Kill Me Twice: Rosie Gilmour 7

by Anna Smith

  Instinct told her something wasn’t right. Before she could even think it through, Rosie was out of bed, pulling on her jeans and a T-shirt. She stepped towards her door, but suddenly there was another sound. This time a thud, then what sounded like muffled cries. Then nothing.

  Every nerve in her body stood to attention. She knew Millie’s bedroom was on the other side of the landing facing hers, and in between there were two other rooms. Rosie had noted earlier that the rooms next to her were unoccupied, so if she wasn’t imagining this noise, it must be coming from Millie’s room. She eyed her mobile on her bedside table, considering for a moment whether to phone Matt or Millie, or even Bertie. But what if she was just panicking? These old houses always had cracks and noises. It could be anything. She found herself slowly turning the handle on her door, and pulling it gently towards her.

  The landing was in darkness, but by now her eyes were used to the blackness and she could make out Millie’s bedroom door at the other end. It was closed. She stood there, barely breathing. She should go back to bed, but she had to check, just listen at the door. She tiptoed out of the room on bare feet and padded along the corridor, holding onto the banister. In a few seconds she was at Millie’s door, her heart pounding.

  She was about to turn the handle, when the door opened. She barely had time to register her surprise before a hand reached out and dragged her into the room, another hand covering her mouth. The door behind her closed and the key was turned. Someone was holding her tight and she could feel the solid body behind her, the hand squeezing her mouth so hard she couldn’t breathe. She made muffled sounds as she struggled. Another hand punched the side of her head and she felt dizzy for a few seconds. But she recovered quickly and saw Millie sitting on the side of the bed, gaffer tape over her mouth and her hands tied behind her back. In the darkness she could see Millie’s eyes, distraught and terrified. A man was standing over her, a handgun with a silencer pointed at her head. He wore a black ski mask. Rosie kept struggling and the man behind her freed her, but stuck tape over her mouth. Then the gunman came towards her, and she could smell cigarettes and alcohol on his breath.

  ‘If you want to stay alive, you’ll keep your mouth shut,’ he whispered. ‘It’s not you we’re here for. But if you get in our way, you’re fucking dead. Am I clear?’ He pushed the gun into Rosie’s temple.

  She nodded, trying to peer at the eyes through the narrow holes in the mask. She felt her hands being roughly bound behind her, and the man holding her pulled her arms back so hard she squeaked in pain. He slapped her again and her eyes burned. Her legs buckled but she kept her balance as he pushed her against the wall. He took a step back, then suddenly, before Rosie could stop herself, her foot went up and kicked him hard between his legs. It was madness, and she knew it as soon as she heard him grunt and bend double.

  ‘What the fuck!’ The gunman was across the room in a second and grabbed Rosie’s hair. He pushed the gun into her bruised face. ‘You want this, you stupid bitch?’ Then he hit her on the side of the face with the gun and she fell to the floor. She was conscious of movement in the room, the stifled cries of Millie, who was being dragged out of the door. The man Rosie had kicked was on his feet now, gasping. As he left, he landed a swift kick to her ribs, forcing the breath out of her. She curled up in agony in the doorway, as she saw them rush across the landing and haul Millie downstairs towards the front door. Rosie crawled on her belly to the landing, then heard the unmistakable click of a gun, and the lights were suddenly full on. She blinked in the glare.

  ‘Just stop right there.’ Rosie recognized Bertie Shaw’s voice. ‘Put your gun down and let the lady go, if you value your life.’

  His voice was calm, matter-of-fact, as though he did this sort of thing every week. He went to the beefy guy and pulled the mask off his face. Rosie peered down at him. She’d seen him at a table on his own earlier in the restaurant. He’d been a guest. It had all been planned. Christ almighty! Right in front of their eyes! She couldn’t believe they’d tracked them down to here. It must be somebody’s phone.

  Suddenly Matt was standing over her in his jeans, chest bare, his mouth open in shock. His camera was by his side. He pulled the tape off Rosie’s mouth.

  ‘Get a picture of him, Matt.’ she said.

  Matt dropped to the floor and lay beside her. He aimed the camera at the scene in the hallway. ‘You okay, Rosie? Christ! Your face! You’re bleeding.’

  ‘I’m all right.’

  ‘Leave the lady alone.’ Bertie’s voice again. ‘Then walk out of here and nobody will be any the wiser. Just go to your boss and tell him you failed.’

  Suddenly the gunman pulled Millie to his chest and grabbed her in a stranglehold. He held a gun to her head.

  ‘Your call, big man. She dies in the middle of a robbery in your hotel, it’s not good for business. Now fuck off and let us get on with our work. We’re taking her with us.’

  Rosie could see Bertie stand his ground, but she knew he would have to put down the gun. Those bastards were on a mission, told to bring her back or kill her. They didn’t give a damn what they did.

  ‘Now, I’m opening this door and I’m walking out of here. Have you got that, big man? Just go back to cooking. This is not your fight so butt out.’ He pressed the gun harder to Millie’s chin and she whimpered.

  Bertie lowered his gun. The man opened the door and they backed out into the darkness. Rosie lay there, while Matt rushed into his bedroom to take pictures from the window. A moment later she pulled herself up to a sitting position and touched her face. It was swollen and her eye was almost shut. There was a searing pain in her ribs, and she groaned. Bertie looked up from the hall.

  ‘Rosie, are you hurt?’ He took the stairs two at a time.

  ‘Just slapped around a bit. But I’m okay.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Rosie. Fuck! I couldn’t stop them. They were obviously told to bring her back alive if they could, but if they couldn’t then just to kill her. I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be, Bertie. Honestly, it’s not your fault. You risked your life there. Thanks.’ As Rosie sat up, she felt a little tearful.

  Bertie gently lifted her to her feet. ‘Come on, let’s get you sorted. You hurt anywhere else apart from your face?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Rosie grimaced, her breath catching. ‘He kicked me in the ribs. I think he cracked one at least. Can barely breathe.’

  ‘Let’s get you to your room.’

  A bedroom door opened and Bridget came out, clearly bewildered. ‘What’s happened Rosie? Where’s Millie? I just heard the commotion.’ She rushed towards Rosie and helped take her weight as they limped to her room.

  ‘She’s gone, Bridget,’ Rosie said. ‘They took her. Chambers must have sent them.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Matt loaded Rosie’s bags into the boot of her car, as she limped up to him. The sharp pain when she took a breath had been confirmed as a cracked rib, by Bertie’s GP friend. The doctor had dropped in as a favour to him and, to Rosie’s surprise, he didn’t ask any questions about how she’d been injured. He prescribed painkillers and a couple of weeks’ rest. Fat chance, Rosie thought, as she thanked him while he put a couple of butterfly clips above her eyebrow where the fat man’s punch had opened up the flesh. ‘You’ll live this time,’ the doctor said, as he gave her a stern look, and she couldn’t help but smile, wondering just how much Bertie had confided in him about his hotel guests.

  *

  Rosie’s first phone call at six thirty that morning had been to McGuire, who was immediately on edge when he answered.

  ‘This can only be bad news, Gilmour. I’m barely out of bed.’

  ‘It is, Mick. It’s Millie Chambers. She’s gone.’

  ‘What? She did a runner?’

  ‘No. She was kidnapped from her hotel room. Middle of the night. Chambers must have organized it.’

  ‘Fucking Christ almighty! What happened?’

  Rosie described the scene as he listened,
and she could hear him almost breathless with disbelief.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’ve got a cracked rib. Bertie got one of his doc pals to call over and that’s what he said. Oh, and my good looks are a bit on the swollen side,’ she joked.

  ‘Jesus, Rosie! This is fucking serious!’

  ‘Yeah, well, I think Millie Chambers will know that, wherever she is.’

  ‘Where do you think they took her? Back to the laughing academy?’

  ‘I suppose so, but I don’t know how the hell we’re ever going to find out now.’

  ‘What about the nurse? . . . What’s her name? Bridget? Is she okay?’

  ‘Yeah. She slept through it. But we need to get out of here now, so we’re heading up the road. Bridget isn’t coming. She says she’s going home in case Millie gets in touch. She doesn’t want to be too far away from her if she can help in some way. She’s a lovely, caring woman, Mick, and right now she’s the only friend Millie’s got. But Christ knows where they’ve taken her.’

  ‘Do you think they’d take her to another clinic?’

  ‘No idea. Depends on how Chambers wants to play it. If it gets out that she went walkabout, he’ll be able to say she’s back safe and sound now. If he puts her somewhere more secure, he’s going to look dodgy, considering he’s said she went in voluntarily. He won’t want people to know she’s been sectioned.’

  McGuire was silent, and Rosie could almost hear him think.

  ‘You know what, Gilmour? I think we need to lean on this Chambers fucker. He can’t have it all his own way. We need to put some heat on him. We should think about fronting him up and telling him what we’ve got. Actually, kidnapping Millie might have been his biggest mistake.’

  ‘I agree, but it’s proving he was behind the kidnapping that’s the problem.’

  ‘Well, who the fuck else would kidnap her? It’s up to him to explain that. He’s in the shit and he must be feeling it now. All we’ve done in the paper is reveal that she was in the Madrid hotel on the night of the murder, but he’ll be suspicious that we have more. And he’ll be right. That’s why he’s gone to such lengths to track her down. How did it go last night?’

  ‘Great. It’ll make a terrific piece, Millie and Dan together. He was really upset when I told him how Bella died, but he’s more determined than ever to help us.’

  ‘Good. I need you up here as soon as, Gilmour, so we can work out where we go next. Can you write that piece from last night on the way up?’

  ‘Sure,’ Rosie said. ‘I’ll have it half done by the time I get to Glasgow.’

  She was struggling with the pain in her ribs, but when McGuire was fired up like this she wanted to keep it that way. The lawyers would have a fight on their hands if they tried to stand in his way.

  ‘And what about Dan?’

  ‘I’m going to have to take him back to the flat. Bertie has suggested coming along with us as a minder. He’s driving my car up. He can stay with Dan while I’m working and getting things sorted. I don’t know if Chambers has any idea that Millie is talking to us, but given that he’s already tracked her down, he must have some sharp people working for him so I think it’s good to have Bertie on our side.’

  ‘Is this cop-turned-hotel-owner a bit mental? By that, I mean is he like that big Bosnian ghost?’

  ‘You mean like Adrian? No. Bertie’s all right. He was brave enough to take on these guys this morning, but he had to back down or Millie would have been shot. I think we should bring him with us.’

  ‘Okay. Fair enough. Maybe he can come into the office and rustle me up a full English breakfast.’ McGuire chuckled.

  *

  Rosie was waiting for Bridget when she came out of the hotel and walked towards them. The car Bertie had arranged to drive her back to Eastbourne was already waiting.

  ‘Are you sure you want to go home, Bridget?’ Rosie said, as she approached. ‘It might be a good idea for you to disappear for a couple of days and come to Scotland with us. I can get you put up in a hotel.’

  ‘Not at all,’ Bridget said, folding her coat over her arm. ‘I’ll be fine. Those animals got what they came for. Poor Millie. I can’t help thinking of her back in some hospital. I’m going to my house and back to work, as if everything is fine. Maybe Millie will find a way to get in touch.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘These people haven’t won yet, and if I’ve got anything to do with it, they won’t. I hope you can do your story, Rosie. Expose the lot of them.’

  ‘We will, Bridget,’ Rosie said. ‘And thanks so much for getting in touch. We wouldn’t be anywhere with this investigation if it wasn’t for you.’

  ‘No, Rosie. You wouldn’t be anywhere with it if it wasn’t for Millie and her courage. She’s the one who was brave enough to stand up and be counted. I was only the messenger.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ Rosie said, ‘I’m very grateful you came to me and nobody else.’

  ‘I’m confident I’ve done the right thing. I know you’ll bust a gut to get something done.’ She stepped forward and gave Rosie a motherly hug.

  ‘You take care, Bridget. Call me when you get home.’

  ‘I will, and I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear anything from Millie – I hope she’ll find a way to call me.’

  Rosie went to the car where Dan was in the back seat, staring out of the window. ‘You okay, Dan?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Right.’ She turned to Bertie, pain stabbing her ribs. ‘You ready to roll?’

  ‘I was born ready, Rosie.’

  They drove off with Matt behind them.

  *

  Millie hadn’t screamed or struggled when they’d pushed her into the back seat of the car. She hadn’t even cried. Not as much as a whimper or a sob came out of her, even when they roughly peeled off the tape from her mouth. She vowed to show them nothing: no emotion, no anger. She just sat there, gazing out of the side window as they’d driven out of the back roads leading to the A74 South. She assumed she would be taken to London or to Sussex, back to the Dawson Institute, but she never asked. The only time she nodded was when they stopped at a motorway service area so she could use the toilet. They had warned her not to do anything stupid, and they stood outside the entrance waiting for her. She could have run there and then in front of everyone, she could have kicked up a fuss that would have brought some kind of reaction, but she’d made up her mind to be passive. If she had caused a scene and the police were called, they’d have been told she was a patient who had been sectioned, so it wouldn’t have made any difference.

  All she could do now was to hope that Rosie Gilmour and the newspaper would take up the fight on her behalf. She would be calm and co-operative, and she continued to be so even when she saw, after eight hours, that they were heading in the direction of the clinic. No doubt they would move quickly now to begin the ECT. Inside, she was terrified and lonely, on the edge of screaming. But she wouldn’t. She wondered if Colin would visit, but it was now seven in the evening. She was glad, and she made herself put any thoughts of him out of her mind. She owed it to that poor young man, Dan, to be strong and to do everything she could to keep it together. And she owed it to Bella who, even though she knew it was irrational, she still felt she had failed. Of course it was a ridiculous notion that she should step in and risk her life to save a total stranger, but it didn’t make her feel any less guilty.

  When the nurses came and went with, they did so with quiet organization and few words. They gave her medication, which she assured them she had taken, but when they left, she had taken it from the inside of her jaw where she’d lodged it and flushed it down the toilet. She would escape again. She would find a way. But, first, she had to let Bridget know where she was so that she could relay the information to Rosie. She was one gutsy woman – especially when she’d kicked out at the kidnapper.

  They brought Millie her evening meal, and she sat at the little table by the window in her room, picking at the fish pie. It was decent enough but it was a pris
on meal, even if it was for a well-heeled prisoner. She would have loved a glass of white wine, and a bottle would have been even more welcome, but Millie managed to keep a lid on her cravings. She knew she wasn’t an alcoholic, despite the drunken benders she frequently went on: they were all about escaping from what her life had become. Now she had to be firing on all cylinders. She glimpsed out into the corridor, the polished floors and the quiet activity of nurses and staff going about their business. She ate her meal and gazed out of the window at the blaze of daffodils in the fading evening light.

  Then she became aware of a figure in the doorway. The woman with the snowy hair whom she’d met in the grounds the morning she escaped stood watching her, a roguish smile playing on her thin lips. Millie said nothing but smiled and blinked in acknowledgement, hoping she would go away. But she stood staring. Then she took a step inside the room, and Millie began to feel a little uneasy. She wondered who had locked her up in here, and how long ago.

  ‘I see they brought you back,’ she whispered, coming a little closer to Millie. ‘I knew they’d get you. But at least you lasted longer than me. Good on you. I heard you climbed the gate.’ She grinned.

  Millie didn’t know what to say. But the woman wasn’t threatening, so she smiled back.

  ‘They found me in four hours,’ the woman said. ‘I was just sitting in a cafe and in they came. The bastards.’

  ‘Really? I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Yep. You must have had help, though. I had no help. I just climbed the gate and ran like blazes. Stupid, when I think of it.’ She came even closer so that she was standing over Millie. ‘I heard one of the nurses whispering that you were away up north or something.’

  Millie said nothing, but the woman looked lonely. She motioned her to sit down. ‘How long have you been here?’ she asked.

  The woman folded her arms and crossed her legs, her linen trousers creeping up to expose wrinkled shins. ‘Lost count. But it’s a very long time. Years. I’m not even sure what age I am now. All the medication they give me made me a bit of a loony. I forget a lot of things.’