Obsession

by Susan Lewis

  ‘If he thinks … ’

  ‘What he thinks is that a lot of people have worked very hard for you to get this film ready. He thinks you owe it to them to be there for the awards ceremony.’

  ‘Do you seriously think I give a damn what Bud Winters or anyone else thinks when Corrie’s out there somewhere …’

  ‘Perhaps if you went to the ceremony,’ Mariette interrupted smoothly, ‘and relaxed a little, you might find that whatever it is you’re trying to remember will come to you.’

  ‘Leave it, Mother!’ he barked. ‘Just leave it,’ and before she could say anymore he walked out of the room to go and cool his temper and frustration in the shower.

  ‘Goddammit,’ he seethed as the powerful jets of water washed away his tears. The answer was there, it was staring him right in the face, he just knew it, but for the love of Christ he just couldn’t reach it.

  Tiny slats of sunlight were seeping through the shuttered windows striping the room in which Corrie and Annalise lay. From the chimes of the faraway clock Corrie knew that midday had come and gone some time ago now. She had no idea where Luke was, or what he was doing. He’d come into the room during the early hours, staying only a few seconds, and she’d heard nothing since except Annalise’s mumblings and her own sobs as she prayed to God to save them from the terrifying insanity that was imprisoning them.

  Annalise was sleeping quietly now and Corrie’s entire body ached with cramp. Her mouth was so tender and swollen that just the slightest movement of her lips caused her unbearable pain. Her cheeks were encrusted with tears, her hair matted with blood and perspiration.

  There was nothing she could do now to stop herself thinking of Cristos. In her mind she was reliving their moments of tenderness, listening to the gentle lilt in his voice as he told her he loved her. Her heart churned as she recalled the depth of his passion, as she almost felt the sheer strength of him, but with each thought came a wave of excruciating fear that she might never see him again.

  As fresh tears started in her eyes she felt a gentle tug at her wrists.

  ‘Corrie? Are you awake?’ Annalise whispered.

  ‘Yes,’ Corrie answered and felt her throat swell with relief that she was no longer alone. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I hurt – all over.’ Annalise’s voice was parched. ‘Where did those rabbits come from?’ she asked.

  ‘Luke brought them in during the night.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  They both froze as a sudden crash resounded through the house.

  ‘What was that?’ Annalise breathed.

  Corrie didn’t answer.

  The noise came again and again, echoing around the polished walls of the villa. Something heavy was being dragged, then glass shattered. Suddenly Luke’s voice screamed from below. It reverberated through the house, over and over. There were no words, just the torturous bellowings of a man possessed by a crucifying insanity.

  ‘Oh my God, what’s he doing?’ Corrie whispered, as Annalise’s hands curled into hers.

  ‘I can’t bear it,’ Annalise sobbed. ‘He’s going to kill us, Corrie. I know he is.’

  ‘Annalise, stop it,’ Corrie said, her chest starting to heave with her own panic. ‘We’ve got to find a way of getting out of here …’

  ‘But it’s impossible while we’re tied up like this.’

  ‘So we have to think of a way to make him untie us.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘We have to go to the bathroom.’

  ‘But it’s right there. He’ll be standing there, waiting.’

  ‘Oh Annalise, try to be positive!’ Corrie wailed. ‘I’ll say I want to go, and you have to try to run as soon as his back is turned.’

  ‘But I can’t leave you here.’

  ‘You’ll have to.’

  ‘No! Let me go to the bathroom …’

  ‘Annalise! Just do as I say. It’s me he wants, so you have to try and get away.’

  ‘But what if …’

  Annalise stopped as the door suddenly crashed open and Luke staggered in. His hair was dishevelled, so too were his clothes. He was panting for breath and saliva glistened on his lips. But what froze the blood in Corrie’s veins was the madness in his eyes.

  ‘You’ll be wanting to eat,’ he snarled, and whisking a rabbit from the floor he set it on the tray he was carrying.

  ‘Will this be the one you’re wanting?’ he said, moving towards Annalise. ‘Will this be the one you have your pretty little eyes on?’

  ‘Stop it!’ Annalise sobbed, cowering away from him.

  ‘Luke!’ Corrie cried nearing hysteria. She couldn’t see what was going on, but she didn’t have to – the menace in his voice was unmistakable.

  ‘What? You’ll not be wanting your favourite pet there, Siobhan?’ Luke’s voice was slurred with venom.

  ‘Luke! I need to go to the bathroom!’ Corrie shouted. ‘Luke, please!’

  ‘No!’ Annalise suddenly screamed.

  Corrie twisted round and her terror and confusion were total as she saw Luke’s bloodied hand release the rabbit’s head.

  ‘No! No! I can’t stand it! I can’t stand it!’ Annalise choked. ‘Please God, help me!’

  The blood was now dripping over her face, running into her eyes, her nose and her mouth.

  ‘Now we’ll be seeing what you’ll do before I feed you,’ he grinned, and standing erect he began removing his clothes.

  ‘Anything?’ Cristos said as Phillip walked into his room.

  Phillip shook his head. In the past two days his shoulders had started to sag, and his handsome face had aged by ten years. ‘I’ve called everyone I can think of who knew Geraldine. Those who weren’t at home I’ve left messages to call me, the others … It seems that no one’s in touch with her now.’ He looked up. ‘Octavia’s flying in later today.’

  Cristos’s face hardened and as his fists clenched his mother put a hand on his arm. ‘I take it you asked her if she knew where this Lassiter woman was now,’ he snapped.

  ‘Yes, I asked her,’ Phillip sighed. ‘She said, “dead for all I know.” And we have to face it Cristos, she could be.’

  Cristos turned away, exhausted by his own anger, but unable to let it go.

  Jeannie and Mariette exchanged glances, while Richard handed Phillip a coffee.

  ‘Cristos,’ Jeannie began tentatively, ‘I got to give the publicity people an answer pretty soon now.’

  ‘It’s out of the question, Jeannie,’ Cristos told her. ‘Now quit hassling me.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Phillip asked, more for something to say than out of curiosity.

  ‘They want to know if he’s going to the ceremony tonight,’ Mariette answered. ‘And they want him to give a press conference this afternoon.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’ He looked at Cristos. ‘Maybe you should do it. I mean, life has to go on, and this film is …’

  ‘Cristos you got to do it,’ Jeannie said, suddenly excited. ‘I mean, if you talk to the cameras it’ll be broadcast all over the world. You can say you’re looking for this Geraldine Lassiter, maybe she’ll hear it. Maybe someone she knows will hear it.’

  Cristos’s eyes shot to hers, but before he could answer the telephone rang. He snatched it up.

  ‘Monsieur Bennati,’ the operator said. ‘Is Monsieur Denby with you? I have a call for him.’

  Cristos turned to Phillip and held out the receiver.

  Everyone in the room was very still as Phillip waited for the call to be put through. ‘Yes, yes, it’s Phillip Denby here. Oh, Dolly, hello how are you? Yes, that’s right I left a message … No, there’s no news yet … ’ There was a long pause as he listened to what Dolly was saying, then he said, ‘I see. Well, thanks very much for calling me back, Dolly. No, that’s quite all right, you’ve been a great help.’

  As he hung up he turned to Cristos. ‘Dolly Patterson. She knew Geraldine … All she knows is that Geraldine married s
omeone by the name of Duffel, years ago now, and went to live in the States. New York she thinks. She and Geraldine lost touch in the mid-seventies.’

  As despondency crept through the room, Cristos’s frown deepened.

  ‘So what do you say to this press conference?’ Jeannie said, once again trying to inject hope. ‘It’ll be sure to be broadcast all over the States, and if she’s still living there … ’

  But Cristos was shaking his head. ‘I don’t need a press conference to find her,’ he said, his eyes suddenly glittering with urgency. ‘In fact I don’t need to find her at all,’ and grabbing his car keys he ran out of the room.

  Luke was standing over them, brandishing the knife he had used to sever their bonds. As the blood eased into their stiffened muscles the pain was unbearable and neither of them could move. Then suddenly Luke grabbed Annalise’s arm and with a howl of manic laughter made to throw her from the bed.

  ‘Corrie! Corrie!’ Annalise cried, as Corrie scrambled to get a hold on her. But as her hands closed around Corrie’s the knife sliced through her forearm. Annalise’s cry was followed by another and another as he threw her to the floor, the knife slashing randomly at her defenceless body.

  ‘Nooo!’ Corrie screamed, but as she made to leap from the bed Luke slammed his fist into her face and she fell back, stunned and blinded by the agony.

  The sounds babbling from Luke’s lips were an incoherent stream of mania, as cackling and growling and salivating grotesquely he threw aside the knife and snatched Annalise up by the hair.

  ‘No, no, no,’ she sobbed as he dragged her to her feet. Then suddenly he punched her face so hard her whole body left the floor and she crashed against the wall behind her.

  She crumpled, like a broken doll and Corrie, dulled and disoriented, tried to force herself up as he bent over Annalise again.

  ‘Luke! No!’ she croaked, dragging herself to the edge of the bed, but Luke had already ripped off Annalise’s panties.

  A torrent of overpowering dizziness swept through Corrie’s head. From an immeasurable distance she saw Luke’s hands mauling Annalise’s lifeless body. Gathering what little strength she had Corrie threw herself against him. He staggered against the wall. She grabbed his hair, yanking his head back. He screamed with pain and she jerked so hard his back arched. Obscenities spewed from his mouth as his hands clamped around her wrists. Corrie wouldn’t let go. He screamed again, and sniggered and growled with demonic rage.

  Then suddenly he twisted out from under her. He was facing her. Corrie drew her knee back, but as she did he drove his head into her chest. The blow spun her round and sent her crashing against the dressing table. He kicked her feet from under her and she hit the floor hard. Winded and near senseless, she fought for her breath, then his foot slammed into her head, her ribs, her back and as the unbelievable pain consumed her her body went limp.

  He turned back to Annalise, panting and snarling. Sweat was dripping from his face, his saliva was stained with blood and a powerful erection protruded from his groin. Annalise was so drugged by pain she could barely see him. She grunted as he seized her by the arms and wrenching her to him he pushed his tongue deep into her mouth.

  Curled in a cocoon of agony Corrie’s eyes were struggling to focus on the knife. It was only a few feet away. She tried to move, gasped as a searing pain shot through her, but as Luke threw Annalise onto the bed she made herself try again.

  A stream of foul invective coursed from his bloodied lips. He had Annalise by the hair, was trying to force his penis into her mouth. Annalise was gagging and spluttering and using what little strength she had to turn her head away. Her fingers were reaching for his testacies.

  Corrie had the knife now. She staggered to her feet, gripping the dressing table as she started to swoon. Her vision was blurred, a blinding pain sliced through her head. She took a step forward, stumbled and fell to her knees.

  Suddenly Luke howled. His head swung back, his teeth bared in agony as like giant vices his hands clenched around Annalise’s wrists, tearing her away from him.

  ‘Cunt! Filthy, dirty, cunt!’ he screamed and drove his fist into her gut.

  As he raised his arm again, Corrie lunged. The knife sank into his shoulder, glancing off a bone. He spun round, his sunken eyes blazing like fire, his nostrils quivering with outrage.

  Corrie made to thrust again. He caught her arm, twisted it, brought her hand to his mouth and dug in his teeth. As Corrie yelped with pain the knife dropped to the floor.

  ‘Bitch!’ he seethed, her blood dripping from his lips. ‘Fucking bitch!’ And curling his fingers around her throat he charged her back across the room, dashing her head against the wall. He jerked her forward and slammed her back again – again and again. As she started to lose consciousness he clutched her arm and propelled her back to the bed.

  She fell awkwardly against Annalise, knocking her to the floor, then dimly she was aware of him rolling her over, pressing her face into the mattress and tearing off her underwear.

  ‘No, no,’ she moaned, trying to twist herself free. But she was too weak to fight him now. She felt him gripping her hips, pulling her to her knees. She saw the knife glinting in his hand as he swept it in front of her face. She heard him giggling and bellowing, smelt his putrid breath as he knelt over her – and then she felt the pain.

  It was like nothing she had ever felt in her life. It cleaved through her with such brutality it was as though her whole body was being ripped in two. She collapsed beneath him and his entire weight came down on her, and down and down. It was the knife, he was plunging the knife into her! But no! It was there, in his hand, right in front of her. She was so dazed, so ravaged by the agony, her brain was turning numb. It wasn’t until he wrenched her arms behind her and started to drive himself frenziedly into her that she realized he was sodomizing her.

  Beside her, on the floor, Annalise was trying to drag herself up. Through a haze of indescribable torture Corrie watched her. She could feel the blood trickling over her thighs and his face pressing hard into her neck. His free hand was trying to raise her as he sought an even deeper penetration.

  ‘No,’ she mumbled as Annalise’s eyes fixed on the knife in his outstretched hand. ‘Get help!’ Her words were pushed from her mouth by the wild hammering of his body. ‘Get help,’ she muttered again as Annalise hesitated.

  A moment or two later she heard the door open and close. Then suddenly Luke reared up, turned her onto her back and shoved her knees up to her shoulders.

  Corrie thought it was never going to end. She had never known such pain or degradation.

  Cristos was tearing along the autoroute, his hands clenched on the wheel, his face as taut and white as his knuckles. Beside him Phillip, who had caught up with him in the lift, was every bit as tense.

  ‘I hope to God you’re right,’ Phillip said, then sucked in his breath sharply as Cristos roared across the three lanes to take the Nice-Est exit.

  ‘So do I,’ Cristos muttered.

  He knew now why Geraldine Lassiter’s name had been bothering him. If he’d known her by that name then it would have come to him sooner, but Geraldine Duffel and her husband, Patrick, he did know. And so too did Luke, for it was at one of their parties, right here in the South of France, that Cristos and Luke had first met.

  That Fitzpatrick might be there now was a long shot, so long that Cristos was already losing hope. But if Fitzpatrick had kept up with Geraldine over the years then there was a chance she had given him free use of the villa on Cap Ferrat.

  ‘Do you remember where it is?’ Phillip asked some fifteen minutes later as Cristos spun the car off the main road and headed onto the Cap.

  ‘More or less,’ Cristos answered. ‘I’ll recognize it when I see it.’

  The sea spanned out to their right, acres of tree-studded gardens swept the sloping hillside to their left. Most of the villas weren’t visible from the road, but though Cristos slowed at each set of gates he was fairly certain that the one he w
as looking for was much closer to the apex of the Cap.

  At last they reached it, though Cristos thanked God for the name on the mail box, for he knew as he and Phillip got out of the car and stood in front of the vast iron gates that he’d never have recognized it. All they could see of the villa through the forest of trees was the highest windows – every one of them was shuttered and looked as though they’d not been opened for months.

  As a deluge of despondency and frustration surged through him, unseen by either him or Phillip, Annalise was wrenching open the front door.

  ‘It was worth a try,’ Phillip said, putting a hand on Cristos’s shoulder.

  ‘Yeah, I guess so,’ Cristos said, averting his head so that Phillip wouldn’t see the tears of defeat in his eyes. ‘But we gotta get in there. We gotta make sure.’

  ‘Of course,’ Phillip said. ‘Let’s go and see Radcliffe.’

  As they walked back to the car Annalise was dragging herself as fast as her injuries would allow across the lawn. She heard a car start and as her heart leapt with hope she pushed herself harder. The sheet she had draped around her caught on a branch. She let it go, floundering down through the undergrowth towards the gates. She had no idea who was in the car, but she could see it now and began to shout.

  To her horror it began to pull away.

  ‘No! Wait!’ she screamed, stumbling to her knees as her foot hit a root. ‘Wait! Please! Wait!’ she sobbed, clutching the tree to pull herself up.

  She reached the gates just in time to see Cristos’s car vanish around the bend. ‘No, no, no,’ she choked, falling against the gates as despair engulfed her. ‘Please God, no.’

  It was Corrie who came to pick up her crumpled, defeated body, just as the sun was setting. As she lifted Annalise gently to her feet her own body was still quaking from the trauma it had suffered. Luke stood over them, watching and blinking, the gun in his hand. In the bushes, tucked in behind the wall next to the gates, Corrie could see the front of the taxi. She looked away quickly, sickened by the swarm of hungry flies buzzing around it.

  When Luke took them back into the villa he put them in separate rooms. For a while as Corrie lay quietly on the bed, numbed by the shame of what had happened to her, she could hear Annalise next door mumbling incoherently as she talked to the rabbits he had locked in with her. Then she heard Luke enter the room and Annalise started to scream.