The Attic Room: A psychological thriller

by Linda Huber

  The sound of her own heavy breathing meant she didn’t hear the car behind her till it drew level. Nina jerked to a halt, dizzy with horror, gaping helplessly as Paul wound down the window; he was laughing, oh God how horrible. This was a hideous caricature of the gentle, shy man who had greeted her the first time on the doorstep of John Moore’s house. He leaned out the window and Nina moaned.

  ‘Race you to Naomi!’ he yelled gleefully, and gunned the car towards the roundabout.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Wednesday 26th July

  Horror chilling through her, Nina stood motionless as Paul’s car circumnavigated three-quarters of the roundabout and disappeared. Her feet felt as if they were stuck to the ground. It took a huge effort to wrench them free and run on. Naomi must still be at Cassie and Glen’s; I’m coming, baby, stay safe, Mummy’s on her way.

  Pain stabbing through her cramped leg muscles, Nina staggered towards the roundabout. No one at all was about, and shit, she needed help. Right now. But the buildings to her right looked like warehouses, and the one across the road was a derelict factory. For a second her feet faltered – should she go back and risk knocking on someone’s door? No – onwards was best; a car must come soon, she would flag it down. The thought of Paul speeding towards Naomi spurred her exhausted legs on.

  The first car to approach blared its horn and swerved round her when she jumped into the road and tried to wave it down. Bastards. They must have seen that she was in trouble. But of course in an area like this it was equally likely she was out to rob them. Another car was approaching and she waved even more frantically.

  The car stopped, and a dark male face glared out, a painful reminder that Sam must be worried sick.

  ‘Please. I need help. Can you phone the police for me?’ Her voice sounded ragged.

  The man in the car laughed scornfully. ‘Yeah, right,’ he said, and skidded off like Paul had.

  Nina swore. Time, time, she didn’t have it. Paul would soon be at Cassie’s, and God knows what he’d do when he got there. She had never felt so impotent. It was like one of those nightmares where you keep running and running and it’s so important that you arrive somewhere on time, but you can’t find the way…

  The third car stopped too, and Nina gasped in relief when she saw two women in the front. Panting, she repeated her plea. The woman in the passenger seat raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Police? Why?’ Her face was reluctant but not hostile, and Nina bent till she was level with the women.

  ‘My cousin’s driven off to get my little girl and I’m afraid he’ll hurt her.’ It was difficult not to scream at the women, but that would certainly frighten them off. ‘Please. Do you have children?’ she added, and the women glanced at each other.

  ‘Your cousin from round here?’ asked the driver, and Nina felt like shaking them both.

  ‘No, but he kept me in an empty house here overnight. I’ve just got out. Please, phone the police for me. My name’s Nina Moore. Please.’

  Again the women exchanged looks, and the driver gave a slight nod. Her companion reached into a bag at her feet and produced a mobile. Nina stood panting. Thank God. Help would soon be on its way. The woman pursed her lips at Nina before punching out 999.

  ‘I guess I need police. Crazy woman here called Nina Moore wants help. At the Leeway roundabout.’ She disconnected and dropped the phone back into her bag. ‘They’re comin’,’ she said, winding the window up again. ‘And we’re goin’.’

  The car jerked as the driver slammed the gearstick in and drove off. Nina sank to her knees on the dirty pavement. Oh God. She had no way to tell if the woman really had called the police. And even if she had, they still didn’t know to protect Naomi. Should she stop another car?

  But the next two cars didn’t stop and after that there was a lull. Nina trudged towards the roundabout. She had failed. Paul would have reached Cassie’s by this time. All she could hope was that Naomi would be asleep in bed. And she might be, she wasn’t an early riser. But then again, if Paul rang the bell and introduced himself, there was no reason for Cassie and Glen not to believe whatever he told them, even if they did know by this time that Nina was missing. After all, Naomi knew Paul. Worst case, Sam’s parents might even waken Naomi and bundle her into Paul’s car.

  Nina stood at the roundabout, dry sobs mixed with shivers shaking her body. She had never felt so out of control and so – beaten. Nobody stopped to help her; there were no good Samaritans at the Leeway roundabout this morning and dear God, she was so dead. What would Paul do with Naomi? He would be furious that Nina had escaped, Christ, it would be all too easy for a grown man who was mad and hurt and unhappy to take out his frustration on a small girl… Please God he won’t hurt Naomi… Nina buried her face in her hands. If the woman had called the police they should be here any second, surely. But it was another five minutes before she saw a blue light flashing in the distance, swooping up to stop beside her.

  ‘Christ, Nina.’ David Mallony was out of the passenger seat and helping her into the back before Nina could draw breath.

  ‘Paul. He’s gone to Cassie Harrison’s to get Naomi,’ she whispered, and David pulled out his radio.

  The car sped off, Nina slumped in the back seat. She had done all she could, but – would it be enough? Naomi was still in grave danger… David was here; she wasn’t alone any more – more than that, she was safe – but how unimportant that was beside what could be happening to her child. Nina sat shaking, taking noisy, painful breaths, unable to stop her teeth chattering.

  David clicked his radio off and turned to her. ‘They’re onto it. Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?’

  Nina shook her head. ‘Sabine?’ she whispered again. It was easier than talking.

  ‘Alive but unconscious. She has a serious head injury, but she’s stable,’ said David. ‘Nina, tell me everything.’

  In a few short sentences Nina covered the horror of the past several hours. Unfortunately she hadn’t noticed what make either of Paul’s cars were, all she could say was that the first was silver and possibly an Opel, and the second light green metallic. She described the house she’d been held in, then listened while David passed on the information over his radio. And all the time she was trembling so hard it was painful, and her breath was burning in her throat.

  Bedford town centre didn’t look as if anything untoward had ever happened there, and Nina gazed out at now-familiar streets, willing the car to drive faster. She felt as if an elastic band at breaking point was holding her gut together. Soon, soon she would know if Naomi was safe; this not knowing was the worst, the most terrible thing. She had tried so hard, but it might all have been too late.

  The minute the car stopped at the police station Nina scrambled out to see if there was any news. Sam was waiting outside the door, and he seized her and hugged her hard and God, how awful she looked and she stank too, she knew she did, of that terrible house and all the stress and sweat, but Sam was holding her as if he’d never let her go.

  ‘Naomi?’ she said into his chest. She felt his body tense up and pulled away to see his face.

  ‘Nina, we’ll find her,’ he said, but his voice was dull.

  Oh God. Darkness swirled. But she’d known really… Naomi… her baby. The elastic band broke and Nina retched painfully then swallowed burning saliva.

  David Mallony finished talking to another police officer, then strode across and gave her arm a little shake.

  ‘Nina, you have to hold it together. Wright’s got Naomi. She went out to the garden with the dog a short time ago, and when she didn’t come back Cassie Harrison went out to look, and found the dog but no Naomi. We have to assume that he has taken her. I need you to tell us every detail you remember about where you went, and what Wright said.’

  Nina stepped away from Sam and felt the world sway. Shit, she had to get a grip here. ‘Try her mobile. It’s 078432084.’ David nodded at another officer.

  Nina sat in a grey interview room, Sam
beside her holding her hand while she dredged up every detail of the past twelve hours. Someone brought her tea and toast, and she picked at it. She had to keep her strength up but Christ, how impossible it was to eat toast when her daughter had been taken by a madman. Naomi must be terrified. She would realise very quickly that Paul wasn’t normal and dear God in heaven why had nobody picked up on this long ago?

  A young officer appeared with the news that Naomi’s mobile was beside her bed at the Harrison’s, and the brief hope that she’d be easily traced was gone. Nina closed her eyes. Could nothing go right for them? Here she was, Naomi’s mother, and all she was doing to help was tell a couple of police officers about the state of the bloody lino in the kitchen she’d been held in. Fear for her child was eating its way through Nina’s gut, and she clutched her middle. Oh God. She was going to be sick soon.

  A police doctor, a woman, arrived halfway through her statement and insisted on dressing Nina’s wrists. Nina sat still, not heeding the sting of antiseptic and refusing to halt the question and answer session with the police officers. Any one of these questions could be the one that helped find Naomi. Before she was finished news came in that the police had found the house she’d been held in, but there was no sign of life there. Paul’s own flat in Newport Pagnell was deserted too. Nina shuddered. Paul, by his own admission, had spent the past year tracking down paedophiles. Not only that, he now wanted Naomi to ‘help’ him – he was going to put her photo on some ghastly website… Suppose he had taken Naomi to another place he thought wouldn’t be found? This place could easily be connected to one of the ‘kiddy-fuckers’ he’d been meting out his self-justice to.

  Saliva rushed back into Nina’s mouth and she swallowed it down to churn around in the tea and toast mess in her stomach. Never in all her life had she been so afraid; even breathing was painful. Suddenly she remembered something.

  ‘Paul spoke of a girlfriend. Melanie.’

  David nodded. ‘We’ll check that too. We’ll be searching his home.’

  Nina sat back. There was nothing left to tell them; nothing more that could help find Naomi. This was worse than any nightmare, a hundred times worse than the fear for her own safety was the previous day. Waves of numbness were alternating with waves of panic. This very minute her child could be tied to a kitchen chair somewhere, helpless and terrified. The mass in her stomach shifted and Nina ran for the toilets.

  Sam was waiting in the corridor to hug her after she’d been sick and dear God she needed someone to hold on to. Sobbing, Nina clung to his jacket.

  ‘I should never have left you,’ he said into her hair. ‘Nina, I wish I’d been there for you.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have stopped him,’ said Nina, hearing the dreariness in her own voice. ‘Paul wants revenge and he wants money, and me coming here and involving the police stopped him getting both and it’s made him mad, Sam. Why the hell didn’t I notice sooner? I was so caught up in this bloody finding-family thing that I wasn’t thinking straight, it was all cousins together, and I wanted a cousin, I wanted a family, and shit, why didn’t I notice?’

  Sam led her back to the interview room. ‘He was clever. He said all the right things.’

  Nina sat down again. The police officers had gone, and there was another cup of tea waiting for her. She pushed it away. ‘Do you think he’ll let me buy her back?’

  She rocked back and forward on the police station chair, and Sam rubbed her back without speaking. Nina was grateful for his silence. There was no reassurance anyone could give her right this minute.

  David Mallony came back in and leaned on the table. ‘We’re going to drive around with you, see if we can find where you changed cars,’ he said. ‘Paul may have a base of some kind nearby.’

  Nina, David, Sam and a policewoman drove around for over an hour before Nina admitted defeat. They found the district where she and Paul left the first car, but she couldn’t remember enough to pinpoint the correct street. They were all so alike, with their identical council terraces and scrappy front gardens. She’d been absorbed in Paul at that point; she hadn’t been watching where they were going. There was no sign of the car, either; Paul must have moved it.

  ‘Okay – at least we’ve got the area,’ said David eventually. ‘We’ll get a house-to-house inquiry going. Someone may have seen Paul. You should rest, Nina. You’re exhausted.’

  David drove them back to John Moore’s house, where the first thing Nina did was have a boiling hot shower. Not that she cared how she looked or smelled, but all that was keeping her going now was the thought that any minute, Naomi might be found. Which meant she had to be ready to go at a moment’s notice to help her child. She emerged from the bathroom to find Sam packing her things into her case and two plastic bags.

  ‘You’re not staying here another minute,’ he said.

  All she wanted was to leave this house forever, but – ‘What if he comes back here? What if he phones?’ she whispered.

  ‘He won’t, he knows the landline’s bugged. And it’s up to the police to watch the place. They’re going to seal it, anyway. Come back to my flat, Nina. Or Mum and Dad’s.’

  The memory of Naomi happily preparing to paint Glen Harrison’s fence flashed into Nina’s mind and her legs turned to jelly. She fell to her knees, head bent to the floor, sobs shaking her body. Sam knelt by her side, patting her back but not attempting to stop the tears.

  ‘Nina, there are dozens of police officers out searching,’ he said. ‘Don’t give up, they must find her.’

  Sniffing, Nina allowed him to help her to her feet. How very much she wanted to believe what he had said. But how often did you read about little girls being taken and then found later in ditches, raped, bleeding, dead. And Paul would be angry about what had happened, he’d be looking for revenge not only on his own abusers now, but also on her. On the other hand, he knew from his own experience what sexual abuse did to a child. So he wouldn’t allow the same thing to happen to Naomi, would he? He was a victim – but then weren’t paedophiles often victims first, and then lost themselves in a never-ending vicious circle, repeating the abuse they’d been subjected to?

  The numbness was returning, replacing pain with blessed nothingness, though Nina knew if suffering would bring her girl back, she would take it all. She grasped the handle of her suitcase. ‘Let’s go to yours. And I should phone Beth. And Naomi’s Dad. But first I want to call David; there might be more news.’

  Unlikely, in the forty-five minutes since she’d seen him last, or he’d have phoned and told them. But David was all the contact she had to Naomi at the moment, and oh, what a frail thread of contact it was.

  Sam handed over his mobile, and she called David on the way to Sam’s flat.

  ‘Nothing yet. We’ve got dogs out in the areas you were taken to,’ he told her. ‘Mrs Harrison gave us Naomi’s nightgown for the scent. Rest up for the moment, Nina. I’ll call you back in an hour or so.’

  Sam’s flat was comfortable and modern, an enormous blue L-shaped sofa dominating the living room, and crammed bookshelves round two walls. Nina sank into the sofa, dread weighing her into the cushions. Thoughts of Naomi were circling round her head in a quite unbearable spiral; but she had to bear it because, oh fuck – she had caused it. She had caused whatever was happening to her child today.

  Why the hell had none of Paul’s teachers or social workers seen that he wasn’t normal? The abuse he’d suffered as a child must have unhinged him, but no one had helped him, and heaven knows how long he’d been like this. Nina shivered. She must have been affected too, how afraid she would have been, a poor little wide-eyed three-year-old who didn’t understand what was happening to her. Incredible to think she’d managed to block out something as momentous as sexual abuse. She had no memories of it – how had she been abused, and how often, and by how many people?

  A lump rose in Nina’s throat. Claire had told Morag that John Moore had been ‘hitting them both around’. Had Claire known about the sexual abuse
and simply not told Morag? It didn’t sound like Claire, and she and Morag were such good friends. So either Claire knew nothing or… the thought was like a sudden breeze of fresh air…

  …or little Nina hadn’t been abused. Was that possible?

  Fighting the weakness that was still threatening to overcome her, Nina thought about her three-year-old self. According to what she knew, she’d been a talkative, confiding child. Wouldn’t she have spoken about it to Claire, or Lily, if anything bad had happened to her? And as paedophiles normally abused either boys or girls, but not both, it was actually unlikely that both she and Paul were victims of any one group of abusers.

  The one thing Nina was sure of was that Paul had been abused. He couldn’t have lied about that so convincingly. She’d seen all the way into his soul, that night he told her about it. So if Paul had lied about her being abused, he’d done it to scare her away and leave him in peace to continue his revenge scheme. The blackmail letters and the calls hadn’t worked, so he’d notched up the horror-programme for her.

  Nina sobbed aloud. There was no way to know, but surely, surely, Claire would have intervened if she’d known that Paul was being abused?

  Sam appeared from the kitchen with a glass of orange juice and a sliced banana on a plate.

  ‘Eat,’ he said briefly. ‘I’ll phone Mum and tell her you’re here.’

  He left her alone, and Nina managed two pieces of banana and a sip of juice before pushing the plate away. Was Sam on his landline? She wanted to phone Bethany.

  He came back and gave her the handset almost as if he had heard her thought.

  ‘Mum’s coming up later,’ he said. ‘She’s in a bit of a state; she feels it’s her fault.’

  ‘It’s not,’ said Nina, her voice thick. ‘He would have got Naomi even if she hadn’t been outside. I’m sure he had plenty of tricks ready. Look how he got me into his car – false bombs and everything. He was so convincing, Sam – it’s my fault, not Cassie’s.’