by Val Collins
FIFTY-EIGHT
There was a long silence. Aoife was afraid to speak but she had to keep Jack talking. The longer they spoke, the longer her car was parked outside his house.
‘What are you going to do to Orla?’
‘Who knows? Quite a lot if you hadn’t interrupted. I had everything ready. I’d changed into these’—he pointed at his sweats—‘so the blood wouldn’t stain. All I had to do was cover the ground in plastic and then the fun would have begun. But you had to ruin that for me, didn’t you? Now it will have to be a rush job like the last one.’ He scowled. ‘It could have been up to a week before the police took the disappearance of a girl like that seriously, but a young mother—I’ll need to have both of you out of here by tomorrow morning.’
Aoife took a deep breath and tried to remember an article she’d read on controlling panic attacks. She had to keep her wits about her. By now Moaney would have the police looking for her. Her job was to keep Jack in this room as long as possible. ‘Where is Orla now?’
‘Here.’
‘Can I see her?’
‘The drugs won’t wear off for a while yet. She’s one hell of a bitch, that one, scratching and biting like a wild animal. That must be how her phone ended up under the couch. I looked for it, but I didn’t think there was any rush. As soon as I’d finished with her, I would have searched every inch of the house. I wasn’t going to repeat the mistake I made with Triona.’
Was there any way to get through to this monster?
‘Do you care about Maura?’
‘I feel sorry for her, but I don’t really know her.’
‘You feel guilty for killing her husband?’
‘Of course.’
‘So why would you kill her daughter-in-law?’
‘I told you, Aoife. I don’t want to kill you, but I have no choice. It’s fate. Yours and mine.’
‘It’s not my fate. You can let me out of here right now.’
‘You expect me to believe you wouldn’t say anything to the police?’
‘Not if you let Orla free as well.’
‘I’m not sure I could do that even if I believed you. Aoife, I know you’re scared, but I promise I’ll make it really quick. You don’t have to be afraid. I’ve had lots of practice. I can kill without inflicting any pain at all.’
‘Am I supposed to be grateful for that?’
‘Believe me, if you knew what I have planned for Orla, you’d be very grateful indeed.’
*
Aoife wrapped her arms around her body to stop the shivering. Men like Jack got a kick from terrifying women, and she was damned if she’d provide him with the slightest bit of pleasure.
‘And what about my daughter? Are you going to give her money every month as well? Blood money for killing her mother?’
‘I’ll make sure she’s okay.’
‘You stay away from her!’
‘I always stay away from girls. Hadn’t you noticed? Besides, I’ll probably be dead by the time your daughter reaches eighteen. I definitely won’t have the strength to kill any more. Hopefully I’ll have lost all the desire as well. Physical desires tend to fade with age.’
‘Promise me Orla won’t suffer.’
‘Orla isn’t any of your concern.’
‘Of course she’s my concern. We’ve been friends since we were four.’
‘That bitch has to pay for what she did to Tadhg and for making me kill him.’
‘Killing Tadhg was your choice. Nobody else’s.’
‘That’s not true. I would never have chosen to kill him.’
‘You did choose to kill him. Just like you chose to kill Danny and you’re choosing to kill me.’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘I’m right and you know it.’
Towering over her, Jack’s face was so red Aoife felt her heart pound. Jack was old, overweight and under a lot of pressure. If she could rile him a bit more, he might have a stroke or a heart attack.
‘Your mother must be so proud.’
Jack’s face turned purple, then he took a deep breath, leaned back in the chair and smiled. ‘You’re brighter than I gave you credit for, Aoife. You’re trying to make me lose control. Believe me, that’s not going to happen. I’ve been controlling myself around women since I was fifteen. I can last a few more hours.’
‘Was your mother a bitch? Is that why you need to kill women?’
‘Be quiet, Aoife. That kind of talk is beneath you.’
‘So she was a bitch?’
‘She was a good woman who had a very hard life. I won’t let you rile me, and I won’t let you speak like that about my mother. I’d rather you didn’t die in this house, but I’ll kill you right now if I have to.’
*
They sat in silence for what felt like hours. Jack chain-smoked the entire time.
Aoife coughed. ‘Do you have to smoke on top of me?’
Instead of answering, Jack shoved his chair a few inches back and puffed away. Shouldn’t the police be here by now? What was keeping them?
Jack checked his watch. Any minute now he’d decide it was dark enough to move her car.
‘Jack, I need to go to the bathroom.’
‘You can’t.’
‘You want me to make a mess here?’
‘I don’t really care. There will be one hell of a mess to clean up tonight either way.’
‘You’ll have to sit here with it for hours. Won’t that spoil your fun?’
Jack hesitated. ‘Alright.’ He walked to the end of the room. Aoife could see his silhouette open a drawer and remove something. Returning with a long knife that made her shudder, Jack switched off the penlight and put it in his pocket. He flicked on Tadhg’s lighter and placed it upright on the ground. Now both his hands were free, Jack cut the tape binding her legs with one quick swipe. Aoife watched him put the knife on the ground and kick it out of her reach. She flexed her legs, trying to get the blood circulating properly. While Jack was freeing her, she’d kick him in the groin or the head, whichever was closer. While he was down, she’d get the knife. She was tensing her muscles, ready to strike, when Jack yanked her feet into the air and she found herself suspended several inches above the seat of the chair. The only thing anchoring her to the chair was her bound arms. Her head flew backwards and the chair tilted dangerously. Jack steadied it with his foot.
‘What the hell are you doing?’
‘Quiet.’
Using his arm to anchor Aoife’s legs against his body, Jack quickly bound her legs with the duct tape. He let her feet drop, but he moved behind her before they hit the ground. Aoife shifted herself into a sitting position. The next time Jack came close, she’d be ready to attack. Jack put one arm around Aoife’s neck and used the other to release her hands. Tightening the pressure on her neck, he said, ‘Raise your hands in the air.’
FIFTY-NINE
Aoife tried to pull Jack’s arms from her neck, but his grip tightened. ‘Put your hands in the air, now.’
Aoife raised both hands.
‘Put them together as if you were praying.’
When her hands were in place, Jack grabbed them with one hand. Pushing them behind her head so she was again unbalanced on the chair, he released her neck and quickly bound both hands with the duct tape. He picked up the knife, flicked off the lighter, took out his penlight and said. ‘Let’s go.’
Aoife spluttered, ‘How?’
‘Hop.’
Jack kept a tight grip on her arm as Aoife hopped to the door. He unlocked it and she hopped into the corridor. Although the light was now fading, it still took Aoife’s eyes a moment to adjust.
The bathroom door was open.
‘Are you planning to watch? Is that how you get your kicks?’
‘I can’t let you in there alone.’
‘Really? Why? Because I’d climb out that tiny window? Oh no, let me guess, it’s fate. Fate has decreed that although murderers on death row get a final meal, I can’t even go the bathroom wi
thout an audience. Great excuse.’
‘Aoife, I’m really beginning to dislike you.’
‘I’m sorry, Jack. Am I not behaving properly? Is this not the correct ladylike way to speak to a murderer?’
Jack shoved her into the bathroom and looked around. He checked the window was locked, picked up a few bottles and the razor she had been eyeing. ‘You’ve got two minutes, then I’m coming in.’
‘Aren’t you going to untie my hands?’
‘No.’
‘How am I supposed to manage?’
‘I don’t care. Two minutes.’
He closed the door behind him. Aoife did a circle of the bathroom. All that remained was a clothes basket and soap. She flung the towel into the clothes basket.
When Jack opened the door, she was standing at the sink, her hands dripping.
‘I want a towel.’
‘What did you do with the one that was there?’
‘There wasn’t any towel.’
Jack frowned. ‘Hold up your hands.’
He ran his hands over her body. ‘I don’t know what you think you’re going to achieve by hiding my towel. Come on. Out.’
‘I want a clean towel.’
‘You’ve caused enough trouble for one day.’ Jack grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the room.
‘My hands are wet.’
‘They’ll dry. Be quiet.’
He pushed her into the dark room again and switched on the penlight.
She would be prepared this time. When he pulled her legs, she’d get in at least one good kick.
SIXTY
Jack flicked on the lighter again. He dropped the knife on the ground, kicked it out of Aoife’s reach and pushed her down on the chair. Standing behind her, he used the last of the duct tape to bind her to the chair by the waist. He switched off the lighter and got out the penlight. Going to the desk at the end of the room again, he returned with two long strips of material, which he wrapped around the leg of the chair and tied in a knot just above Aoife’s knees. Her legs were now bound to the seat of the chair. Jack took a few steps back and looked at her.
‘It’s not great, but it will do until I get back. I hadn’t planned on tying up two people at the same time.’
‘You told me I could see Orla.’
‘You will.’
He left the room without locking the door. Aoife waited to hear the front door shut. A few minutes later, Jack’s footsteps came up the stairs again. He was holding another strip of cloth in one hand. She couldn’t make out what he held in his fist. ‘Open your mouth.’ Aoife kept her mouth clamped shut. Jack pinched her nose. Aoife opened her mouth but kept her teeth clenched. Jack took Tadhg’s lighter from his pocket. The flame was so strong she felt her cheeks redden. Huh! Did he think she was an idiot? There was no way Jack would set her on fire. He’d burn the house down.
He moved the lighter close to her eyes. ‘Open your mouth or I’ll burn your face.’
Aoife shook her head.
‘Don’t be stupid. I promised you wouldn’t have a painful death, and although I’m beginning to regret that promise, I’ll keep it if you don’t fight me. But if you insist, I will certainly burn your face off first.’
*
Aoife opened her mouth. Jack put the lighter on the ground again. Stretching Aoife’s mouth open with both his hands, Jack shoved a stress ball into the opening. It was too large to fit into her mouth completely and about a quarter of it jutted out. Jack took the strip of cloth and bound it tightly around her mouth.
‘Ugh!’
‘Quiet!’
Jack flicked off the lighter, switched on the penlight and did a circle of the chair, checking her bindings. ‘It will have to do,’ he muttered. He gathered up his equipment. At the door he said, ‘I told you, I always keep my promises. You can see Orla now.’
What was that supposed to mean? Aoife struggled against her bonds. Jack laughed.
‘Don’t waste your energy.’
He shut the door and the room plunged into darkness. The key turned. A few minutes later Aoife heard the front door close.
Okay, this wasn’t the time to think about Orla. Her car would no longer be outside Jack’s house, so she couldn’t count on the police rescuing her. She was on her own. She had to concentrate on getting free. At least she could breathe, but the stress ball left a disgusting taste in her mouth and the cloth was bound so tightly around her mouth that she couldn’t spit it out. She tried to speak. ‘Ugh! Ugh!’ was the best she could manage. Shouting for help was out of the question, obviously. In any case, Jack’s was an end house. He had no neighbours on one side, and the house on the other side appeared to be deserted.
Aoife had tightened every muscle while Jack tied her up. She’d read somewhere that this would create a little bit of give when her muscles were relaxed. She’d also spent most of her time in the bathroom with her hands in a basin of hot water. Surely it had done something to loosen the adhesive? If she could get her hands free, she’d have a good chance of escaping. Aoife was twisting her wrists back and forth, trying to weaken the tape, when she heard a muffled sound.
Orla?
‘Ugh.’ The sound was louder.
‘Ugh,’ Aoife replied. She tilted the chair backwards and let the two front legs crash down on the ground to let Orla know she could hear her. The sound was dulled by the carpet. Aoife remembered movies where people tilted their chair backwards, fell on the ground and the chair splintered into pieces. Should she try that? No. The chair felt sturdy. It wouldn’t break and she might hurt herself. Working on her hands was their best chance.
Orla made occasional grunts and Aoife responded. It was a very ineffective method of communication, but at least they both knew they weren’t alone. Aoife had no idea how much time passed, but it felt like hours before the tape tore a bit. A little while later, her hands were free.
She rotated her wrists. When the feeling had returned, it only took a few minutes to untie the knot around her head. She spat out the foul-tasting ball.
‘I’m almost free, Orla. Hang on.’
Aoife assumed Orla’s gurgles were enthusiastic support.
Untying the strips of cloth that bound her thighs to the seat of the chair was the easiest part of the process. Now that she could move her legs, Aoife crossed her ankles back and forth, putting strain on the tape binding them. At the same time, she used her nails to claw at the tape around her waist. It took a while, but the tape eventually gave.
As she was no longer bound at the waist, Aoife could bend down and use her hands to claw at the tape binding her legs. Rotating her ankles had weakened the tape a little, but it was a desperately slow process.
When the tape finally gave way, Aoife shouted, ‘I did it!’ Orla gurgled loudly. Aoife stumbled to the door. She felt along the wall for a light switch. As Jack had used a torch, she assumed the light wouldn’t work. It didn’t. She followed Orla’s gurgles to the opposite side of the room. Orla’s terrified, bloodshot eyes met hers.
Orla was tied to what looked like a hospital bed. A large ball was protruding from her mouth. Drool dripped down her chin. Unlike Aoife, her mouth hadn’t been gagged. Aoife tugged at the ball, but it wouldn’t move. Orla gurgled again. She was tied to the bed by thick ropes. How the hell was Aoife going to get her free?
When Jack had brought her back from the bathroom, Aoife had used the dim light from Jack’s torch to check out the room. She had noticed heavy drapes on the wall opposite the door. She would break the window, climb out and get help for Orla. As she moved away, Orla’s gurgles became more urgent. ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ Aoife promised. She felt her way along the wall until she touched the thick velvet material and yanked back the curtains.
She was looking out on an empty field.
‘We’re in the back of the house, Orla. There’s only a field outside.’
Orla gurgled frantically.
‘I’m coming,’ Aoife replied. She tried to focus on the window. The only light ca
me from the stars, so she couldn’t see much. Why were there dark patches in her vision? Then she understood. The windows were barred.
SIXTY-ONE
The light from the stars helped Aoife find her way to Orla without stumbling. She knelt down beside her. She could now see that the thing in Orla’s mouth was a ball gag. She reached behind Orla’s head and untied it. Orla sighed. ‘Thank God!’ she croaked.
Aoife tugged at the thick ropes that bound Orla to the bed. She patted Orla’s hand. ‘I’ll have you free in no time,’ she said, but she wasn’t at all sure it was a promise she could keep. She couldn’t even see what she was doing.
‘Light. I need light. Jack kept the room dark to disorientate us, but he’d want to be able to see what he was doing when he was having his fun.’
Orla shuddered.
‘Sorry. I’ll check the drawer.’
Orla shook her head.
‘No!’ she croaked. ‘No time.’
‘Jack wants people to think I’m in the city. I’m guessing he’ll be gone at least an hour and a half. We can’t have used up more than an hour. Don’t worry. We have enough time.’
Orla shook her head. ‘No! Could leave car anywhere.’ She coughed. ‘Could be back any minute. Hurry!’
‘It’s wasting time fiddling around in the dark.’ Aoife hurried to the drawer and yanked it open. It was almost empty. Her hands touched a box of cigars and a light bulb.
Aoife grabbed the chair she had been tied to and used it to reach the light fixture. She hit the light switch. The room flooded with light. Orla gasped. When Aoife’s eyes had adjusted, she searched the floor. She remembered Jack dropping the knife on the ground several times and hoped he’d forgotten to pick it up. He hadn’t. What he had forgotten was Tadhg’s lighter.
Should she use the lighter to burn Orla’s ropes? No, too risky. She stuck the lighter in her pocket and ran back to Orla. ‘Oh!’
‘What?’
‘I thought I only had to undo the ropes tying you to the bed. I didn’t realise your hands and legs were bound separately. This will take longer than I’d imagined.’
