlocked and unmanned, but she was not yet crazy enough to walk through it, rifle or no rifle. Instead she took the scenic route and went through the trees, replaying the scene in her head. It had to be her mom. That was the only thing that made any sense.

  She followed the fence around until she came to the dip that would allow her to slip beneath it. She scooted under and re-emerged into the grounds, retracing her steps from earlier. It almost made her laugh: she had returned to the one place they would never think to look for her. That didn’t matter, though, because now she was looking for them.

  She marched across the lawn with strength in her legs for the first time in days. It might’ve been the gun that lent her strength, or it might’ve been the sight of her mother; she wasn’t sure. Ultimately it made no difference. Everything ended tonight, one way or another.

  She approached the guards’ dorm from the rear, sneaking up to the back window and tiptoeing to see inside. The place was empty. A sound made her jump and she fell to the ground clutching the rifle. With her back to the dorm, she listened carefully and realised it was the noise of a radio left on one of the beds. She got back to her feet and, staying hidden in the shadows just outside the floodlights’ radius, made her way towards the back door of the main house. It was wide open.

  The house was completely silent,
except for the squelch of her muddy feet sticking to the kitchen floor, and the low hum of the large refrigerator. Her footprints would be a dead giveaway, but there wasn’t a great deal she could do about that, so she made no attempt to cover them up. She walked slowly, methodically, the rifle aimed out in front of her ready to go off at the first thing that moved.

  She relished the softness of the carpet beneath her feet, the comfort of being inside in the warmth without the rain spitting down on her face. The silence rang in her ears. She was unable to fully adjust to the idea of not having the wind growling through her head. She ventured down the hallway and came to the stone steps that descended to the basement. Before she went down them, she stopped and listened keenly. She thought she heard the clink of chains, but she could have easily imagined it. There were definitely no voices and so she began the descent, one step at a time …

  And stopped. There was a noise, but not from the basement; from outside the house. She craned her neck to see out through the reinforced sliding glass doors, and spotted the two guards standing with Joseph on the porch.

  ‘Explain it to me properly, will you?’ Joseph yelled, his voice high and shaky, riddled with hysteria.

  ‘You need to calm down,’ Abe told him. ‘I can’t talk to you when you’re acting like this.’

  Joseph’s jet-black hair was hanging limply down his pale face. ‘Just tell me, will you?’

  ‘Maybe we should talk inside,’ Abe suggested.

  ‘What’s wrong with right here? Who fucking cares?’

  ‘The man upstairs might care,’ Abe said, and waited for his words to register.

  Joseph’s arms flew up in the air and he slumped against the window. ‘Fine. Fine, have it your way. I forgot that you’re the boss now, not me.’

  ‘Neither of us is the boss,’ Abe corrected, pointing upwards. ‘He is. So shall we go inside, or do you want to stay out here and cry some more?’

  Without answering, Joseph whirled and charged into the reception area. Autumn ducked down, but was still able to see them from where she was crouched on the stairs.

  ‘The woman jumped us in the road. She had a gun. She just started shooting,’ Dane said before Abe pressed a large hand on his arm, cutting him short.

  ‘We don’t know who she is,’ Abe said. ‘We checked her for ID, she had none. We’ve got her locked in the basement now with a collar on. She ain’t going nowhere.’

  Joseph covered his face with his hands and shook his head. Without removing them, he said, ‘And the girl? I suppose there’s no word on her, is there?’

  ‘We were dealing with this woman,’ Abe said.

  ‘Who gives a flying fuck about the woman?’ Joseph shouted, grabbing two fistfuls of his own hair. Autumn wanted to laugh. ‘You should’ve just put a bullet in her and left her in the road, then carried on with your job. Mr Wydebird doesn’t care about the woman, he cares about the girl! What do I have to do to stress the importance of this?’

  ‘I understand the importance perfectly,’ Abe said calmly. ‘Me and Dane will get back out there now and continue the search.’

  ‘No, just stop, just stop a minute! We need to talk to the woman in the basement,’ Joseph said, wiping his eyes. He started down the hallway, then stopped suddenly. ‘You,’ he pointed at Dane, ‘get out there and carry on. This doesn’t take both of you. Go on!’

  Dane turned away like a chastised dog and exited the house.

  ‘I have over a dozen of you looking for one girl.’ Joseph shook his head in disgust. ‘You’re supposed to be trained men. What exactly are you trained in? It sounds like this woman ran you ragged, the same way those little girls have done. Do you have no honour?’ He was slurring his words, tripping over his tongue. When Abe didn’t reply, he said, ‘You men are supposed to be able to comb the woods. You’ve been on tours overseas. And yet you’ve shown me nothing – NOTHING!’

  After a moment’s silence, Abe said, ‘Are you finished?’

  ‘God, you really are just a big lump, aren’t you? Come on, take me to the woman!’

  The rifle started to quiver in Autumn’s hands as the footsteps grew louder. Her lungs tightened as she fought to control her breathing. The two men appeared at the top of the stone steps, and stopped when they saw the figure standing in the shadows.

  ‘Stay where you are—’ Abe began, but Autumn had already pulled the trigger. The gun’s barrel jerked up as the bullets sprayed out, tattooing the guard across his stomach and chest. He dropped his weapon and clutched his belly as blood splashed out of him and he collapsed to the ground.

  The side of Joseph’s face was awash with blood. He reached up to touch his cheek, then looked at his crimson palm in terror, his mouth working soundlessly. As his faculties started to return, he clumsily attempted to scramble up the stairs.

  ‘Don’t move,’ Autumn said, and her words were enough to stop him in his tracks. He could not seem to look at her, though. His eyes were drawn to Abe’s belly, at the way the overhead lights gleamed in the pile of innards, transfixed by the thin wisp of steam rising from the gore.

  ‘M-M- Melody …’

  ‘Don’t speak.’

  ‘Yes, you’re the boss,’ he surrendered, keeping his hands high so she could see them at all times.

  ‘Get down here and open the basement door.’

  Gripping the banister, Joseph obeyed the order, his legs trembling as though he’d never used them before. ‘Yes, you’re quite right. Please don’t shoot, Melody. I have a wife. I have two sons. Remember I told you about them? Jack and Ben. Remember?’

  ‘Open the door.’

  He brushed past her, the keys jangling in his hand. It took him a while to get his fingers to work and pick out the key that would open the door. It scratched around the lock before he was able to slide it home. The hinges creaked as the door opened.

  ‘Get the light,’ Autumn said. Joseph went inside and located the switch, and the basement illuminated in sections.

  * * *

  The light hit Francine’s eyes and she scrunched them closed. An elevator of pain rode its way up her spine and stopped at the top floor.

  Then she saw Autumn and there was no pain. There was no sound. There was nothing in the entire world except the two of them. She tried to get to her feet but was yanked painfully back down to the cold, hard concrete. Pain seared her neck and she began to cough, uncontrollably.

  ‘Get that collar off her!’ Autumn screamed. ‘Do it!’

  Joseph scurried over to undo the ring around Francine’s neck. Francine’s bloodshot eyes locked on to Autumn, but Autumn remained by the stairs. There was a click, and then Francine was free.

  ‘Is it you?’ Autumn said finally. ‘Tell me if it’s you!’ she pleaded.

  Massaging her neck, Francine stood up and barged past Joseph, walking towards Autumn. Her daughter was not the little girl she remembered, and yet she was – and the contradiction was dizzying. The memories echoed through her mind: Autumn on Christmas morning, tearing open her presents; Autumn in the garden, crouched down on the grass and marvelling at a worm; Autumn in the school playground, laughing with her friends; Autumn in the mall, moaning because Francine was taking too long in the shoe shop and complaining because she wanted to buy a doughnut …

  ‘Stay where you are! Don’t come any closer.’ Autumn was crying, her face beetroot with the effort. But Francine did not stop walking. She reached out to her daughter and pulled her close, then wrapped her arms around her and squeezed her, kissing her head. She did not speak, just stood there holding her, enveloping herself in her smell, her touch, her warmth. She was in a dream. Touching Autumn made her feel whole again, and just like that, the last ten years of agony were swept away. She had not thought she would ever be happier than the moment of Autumn’s birth, but she was wrong. This was more than happiness; it was beyond ecstasy. There were no words for what she felt.

  Eventually she broke away, holding her daughter at arm’s length.

  ‘Give Momma the gu
n,’ she croaked, so low that Autumn could barely hear her. ‘It’s nearly finished now, honey. Give me the gun.’

  Drool hung from Autumn’s quivering lips as she nodded and removed the rifle strap, handing Francine the weapon.

  ‘Good girl,’ Francine said, trying to keep her voice firm, trying not to lose her composure. ‘We’ll hug and kiss and cuddle and cry when we’re out of here. But there’s a few more things we need to do first.’

  ‘What … Mom …’

  ‘Just stay strong for a little while longer, Autumn,’ She leaned forward and kissed her daughter on the forehead, then turned to Joseph, who stood huddled in the corner of the stinking, dripping basement, shaking like a terrified puppy.

  ‘One chance to live,’ Francine began. Her focus burned into the man so fiercely that she very nearly missed the other girl chained up on the opposite side of the basement. ‘Unlock that girl.’

  ‘Wendy …’ Autumn whispered and jogged over to assist Joseph in releasing her. Francine supervised, with the rifle trained on Joseph’s head and her finger caressing the trigger. When he unlocked the ring from around Wendy’s throat, the girl flopped backwards as though boneless. Autumn felt her neck for a pulse, then turned and slapped Joseph as hard as she could across his face. The clap reverberated through the basement.

  ‘Is she alive, honey?’

  ‘Just.’

  ‘All right. Help her breathe if you can. Try and bring her around.’ Just then, Francine thought about Lena, poor damaged Lena, and a fresh wave of hatred rolled through her. ‘You, stand up,’ she said through gritted teeth to Joseph. He got to his feet, his hands in the air. ‘How many men are out there in the forest?’

  ‘About a d-d-dozen.’

  ‘That sound right to you, Autumn?’