The Attic Room: A psychological thriller

by Linda Huber

  ‘Nina – I meant what I said about visiting you on Arran,’ he said. ‘I know you don’t want to think about what we could have together, but one day you might and till then I’ll be making a nuisance of myself. Be warned.’

  Nina laughed, and held out her glass. ‘I’m warned.’

  Sipping, she wandered through to check that Naomi was okay. Because… and the thought made her shiver all over again – Paul was still out there somewhere. They weren’t safe yet.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Friday 28th July

  To Nina’s relief Naomi slept right round the clock. She was sombre when she awoke on Friday morning, however, and Nina decided the best thing to do was to keep busy as well as give Naomi plenty of cuddles and opportunities to talk about what had happened if she wanted to.

  The other important thing was to get back to Arran asap. Nina wasn’t sure if Naomi had realised Paul was still at large, but hell, this wasn’t something she wanted to talk about till there were a few hundred miles separating them from Bedford. She sent Naomi to help Sam make breakfast while she booked flights for the next day before e-mailing their arrival time to Beth, grinning when a reply appeared within minutes. Beth must be doing the mails too, sitting at the kitchen table as she always did. And wow – just one more sleep here in sunny Bedford and then they’d be travelling north, her and her girl. Nina hugged herself.

  ‘Beth’s meeting us at Glasgow tomorrow,’ she said, sliding onto a high stool at Sam’s breakfast bar and reaching out to rub Naomi’s shoulder. ‘She’s taking the car, if she can get it booked on the ferry, to get us home as quick as she can.’

  Naomi’s face lit up. ‘Great. And then can I go riding on Monday? My wrist’s better now.’

  Nina’s heart contracted with love. ‘You certainly can. We’ll get the next trekking course organised for you too.’ She smiled at the girl, glorifying in the answering smile from Naomi. How great it was not to have to count the pennies any more. Naomi could even have her own pony... It was going to take a bit of getting used to, this having money.

  ‘So what are we doing today?’ asked Naomi, and Nina turned to Sam.

  ‘Should we pack up the last few things at the house first, then go and see Cassie and Glen?’ she suggested. ‘We’ll go to Emily on the way to the airport tomorrow.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll tell Mum to expect us for coffee this afternoon.’

  Nina phoned David Mallony for permission to break the seal on John Moore’s front door, and was told there was still no sign of Paul, but the police had traced the owners of the farmhouse on holiday in the Lake District.

  ‘We haven’t found anything to link them to the Moores or Wrights,’ he said. ‘I think the connection there must go back to the previous occupants, the people who had the place when Paul was a lad, and they’ve been dead for years. I’ll send an officer to meet you at John Moore’s house; he’ll watch the place while you’re inside. Until Wright’s found we have to be very careful.’

  ‘Thanks, David,’ said Nina. Thank God there would be a policeman with them at the house. The thought of going back was daunting.

  She rang off and gave the phone to Naomi to call her father, careful to keep her voice neutral. Alan’s reaction to Naomi’s abduction became more infuriating every time she thought about it. It wasn’t so much that he hadn’t come back to the UK, after all, South Africa was a long way away – but now that she’d been found, a few concerned phone calls from her father would have helped distract Naomi and reassure her that she was loved. But Alan seemed to have relegated both Naomi’s abduction and her own to a ‘getting lost in the supermarket’ level of importance. Sam was doing a much better job at providing her child with concerned fatherly support. And Nina wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

  John Moore’s house looked exactly the same as the very first time she’d laid eyes on it, and Nina glared at the ivy-clad walls with distaste. Definitely, this would be the last time she’d come here. After all that had come to light these past couple of weeks she had no wish to go inside even now, but there were still some things here she wanted. The blue vases from the bedroom, for instance. They’d been Claire’s, and spending the past twenty-five years with John Moore hadn’t made them less beautiful.

  The police officer broke the seal and stationed himself at the front door while they trooped inside. Naomi started to hunt round for her missing ipod, and Nina went into the living room. The air smelled musty; it was as though the house had been shut up for centuries and not a few days. And there was the sofa where Paul sat and told her a pack of lies – and she’d believed him.

  ‘Nina, stop it. Let’s find the stuff you want and get out of here,’ said Sam, rubbing her shoulder.

  Nina heaved a shaky sigh, staring at the big table, where two stray photos lay gathering dust. The rest were still with Emily. She would collect them when they visited tomorrow.

  ‘There’s nothing in here,’ she said. ‘I’ll have a quick look in the study and then pack the last odds and ends from the bedroom. Sam, could you maybe bring the big box of china down from the attic? There might be something nice there, like those vases.’

  He gave her a salute and bounded up the stairs two at a time. A shriek of triumph told Nina that Naomi had found her precious ipod, and she went into the study to see her daughter booting up Sam’s old laptop.

  ‘It was under the microwave. I’ll charge it up here now. And Mum, could we take that little desk home? It would look quite nice in my room.’

  Nina glanced at the secretaire, her lips twitching. So much for her own plans for it. And if Naomi was developing a taste for antique furniture it was just as well they’d inherited John Moore’s millions.

  ‘Sure,’ she said, going through to the kitchen. ‘Sam can organise to have it transported up to Arran.’

  Or if he kept his word and came to see them on the island, he could bring it himself, if he drove up. And talking of Sam, where was the man? He’d been up in the attic for ages, and there were no thumps and bumps telling of him shifting stuff around.

  Nina ran up to the first floor. The vases were still on the chest of drawers in the room she and Naomi had occupied, and she pulled a couple of towels from the airing cupboard to wrap them in.

  ‘Sam?’ she called. ‘We’re about finished here. I’m packing those vases; I’ll take them on the plane. Have you found the china?’

  No answer. Nina stood still. Silence from the attic; nothing was moving up there.

  ‘Sam?’

  Nina’s stomach cramped uncomfortably when once again, no reply came from above, and she dropped the vases on what had been Naomi’s bed. Something was wrong… Sam? She crept out to the landing. The attic door above her was cracked open, dim electric light shining round its edges like something from a horror film – but now she was being ridiculous.

  And yet…

  Nina stood at the bottom of the attic stairs, the hairs on the back of her neck rising and her breath catching painfully in her chest.

  Paul was up there. She could smell him. She would never forget that smell.

  The house remained silent. Ice-cold fear was pumping through Nina’s body with every beat of her heart. Oh no no… Naomi… She had to get Naomi out of this house, immediately, right this instant. It was Naomi Paul would be after; she was the one he’d wanted to help catch his paedos. Thank Christ there was a policeman at the door. And dear God in heaven – Sam, what had happened to Sam? But Naomi came first. Her heart breaking, Nina turned away from the attic. Be normal, Nina. Paul mustn’t know he’d been rumbled…

  ‘Get a move on, Sam – I’ll take this lot downstairs,’ she called, aware that her voice sounded nothing like her own but unable to do anything about it.

  Quick, quick, quick, downstairs and away, Nina – and thank heavens Naomi was down there on the laptop and not trailing round after her mother, looking for souvenirs. Down, down, as if everything was normal… She was in the study now, pulling Naomi from the desk, smothering
the child’s protest with one hand.

  ‘Shh! Paul’s upstairs. We have to get out of here, come on!’

  Naomi’s face turned pale and she followed Nina without a word. Nina eased the front door open, and they slid out and stood in an odd little huddle on the doorstep with the policeman on duty.

  ‘He must have knocked Sam out,’ whispered Nina, clutching Naomi to her side, sick horror making her legs shake. When was this going to end? Paul had a gun, until more police arrived they were in grave danger yet again. Why had he come back here, to the scene of his suffering as a child? He couldn’t have known they were coming today, hell, he must have chosen to hide out here. In the attic room. How completely macabre that was. Nina stood hugging Naomi while the constable radioed for reinforcements.

  ‘They’ll be with us in minutes,’ he said in a low voice. ‘The boss says try not to upset him, he might take it out on Sam Harrison. You two stay put – he won’t be able to shoot at you from the attic windows while you’re here under the eaves. I’ll go in and see what’s happened to Sam.’

  He slid inside, disappearing up the stairs, treading lightly.

  Nina craned her neck to see along the road. This would definitely count as an emergency; the police would be blue-lighting through town. The best thing would be to get hold of Paul by whatever means it took, and get him help. A psychiatric –

  With appalling suddenness a shot rang out upstairs, and two starlings screamed heavenwards from the garden next door. Nina and Naomi clutched each other again.

  ‘Was that a gun?’ Naomi’s face was pale.

  ‘Hell, yes.’ Nina’s breath caught in her throat. Who had Paul shot at? But it must be the policeman, if he’d been going to shoot Sam he’d have done it before now. Or – had they got into the kind of situation where a hostage – Sam – ends up getting killed… Dear God, what should she do… there was still no sign of the police. Nina made a spot decision.

  She handed Naomi her phone. ‘Call David Mallony, his number’s there. Tell him what’s going on. I’m going to see if Sam needs help.’

  Naomi grabbed her arm. ‘No! You can’t – he might shoot you too.’

  Nina cupped the child’s face. ‘Sweetie, I have to. He won’t shoot me. And we can’t just do nothing. So you get phoning – and stay right here, okay? Under the eaves where you’re safe.’

  Naomi nodded, her face rigid. ‘Are you sure he won’t shoot you?’

  ‘Positive. It’s you he wants, to, um, help him trap some other people. He won’t risk you running away. I won’t be long.’

  She turned back into the house and raced upstairs. Dear God let Sam be safe. Alive. She’d only just found him… And please let her get out of this safely too – she had a child who needed her. Maybe she should have stayed with Naomi. But imagine if Sam was hurt or even died because she hadn’t gone to help him – she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if that happened.

  There was no sign of the policeman on the upstairs landing and no sound from Paul. Nina climbed the attic stairs, her heart thumping. Her mouth was dry but steely determination filled her head as she stood on the little landing, staring at the attic door. It was slightly open, but all she could see was the stairs.

  ‘Paul, I know you’re up there. Where’s Sam? And the policeman? What happened?’ Good, she sounded in control.

  Footsteps approached down the stairs on the other side of the door. It swung a little further open, though there was still nothing to be seen of Sam or the young policeman.

  ‘Nina. They’re both up here, but they’re not saying much. We need to talk, Nina. I need to get those last two bastards.’

  Fear and adrenalin rushed through Nina and she swayed on her feet. Paul’s voice was high, cracking on almost every word; this time he really did sound mad. And Sam...

  A hand on the wall steadied her. ‘Paul. Of course we can talk. I want to get them every bit as much as you do.’

  And she did, didn’t she, even though he had lied about them abusing her as well. This was so hard – she was revolted by what he was doing, yet the state he was in today was due to her coming here and stirring things up. If she hadn’t done that, Paul would have finished his ‘research’ and handed his findings over to the police. Which would have been a much tidier end to the whole affair than the one they were seeing now. And the thought that her actions had caused her cousin to have such a king-sized breakdown was truly appalling.

  Utter stillness in the attic room. Oh God. What was he doing now?

  ‘Good, up you come. But remember I’ve got a gun, Nina. And nothing left to lose.’

  But she had everything to lose. Paul’s plan had gone horribly wrong, from his point of view, and she had no intention of confronting him. And where the shit were the police?

  ‘Actually, I think I’ll stay right here and talk. You don’t have to do this, Paul, the police will find those scumbags for you. How did you get in here, anyway? The place was sealed.’

  Was Sam alive? Nina’s world began to spin around in front of her eyes, and she crouched down till the dizziness passed. Paul was mad – was he a psychopath? Psychopaths could kill people without a second thought, couldn’t they? Look what he’d done to Sabine. But the important thing was to keep him talking until the police arrived.

  A thump shook the staircase as Paul sat down on the stairs on his side of the door. Leaning sideways, Nina could see one of his feet. He began to talk, his voice cracking and strained.

  ‘Well, Nina, the kitchen window opens if you just breathe on it from the right direction. And you must know why I have to do this. Maybe you didn’t harm me personally, but your father did. And mine. And all their horrible friends. I was raped and assaulted every weekend, Nina. Years it went on. Can you imagine what it did to me?’

  ‘I can’t imagine, Paul, but there are people who could help you. Doctors, therapists. You don’t need to go through this alone and you certainly don’t need to hurt me and my family like this.’ She wished the words back the minute they were said. The last thing she wanted was to antagonise him.

  Too late.

  ‘Me hurt you? That’s a joke. You know, Nina, before your Mam took you away, you came upstairs one day and found me crying after your Dad and one of his filthy friends had been having it off with me while my Dad took the photos. You started to cry too, because I was crying, and then your Mam came home and found us and God help me, I couldn’t tell her what had happened. I told her your Dad had hit us both. And paedophilia didn’t even cross her mind, she was so horrified that you, her precious baby, were hurt, but you hadn’t been hurt, Nina, it was me who’d been tortured and raped. And it was you who was taken away, your Mam saved you, Nina, but nobody saved me because my Mam was pissed out her mind on the sofa.’

  The anger had gone and his voice was thick with tears. Nina began to feel sick. What on earth could she say to him? Maybe he would never get over what he had gone through. What wickedness there was in the world. That’s what Emily had said, and it was true.

  A faint sound came from below as the front door opened and closed. The police, thank Christ. She had to keep talking now, keep Paul’s attention on the conversation. He mustn’t realise someone else was here.

  Nina opened her mouth, but before she could speak he started to howl, a nerve-shattering high moaning sound, like an animal in pain. The sounds of him scrambling to his feet and running round the attic came down the stairs, and then she heard breaking china, the thump of something heavy and solid hitting the floor, and a series of muffled thuds. Shit, shit, he was kicking something – hell – was he kicking Sam?

  Before she had time to think Nina was on her feet and running up to the attic room. If Sam was unconscious and being kicked… he could die here today, and she’d never get the chance to find out what they could have together.

  ‘Sam!’

  ‘Nina! Come down here!’ It was David’s voice, along with several pairs of heavy feet thudding up the stairs.

  Nina stared across the
attic. Sam was motionless on the middle of the floor, face down. The policeman was nearer, eyes closed and blood seeping into the floorboards from his left shoulder. Paul was crouched on the floor by the window, howling. Nina took a few steps into the room – and then she saw the gun in his hand. She froze.

  When he spoke his voice was like an old man’s, weak and shaking. ‘Nina, Nina. How stupid do you think I am? I know you’ve got police there. And you know what? I’m going to make sure they can never touch me.’

  Fear burned sour in Nina’s mouth. ‘Gunman goes on killing spree in Bedford attic.’ It might be tomorrow’s headline. And Naomi – Oh God, Naomi. How would she ever recover if Nina died here in a hail of bullets?

  ‘Paul, please. Let me help you.’

  He was crying, pitifully, like a child in pain, and she was crying too. A dim memory slid into Nina’s head and then came sharply into focus. It was the day he’d talked about, the day Claire found them crying.

  She was just a little kid, in her room, scared because Paul was up here in the attic, howling like he was now. She’d gone up to see why Paul was howling… She couldn’t open the door at first, but then she managed and she sneaked into this room and Paul was pulling his trousers up and running towards her, his face full of terror and disgust and loathing and pain… and she screamed and screamed and they fled from the attic and Paul slammed the door shut and he stood there and banged his head on the wooden T on the door, again and again, bang bang and she couldn’t stop him… then she screamed again and they stumbled back to her room together. Dear God, how could she have forgotten that?

  Shaking, Nina glanced behind her. David was there with two other officers, and they were all armed. David jerked his head towards the stairway, but Nina shook her head. She took a careful step towards Paul and he lifted his head and gazed at her. His eyes were dark, and she had seen that expression before, that day when he’d run across the attic towards her…