Dull-eyed, I shook my head. Black chill settled in the small of my back and crawled along my spine.
“This,” she said, “is why you are going to get up very slowly and walk back into the water.” She gave the contents a shake and viewed me with an empty expression. “You will drown but, if you’re a good girl, you won’t be horribly disfigured before you do.”
“Acid?” I gasped.
“Tris won’t be so interested in you once the skin has melted right off your face.”
With a malevolent grin, Edie sprang to her feet. “Neat, isn’t it? Broken-hearted after the death of her big sis, Molly Napier takes her own life. Suicide runs in the family, it seems.”
Terror shot through me as real and bright as any lightning strike. If I misjudged, even by a fraction, I could not begin to imagine the world of pain I’d encounter. But what choice did I have? Edie was bat-shit crazy.
I moved my left palm down and raised myself slowly up onto my knees. My right hand balled into a fist.
Edie jiggled the contents of the bottle. “No tricks.”
Images of burnt hair and destroyed flesh flashed before me as our eyes locked. Breathing heavily, fear fizzing, I peeled myself from the ground. Almost upright, I tightened my grip, shifting my thumb to the base of the torch.
“Now turn around.”
Like a suicide bomber depressing an explosive, I pushed the switch and swung my arm up. A full beam, powerful enough to wrench out retinas, shone directly into Edie’s eyes.
An ear-shattering scream ripped through the sides of the quarry.
And it wasn’t mine.
Edie staggered backwards, dropped the bottle, her hands flying to her face.
I launched straight at her and lumped her one. “You’ve fucking broken my nose,” she howled, her voice taut with fear.
I couldn’t swim, but I could run.
Darting forward, I bolted for the gate and vaulted over. I kept on running. I didn’t stop, didn’t look back. My joints and muscles screeched, and my bare feet slapped against the road. If they bled, I didn’t notice. If my lungs screamed, I didn’t pause. Behind me, Edie’s thin voice was consumed by a mad as hell wind that battered the trees and yelled at the dawn.
Back in my car, I fired the ignition, slammed it into reverse and, stamping on the gas, drove.
At the end of the road, I snatched at the brakes, banged the heater up full belt, locked all the doors and called 999. With my teeth chattering and my arm shaking, I asked for police and ambulance. “I’ve been attacked by a woman at Gullet Quarry. She’s armed with acid and she has my brother.” If they assumed Edie had Zach at the quarry, I didn’t care. I simply wanted them to arrive and quickly. When the man with the tired voice on the other end asked for more details, I hung up. Protocol and form filling didn’t work at times like this. If Zach was to stand a chance, I needed big guns. Rachel answered after six rings.
I blurted out that Zach was in danger. “We have to find him. Edie Chancellor murdered Drea Temple. She attacked Zach and won’t say where he is. His life’s hanging in the balance.”
“Slow down, Molly. Who’s Edie Chancellor?”
“She’s married to my brother’s best friend.” A lot less lucid than when I’d spoken a few moments ago, I launched into a rambling explanation, finishing with my near-death experience.
Rachel’s voice blistered with alarm.
“Are you all right?”
“I think so.” Wet and frightened and cold to my core, I felt disconnected. My pulse felt staccato and erratic, but I took that to be a good sign; at least I had one. “I’ve called it in,” I remembered to tell her.
“Good girl. Where are you now?”
“I’m at the end of the road near the quarry.”
“And where is Mrs Chancellor?”
“Where I last left her, stumbling in the dark.” I glanced nervously in the rear-view mirror to be certain she wasn’t coming back for an encore.
“You’ll need to give a formal statement to the police.”
I blinked. As a witness, or what? At this rate, I’d be talking to Gloucestershire, Wiltshire and West Mercia. And Rocco, I needed to speak to him, tell him what’s happened, yes, I should do that but, I found it hard to think, took so much effort, felt so tired, and mustn’t forget my brother. “What about Zach?” I mumbled. “Last I knew he was at ‘Flotsam,’ my shop in town.”
“Right, I’m on it. Do not go there. Wait for the ambulance.”
I smiled. How could I go anywhere when all I wanted was to go home, get dry and warm, and sleep and sleep? At the sound of approaching police and ambulances, I reached for the door. I didn’t remember much after that.
Chapter 80
I floated, light and carefree, and safe.
A police officer with a gentle voice got to me first and wrapped me in a blanket. Looking groggily into his eyes, I found it impossible to speak coherently. Afterwards, I was transferred to an ambulance where everything and everyone worked in slow motion. A paramedic said something about potential cardiac arrest, although my heart did not stop beating. I had too much to live for. When a stranger cut away my wet clothes, I didn’t mind a bit. Careful and caring, quiet hands wrapped me in special blankets. Like an Egyptian Mummy, only my face peeped out. I silently thanked people.
Someone fed me a hot drink. Someone else put a warm compress against my chest. I didn’t recall anyone measuring my vital signs, but I guess they must have done.
By the time, I got to hospital I could make out what was going on around me, although I was too tired to take part. Badly bruised, my bones ached, and my back killed. Maybe I had cracked ribs. All I wanted was sleep and, when I did, I dreamt of Scarlet. She was walking down a road with a rucksack on her back. I called after her and she turned, smiled and waved goodbye.
“Don’t go,” I cried, desolate as I woke up.
Nurses came and went. A doctor advised I should be kept in for observation. As my body reheated, my thoughts became more lucid. A nice D.I. called Tracey West popped her head around my door. She had a wide face with big open, and I liked to think, honest, features. “Are you well enough to give a statement?”
“My brother,” I said, before she had time to sit down.
“He’s been found.”
I grabbed at the sheets. “Is he?”
“He’s in ICU with a fractured skull. The medics will be able to tell you more. I think they’re planning to transfer him to the QE in Birmingham.”
Closing my eyes, I silently told Scarlet that he was still alive. Maybe she already knew. “Where was he found?” I said.
“In the cellar at your shop, which is now a crime scene.” Rachel, I thought with relief, she’d come through for me.
“Can I see him?”
“You’ll need to consult the nurses.”
“Do my parents know?”
“We haven’t been able to contact them.”
I started. “Neither of them?”
“I’m sure we will,” Tracey said smoothly. “Now can you tell me what happened? Take your time.”
I started off with what occurred at the quarry. I kept it factual and unemotional.
“Mrs Chancellor is extremely distressed and claims that she only meant to scare you,” West said.
I was flabbergasted. “With acid?”
“You’ve had a very narrow escape,” Tracey admitted. “She’ll be charged with possession of an offensive weapon.”
“You should have charged her with attempted murder.”
Before Tracey could launch into the niceties of British law, I did a re-run of my conversation with Rachel Haran. As tough as it was, I stuck to facts when talking about my father, as if I were discussing some bloke down the road. There was no escape from what I truly felt. Relief that my instincts were sound yet crushing disappointment that my father was not the person I thought he was. Dad had lived a lie for so long, he’d made me a co-conspirator. Did I still love him? At the moment I was too raw to be certai
n of anything. I wondered how long it would take for the police to make an arrest. They’d have to find him first.
Chapter 81
A hospital porter helped me into a wheelchair. It made me feel like a two-year-old, but no way would they let me walk unaided to see Zach.
I’d seen my brother pale and lifeless before, after an overdose. At the time, doctors had packed his stomach with charcoal, infused him with saline and put him on a ventilator. They’d told Mum and Dad that the next twenty-four hours were critical.
I gazed at him now as I did then. Only this time, part of Zach’s head was shaved. He’d lost half his dreads and his face was puffy and discoloured around one eye. Who knew how mashed up his brain would be beneath the dressing? If he pulled through, how would he be? Would he remember and what would happen to him?
I asked a doctor about his chances. “Too early to say,” she replied with a sympathetic expression. “After the operation to reduce the swelling in his brain, we put him into an induced coma to give him the best chance of healing.”
“He looks so vulnerable.” His arms were stick thin, shrinking his tattoos.
“He’s young. He’ll receive the best care in Birmingham.”
“He’s an addict,” I said gloomily.
“Even addicts pull through.”
“You’re not thinking of getting out of bed now, luvvie?”
The nurse, a big woman who, on every level defied NHS advice on obesity, tucked me in. I shook my head with a sheepish smile. “Do you need a bed pan?”
“I need to make a phone call.”
She smiled, disappeared and, as good as her word, trundled in with a portable phone trolley.
I made a reverse charge call to Lenny. “Molly, thank God,” she exclaimed. “Me and Dusty were about to come and see you.” She waited a respectful beat. “Have you heard about Zach?”
“I’ve seen him. They took me up to the ward.”
“How is he?”
“Hanging on in there.” If I believed it enough, he’d be okay, wouldn’t he?
“I thought he was dead,” Lenny declared.
“Where exactly did they find him?”
“Two police officers rocked up and said that they’d searched the property. Frightened the life out of me. When they opened the cellar there he was. If it hadn’t been for them turning up, God knows what would have happened. But, goodness, Molly, you’re lucky to be alive.”
I swallowed. I mentally added ‘unhinged’ to Edie’s dismal list of attributes.
“Dusty’s bought you PJ’s and toiletries,” Lenny continued.
I wouldn’t need them but didn’t tell Lenny this. “There’s a key stuck to the underside of the window frame at the front of my house.” Which, on reflection, wasn’t very smart. “Could you go inside and bring me a pair of jeans, T-shirt and trainers?”
“Okay,” Lenny said uncertainly. “You’re not planning to discharge yourself, or do anything silly, are you?”
“’Course not,” I said. “And, um, could you bring them straightaway?
I had so much to think about. West would be back to ask more questions I couldn’t answer. Zach I could do nothing for apart from pray. My car was in dock and I needed wheels. Rocco remained an enigma. Way past the time we were due to meet, why hadn’t he picked up my call? He’d be waiting, worrying and primed to hear from me, wouldn’t he? That slow kiss said so. Then why did I nag with doubt? Why did I fear that he’d run out on me? Why did my eyes brim with tears at other possibilities?
Because the injuries to my body had messed with my head.
Because I couldn’t trust anyone.
And most of all, because I missed my sister.
Chapter 82
“Darling.” Dusty gushed, launching herself at me. “You look dreadful.”
“That’s the last thing Molly needs to hear,” Lenny said protectively.
“Well it’s true.”
Lenny flashed an apologetic smile and parked a plastic bag next to the bed. “Your stuff’s all there,” she said. “And I slipped your purse and spare key inside.”
“Can I borrow your phone?” I asked Lenny.
“Sure.”
I phoned Rocco again. Same response: phone switched off.
“Something wrong?” Lenny said.
“It’s nothing.” In reality, it was everything. Dread expanded inside me.
“What’s the news on Zach?”
“It’s a waiting game.”
“Would we be able to see him?”
“I’m sure that would be fine, but what about Mum and Dad? The police don’t seem to be able to locate them.”
Lenny cleared her throat. Dusty walked to the end of the bed and took an avid interest in my chart.
“What?” I said suspiciously.
Dusty exchanged an awkward glance with Lenny. “Now I don’t want you getting all upset.”
I spiked with fresh anxiety. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Dusty looked to Lenny who spoke. “When we went to your house, we found Mr Lee.”
“He’s perfectly fine,” Dusty interrupted, in response to my dismayed expression. “Delighted to see us, in fact.”
“What the hell is he doing at my house?” And then I tumbled to it. “They’ve gone, haven’t they? They’ve scarpered. What a gutless pair of—”
“We went straight to your mum and dad’s,” Dusty explained, “but it’s all shut up.”
Agitated, I pushed back the sheets and swung my legs round.
“Molly,” she said, attempting to placate me, “I understand but—”
“Their son’s life is hanging in the balance. I’ve narrowly escaped death and they’ve fucked off because they can’t bear to face a symphony’s worth of music. How could you possibly understand?” My voice was outrageously loud, a cover for the pure devastation I felt inside. I’d so loved my father. Once, I’d have trusted him with my life. That he’d run out on me was too much to endure.
“Darling,” she said, uncomfortable with my loss of volume control, “You need to rest. There is absolutely no point getting yourself into a state.”
If there is one thing I cannot abide it’s when being upset is somehow the fault of the upsetee rather than the person or set of events responsible. My face must have said it all because Lenny shot Dusty a warning look.
“Molly, I really think Dusty is—”
“I’m sick of everyone having a good view of my rear,” I said indignantly. “The sooner I get some clothes on, the better.”
Chapter 83
On unsteady legs, I tottered out of the ward, found the ladies and staggered into a cubicle. Clouting both my elbows, I managed to get dressed. Emerging into the wash area, I nodded at a cleaner. Catching my reflection in the mirror, I concluded that Dusty was right. Like tracing the scars on an old piece of furniture, I could map the emotional trajectory of the last two weeks by the fresh lines on my face.
I slipped out into the corridor and made my way through two sets of double doors and took the stairs. So many people coming and going in the main reception hall, it was easy to mingle and sneak outside.
A white-bright sun took pole position. The air was cleaner and fresher, apart from where a hardcore group of smokers puffed away a short distance from a sign that announced; ‘No Smoking.’ When a taxi dropped off an elderly man right outside the door, I snuck in and asked the cabbie to take me home. There was no other place to go. Had to be done. If I’d gone back to the ward, Dusty and Lenny would have put up all kinds of reasons for me to stay put. I’d apologise and explain to them later.
“Bad storm, last night,” the driver remarked.
“Uh huh.”
He quickly gathered I wasn’t much of a talker and the rest of the journey was silent. When we reached my place, I emptied my purse and paid him.
The second my key scraped the lock, Mr Lee let out a yap, stood up on the sofa on his hind legs, and threw himself at the front window. It was the first sign of normality in
days. Seeing his soft, slobbery face cheered me.
I walked straight into the sitting room and scooped him up. Shiny-eyed, he licked my face and generally let me know he was pleased to see me. He adored my mother, but in lieu of her absence, he was prepared to transfer his affections. Stuck in that moment, I thought of the futility of a lifetime of trying to make her love me. I wondered where they were and how far they’d got. Knowing my father, they would be out of the country in a place where the extradition laws were flaky.
I put Mr Lee down, his claws skittering on the polished wooden floorboards, released the lock on the sash window and opened it wide to get rid of the doggie stink.
“Want to go out?” I said. Interpreting his dance around my legs as an affirmative, I followed him to the kitchen, opened the back door and watched as he trotted out into the garden.
Rocco, I thought, gazing across the lawn, where the hell are you?
A sudden movement behind and I felt a pair of hands slide over my eyes, the body of another pressed close to my back. “Rocco,” I laughed gently, “You’re a dark horse.”
Drawn back, I went with it, played along, and took a couple of steps away from the door. I giggled but, as the pressure on my eyes increased, I stopped finding it funny. Starbursts of light flew in front of me and I felt disorientated. “Hey, stop messing about.” The heaviness slackened, fingers gliding down my cheeks, slipping to my neck, my throat. Big hands. Man’s hands. Hands that wanted to kill me.
Fear as sharp as razor wire cut through me. My arms flung out wide and wild. My feet scrabbled for purchase. I was dragged backwards. The air in my lungs never made it to my throat, the scream that threatened to emerge summarily executed.
His sour breath was hot and close to my ear. I caught a bitter smell, a distillation of coffee, sweat and ruthlessness. I should twist and turn. I should bite and scratch. Determined to extract his DNA, I should take lumps out of him with my nails. I did none of these things. Maybe, if I pretended my hyoid bone had snapped, he’d let me go.
Pitiable and feeble, I stopped moving at all. I took a last look at freedom, the garden beyond, the dog pottering about, sniffing every bush, peeing on every blade of grass, oblivious to the chaos in my kitchen. I’d never envisaged life ending this way. Finally, I keened my ears for Scarlet’s voice, but there was nothing there apart from my assailant’s.
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