A Girl to Die For: A Thriller

by Lucy Wild

  TWELVE

  HE LEAPT FORWARDS. SOMEHOW she was able to turn her body to one side so he overbalanced, his forwards momentum propelling him onto the rug. He skidded, tripping over his ankle as she leaned back against the wall, watching as he fell forwards. His head hit the wall an inch from Fiona’s door, slamming into it with a thud that made her wince.

  He slumped downwards, falling still, flat on his front.

  For a long time, she couldn’t move. At first due to the still lingering panic racing through her and then because she became strangely certain it was a trick. If she got any closer, he’d leap up and grab her, drag her into her room. She shivered, aware of the cold on her naked skin for the first time. Her heart was still pounding, her throat dry, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she stared at him, not even daring to blink. But he still hadn’t moved. There was a dent in the wall where his head had struck it.

  How many times had she tripped over that rug? How many times had she asked Fiona to get rid of it? Donate it to charity? But if it wasn’t for that, she dreaded to think what he might have done to her. What if Fiona didn’t come back at all? What if she stayed the night with her date? She could have been dead for hours by then. That was how these things happened. She’d have been one more news story. She’d never get to see her sister’s wedding, never get to see her niece. All of a sudden she was crying, deep wracking sobs that shook her entire body, starting from nowhere, her hands shaking as she slumped down to the floor, looking at the unmoving form of her date.

  He might have killed her. He still might. That thought crept in through her tears and slowly brought them to a halt. Sniffing loudly, she looked across the landing. He might wake up. How long would it take the police to get there? There, look. His arm. Moving already.

  He groaned deeply, a gurgling sound that faded away as he fell still once more. She ran to her room, grabbing her phone and punching in three nines.

  “Emergency, which service do you require?”

  “I…” she began, pausing as she realised she didn’t know. Police? Ambulance? Both? “There’s a man, he broke in. I think he’s hurt. Please, send someone.”

  “Connecting, hold on.” There was a couple of clicks and then the line came back to live.

  “Police,” a new voice said. “What is the nature of your emergency?”

  “A man,” she said, feeling the tears start to build again. She had to keep them under control. She couldn’t lose it, not yet. “A man broke in. He…he tried to rape me.”

  “Okay, keep calm. Where are you?”

  “I’m at home.” She heard another groan coming from the landing, this one louder. Slowly, not wanting to, she walked over to the bedroom door and peered out. His arm had moved again. He wasn’t going to be out for much longer.

  “Where is home?”

  She didn’t hear the question, too busy trying to keep her bowels from opening as she watched him trying to turn over.

  “Are you there, miss?”

  “Yeah, I’m here,” she said, lowering her voice.

  “Where do you live? Where are you?”

  “Seventeen Milburn Street.”

  “And where’s that?”

  “In York. Please come quickly.”

  “We’ve a car on the way now. You said a man broke in and assaulted you? Where is he now? Do you know?”

  “He…he fell.”

  She hung up as Joseph groaned again, his leg raising and lowering to the ground. Time was running out. She ran out onto the landing, hoping she was strong enough. With a deep breath, she leaned down and grabbed his ankle, dragging him along the landing, moving him on willpower alone. The muscles in her arms strained as she tugged him, the rug underneath him helping his body to slide across the polished wood.

  “Wh…” he muttered, twisting his head slightly, blinking as he did so, not focussing on her yet.

  Quickly, she told herself as his arm turned, his fingers stretching out towards her. As she crossed the landing he began to sit up, still blinking, rubbing his eyes and groaning again. “What are you doing?” he asked, getting slowly to his feet, his legs unsteady as Holly moved around him.

  She took another deep breath. Do it now, she thought, before he realises. Biting her bottom lip so hard, it bled, she shoved him in the small of the back. He teetered at once, leaning alarmingly towards the stairs. It wasn’t enough, he was going to regain his balance. It wasn’t enough.

  But then he passed his centre of gravity, his arms beginning to flail as he fell forwards through the air, realising too late what was happening. He vanished from sight as he thudded down the stairs, the bizarre sight of his feet the last thing Holly saw before she heard the thud of him slamming into the wall at the bottom of the steps, where the last three treads twisted into the hallway. She walked forwards, wincing as she saw his body bent awkwardly around the corner, his head still. This time he didn’t move.

  Holly sat down on the top step, all her strength gone. She’d used every last ounce in dragging him across the landing and she felt incredibly tired. She looked down at him for a long time, her head in her hands until the sight of flickering lights made her look up. Through the living room window, red and blue lights were flashing and she began to cry again. She was safe. It was over. He’d never hurt anyone again.

  THIRTEEN

  AN AMBULANCE ARRIVED SHORTLY after the first police car. Holly sat on the sofa with an ignored mug of tea on the coffee table in front of her. A detective sat on Fiona’s chair. Another was standing in the hallway, watching the paramedics working on Joseph. He went outside when they did, watching them carry the body out on a stretcher. She heard his question as he went. “Any hope?” and the paramedic’s reply, “Think this one’s going to be DOA.”

  Holly’s tea grew colder. She stared at the far wall, a looped video playing over and over again in her head. Joseph tearing her pyjama top open, the buttons scattering. Then his arms as they spun in circles, trying to stop him from falling down the stairs. Buttons. Stairs. Buttons. Scatter. The sound of them landing all over the bedroom. They’d be up there. She’d need to find them. Arms spinning. Buttons. Arms.

  The detective flicked back to the first page of his notes. “I think I’ve got everything for now,” he said, his voice penetrating the looping video from a great distance. Holly looked up at him, surprised to see him still there.

  “Is he dead?” she asked.

  “They need confirmation but between me and you I don’t think he’s coming back. Strictly off the record of course.”

  Holly’s bottom lip stung from where she’d bitten it. She sat wrapped up in her dressing gown, given to her by the constable who’d first walked in. She’d still been sat on the top step, naked, shivering, her skin covered in goosebumps. Two of them had come in. The woman had come upstairs, stepping over the body, leaving her colleague downstairs while she stood on the step below Holly. “Are you all right?” she asked, clicking her fingers to try and get Holly’s attention as she continued to stare into space.

  She hadn’t answered. The constable had gone past her into her room, bringing the dressing gown back out with her and wrapping it around Holly’s shoulders. “Here,” she said, passing her a tissue from a packet in her trouser pocket. “Come and sit downstairs.”

  Holly had to step over Joseph, wincing as she did so, expecting him to reach up and grab her at any moment. The officer stayed with her until the two detectives arrived a minute later. One of them came to her, the other joined the constables in the hallway, talking quietly to them both before dismissing them.

  “If I can just run over it one more time,” the detective said as more people walked into the hallway from outside. “You met online, is that right?”

  “Match Up,” Holly said, wondering who they were. “It was on Match Up.”

  “And your profile name is Spongebob lover.”

  Holly nodded, too tired to feel embarrassed. “What’s going on out there?”

  “Forensic’s just having a
look.”

  “What for?”

  “Anything relevant that might corroborate or contradict your story. Anything you want to tell me before they get started?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

  “I’m not suggesting you have. We just have to follow all the correct procedures. Now, the date you went on. He took you to a derelict house where he threatened you in an attempt to coerce you into sex.”

  Holly nodded again.

  “You were driven home by him, feigning illness. You blocked his phone number and then around midnight, he broke in and assaulted you. There was a struggle and during that struggle he fell down the stairs.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “Of course it was. And if he’s the guy we’ve been looking for then it was an accident that did the world a favour.”

  “Sorry, what?”

  “There’s been someone targeting online daters, did you not read about it in the papers? They’re calling him the Matchmaker.”

  “I guess I must have missed that one.”

  “Well, I get the feeling we might have closed that case with this accident. Now I have to ask, how far did his attempt to assault you go?”

  “He stripped me.”

  “I can wait until a female colleague is available to ask the next question if you prefer?”

  “I’m fine. What do you need to know?”

  “Did he penetrate you in any way?”

  “No, nothing like that. I ran before he had chance.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Good?”

  “It means you don’t need to have a physical. Now, have you got anyone who can look after you tonight? We can’t leave you here alone.”

  “My housemate. She’s on her way back from Scarborough. She shouldn’t be much longer.”

  “How long?”

  “About ten minutes according to her last message.”

  “Well, we’ll stay until she arrives, make sure you’re okay.”

  The other detective stuck his head in from the hallway. “Done out here, boss. Looks like he came in the kitchen window, it was hanging open.”

  “Locked it?”

  “Will do.”

  “Forensics?”

  “Already outside.”

  “I’ll be out in a minute.” He turned back to Holly. “I’ll stay until your housemate gets back.”

  “I’ll be fine. Please, I just want to get some rest. You don’t have to worry..”

  It took a few minutes but she was finally able to persuade him to leave. He stood on the doorstep, still looking reticent about leaving her alone. “I’ll be all right,” she said, forcing a smile onto her lips, a cramp hitting her stomach. She felt like she was going to be sick any moment. “Fiona’ll be home soon.”

  “I’ll check on you personally tomorrow,” he said, pointing a finger at her. “Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  He nodded, satisfied at last. Another cramp hit Holly as he walked away and she had to run to the bathroom, sinking to her knees by the toilet and throwing up until her throat burned and her stomach hurt. The cramps continued long after she leaned against the wall with her eyes closed. She groped for the flush with her eyes closed, hitting it firmly, the sound of the water draining loud but not loud enough to drown out the video that began looping again in her head. Buttons. Arms. Buttons. Arms. In the background, the echoing question, did he penetrate you?

  Getting slowly to her feet ten minutes later, she made her way through the kitchen, stopping to look at the photo on the fridge. “I’m sorry,” she said out loud to her family. “I’m so sorry.” She ran her finger over the picture, touching each of her family members in turn. Then with fresh tears forming on her cheeks she went through to the living room. She couldn’t bring herself to go upstairs. The rug would be rucked up and it would need straightening. Her bed would be a mess, her pyjama trousers on the floor, the buttons scattered across the carpet.

  Lying on her side on the sofa, she curled her legs up under her, closing her eyes and trying anything to make the video stop. You had to do it, she told herself.

  The detective had warned her she might need to give a more formal statement. She could understand why. They might suspect she’d killed him. No, if they had, they wouldn’t have left her at home. She’d seen enough crime shows to know what would have happened. Her nails would have been scraped for DNA, she’d have been interviewed at the station. They didn’t suspect her. It would be all right.

  That might have been true but it didn’t stop the waves of guilt washing over her. He was dead. She had pushed him. Buttons. Arms. Buttons. Arms.

  She was still awake when Fiona arrived the next day. She hadn’t messaged her. She hadn’t wanted to ruin her date. She’d only told the detective that to make him leave. What was his name? He’d told her when he first arrived but it had gone from her mind. The only thing in her mind were buttons and arms. When the front door opened, she shot up, not sure at first where she was. Then it came back to her.

  She must have slept, not much sleep though, enough to make her headachy and groggy as she bolted upright, somehow sure it was him, he’d come back for her.

  When Fiona appeared in the doorway, Holly didn’t say a thing, she just burst into tears once more, unable to even start telling her housemate what had happened. Fiona sat next to her, holding her, waiting.

  FOURTEEN

  THE NEXT DAY, HOLLY woke up just before two in the afternoon. She was in Fiona’s room, taking a second to work out the change of location. For a brief second, she felt fine and then the reason why she was there came back and the familiar heavy dread returned with it. She sat up slowly, another headache already building behind her eyes.

  Fiona had sat up with her until four in the morning, listening to her story with increasing horror. Once it was done, Fi was silent, just holding onto her and not saying anything for a long time. “Let’s put you to bed,” she said at last, holding Holly’s hand and leading her upstairs. “In my room tonight. You bunk with me as Lurleen Lumpkin would say.”

  Holly closed her eyes, not wanting to look at the rug. She didn’t open them again until Fiona’s bedroom door was closed. “Get in,” Fiona said, pointing at the bed.

  She was as easy to manoeuvre as a doll, climbing in when she was told, lying on her side, listening to Fiona undress. She was certain she wouldn’t sleep at all but she must have done eventually, though she had no idea when. All she could think about was buttons and arms, again and again. She thought she might never think of anything else again.

  When she woke up, she wondered where Fiona was, then she heard her downstairs, the noise of crockery rattling in the kitchen. She was washing up.

  Holly was still wrapped up in her dressing gown. She climbed out of Fiona’s bed and walked across to the door which was half open. She stepped out onto the landing, treating it like tearing off a plaster, do it at once, don’t drag it out.

  The rug was still there, back in place. Fiona must have realigned it. She stepped around it, pushing open the door to her room and looking in, trying not to hyperventilate.

  It was like he was still there, or that he was about to come back. She didn’t feel safe even just looking in. Taking a deep breath as if she was plunging under a pool of water, she held it as she darted across to the chest of drawers by the window. Don’t look at the pyjamas. Don’t look at the bed. She grabbed the first things she found, carrying them out onto the landing and only taking a breath when she was on the top of the stairs. She gasped for air, feeling suddenly dizzy. Then she shucked off the dressing gown and stepped into the shorts and tee-shirt, wrapping the gown back around her before heading downstairs.

  Fiona was sitting her chair, looking pale. “I need to tell you something,” she said as Holly walked in. “Can I tell you something?”

  “What?” Holly asked, sitting on the sofa, curling her legs under her. “What’s the matter?”

  Fiona looked at her, leani
ng forwards as she did so, her eyes widening. “It’s all my fault.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Holly asked with a growing sense of dread. Why did Fiona look so upset?

  “Oh, God, where do I start? I…I hooked you up with Joseph.”

  “No, you didn’t-”

  “I did,” Fiona interrupted. “I matched him six months ago and I’m not even sure how to say this. I asked him to date you.”

  “You did what?”

  “Look, it didn’t work out between us and I hated seeing you so unhappy about no one wanting to date you so I gave him a ring and asked him to match up with you.”

  “You…asked him to date me?”

  “I’m sorry, Hols. I didn’t know he’d turn out to be like that. I’m so sorry.”

  Holly didn’t know what to say. Her mind couldn’t take it. She leaned back on the sofa and sighed loudly, rubbing her eyes as she did so.

  “Say something,” Fiona pleaded. “Say anything. Hit me or something. I deserve it.”

  “I’m not going to hit you.”

  “I thought I was doing you a favour. I was the one who wrote that you liked being tied down, I told him you liked submitting, that you were quite shy. I thought it would help, have him tell you what to do. He was supposed to roleplay with you, make you think you were being forced. I told him to tell you if it went too far, not to hurt you. I didn’t know he’d take it so seriously.” She took a breath before continuing. “I was going to keep it to myself but I can’t. I’m so sorry, Hols. If I’d known, I’d never have set it up. It’s all my fault.”

  Holly closed her eyes, the headache making her temple throb. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, her voice sounding like it was coming from very far away. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  The two of them were silent for a long time before Holly got to her feet. “I’m going back to bed.”