by J. A. Kalis
He looked at the piece of paper with the name of the village written on it. ‘Oh, now I see what you mean. I wouldn’t know how to pronounce it. Where is this place? Is it far?’
‘I guess about fifty or sixty kilometres from here.’
‘Would you by any chance know the name of the guesthouse she was supposed to stay in?’
‘Sorry to disappoint you on this one, but I don’t. I’ve never been there so I can’t tell you much about it.’
‘We can look the place up on the Internet and find out how many hotels it has. Maybe there won’t be that many and we can call them all,’ Mike suggested.
Patrick checked his watch and looked at Mike.
‘Why waste time? Why not go there and see for ourselves? It’s just a short drive, and it’s not that late. If we leave soon, we can make it before nightfall.’
‘You mean we should leave right away?’ The incredulity in Mike’s voice was apparent. ‘Don’t you feel tired after the journey, and hungry? I do. I think we should stay for the night here, get something to eat and some rest before setting off tomorrow.’
‘Well, we can’t afford to lose too much time, can we? What if Carol is in danger and needs our help? If we wait until tomorrow it might be too late. Could you live with yourself if something really bad happened to her and we were sitting around here?’
Patrick’s eyes bore into Mike’s. Visibly uncomfortable, the younger man averted his gaze.
‘What I mean is that we don’t even know if she’s still there. Maybe she’s already left the village. Are we going to drive around the whole area searching for her, so late in the evening? Pure madness. It would be more reasonable to get some rest first and start the search tomorrow.’
‘You know, you are free to do what you want. I didn’t ask you to come with me. So if you want to stay here for the night, just do it. I’ll go and look for Carol alone.’ The tone of his voice made it clear he had already made the decision, and that nothing would weaken his resolve.
‘No, it’s out of the question. I won’t let you go alone. It’s only that I feel tired.’
‘You’re right, we’re both tired. So before we leave, we will refresh ourselves and get a quick bite.’
He turned to the girl. ‘Can we get something to eat here? Something quick – an omelette or a salad?’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll go to the kitchen and tell the chef to make something for you, let’s say in about—’
‘A quarter of an hour?’
‘Okay. The dining room is behind this door over there, on your right.’
Keys in hand, they climbed the steps to the first floor.
‘Are we going to stay overnight there?’ Mike asked.
‘I don’t think we should. We’d better come back tonight to La Belle Etoile.’
***
When both men had disappeared from sight, the receptionist headed for the small room that served as an office and private quarters. Its entrance was right behind the reception desk. At the sound of her footsteps, Corinne, who was sitting at a computer, turned around to face her.
‘So, all went as planned?’
‘Yes, I did as you instructed.’
‘I heard some of it. Well done, Aurélie. When are they going to leave?’
‘In about half an hour. They wanted to have something to eat first. I’ll ask the chef to make something quick.’
‘Fine. You know, I really appreciate what you’ve done for me. I hope I can return the favour someday. They won’t find that English girl, Carol, there. But this will buy her some time. Don’t worry about them being angry when they come back – I’ll deal with them then. The English girl was right when she told me they would come looking for her. I have no idea what they have done to her but she seemed scared. She didn’t want them to find her. She pleaded with me to help her hide from them. I just couldn’t refuse. I promised to do what I could to put them on the wrong track.’
The moment Aurélie left the room, Corinne picked up her mobile and called Lorenzo.
‘Hi, it’s me. Everything’s worked as planned. They’re going to leave in about half an hour. So get ready for some action.’
When she finished talking, she put her mobile aside. A self-satisfied smile curled the corners of her mouth as she leaned back in her swivel chair.
CHAPTER 13
The moment they stepped out of the hotel lobby, they noticed a change in the weather. The sun was gone and the sky had clouded over, taking on an ominous hue. The air had become muggy and tainted with the fresh, earthy smell of an approaching rain storm. The wind began to blow in heavy gusts. Tree branches swayed, leaves rustled. As Patrick and Mike hurried towards their car, they felt a sudden chill creeping into the warm air, cutting through it like a razor-sharp blade.
By the time they reached the vehicle, the first thick drops of rain had splattered on the hard surface of the car park, raising plumes of dust so fine they looked like steam. In a rush, Patrick climbed into the driver’s side while Mike slipped into the passenger seat next to him. Patrick put the car in gear and steered the Opel Corsa out of the car park, heading south. Driving at a steady speed, he soon reached the village limits. Once there, his right foot pressed harder on the accelerator.
For the next quarter of an hour, Patrick drove briskly down the almost deserted road that wound its way through desolate countryside and handled a couple of sweeping turns with confidence.
Before long, the fast moving, grey clouds had engulfed the sky, darkening the bleak landscape. To improve the visibility, he had to turn on the headlights. The rain grew heavier, thick drops drumming a steady rhythm on the windshield. The frantic wipers swept at full speed in a tough battle against the streaming water. As if to make things worse, the wind picked up, sending occasional blasts of spray their way. The tops of the trees lining the road were swaying wildly from side to side. In the distance, flashes of lightning lit the sky, and a low rumble of thunder began rolling their way.
Patrick glanced at Mike who remained silent throughout the drive. The young man looked tense.
‘What’s the matter, Mike? Are you afraid of the storm?’
‘Afraid? No, I’m not afraid of the storm. I’m worried that we might get stranded in the middle of nowhere. The countryside looks so desolate. I haven’t seen a sign of life for some time, no lights, nothing. We should have waited at the guesthouse until tomorrow. But you wouldn’t listen. Driving through a deserted area in such bad weather is crazy.’
‘Bad weather is not enough to stop me. Don’t worry, we won’t get stranded. We’ve not far to go now. And it’s not that late, only half past eight.’
A jagged flash of lightning tore the sky apart. A crash of thunder followed, echoing in the distance.
The meandering road was slick with rain and Patrick had to slow down.
‘What did Carol say last time she called?’ he asked Mike.
‘Not much, really. Just that she’d arrived in Rocamadour, and that she was staying at La Belle Etoile. She wasn’t in the mood to talk. I think she was still angry at me for not coming with her. It’s not that I didn’t want to, but with being so crazy-busy at work, I couldn’t get any time off. I don’t think she believed me though. I didn’t push her for more information, because I know her. I know that if she decides to keep something secret from me, she will, no matter how hard I beg her to tell me. Sometimes, she can be quite obstinate.’
Patrick ignored Mike’s last remark. Instead, unable to stop a quiver of emotion creeping into his voice, he said, ‘That man, Lucien, is dangerous. He is capable of anything. You haven’t seen Sandy’s body. I have. What he did to her … it was horrible. I do hope that Carol hasn’t met him yet. That we aren’t too late.’
‘She’s stronger than you think. She can handle things.’
‘She can’t handle someone so vicious. Not alone.’
‘And what if we find her safe and bring her back home, what are you going to do next? I mean, are you going to look for Sandy’s
killer and punish him for what he did to her? Or will you let him get away with it?’
A couple of minutes passed before Patrick answered, his voice low but intense and determined, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. ‘At first I thought I’d just let the police do their job and calmly wait until they’d caught him. But I can’t. I can’t forget how she died, I can’t let it go. And it’s not getting better with time. It gets worse. Inside my head I see her face, pale, dead. It keeps haunting me. Guilt eats me up. I blame myself because I wasn’t able to keep her out of harm’s way. I shouldn’t have let her go there in the first place. And now, my baby, she is never coming back. So if you really want to know what I intend to do next, I’ll tell you: yes, I am going to look for him. I want to get to him before the police do and make him pay for what he did to my daughter. Otherwise, I’d feel I had let her down.’
For several minutes, both men were silent, the soothing radio music and the steady thudding of rain the only sounds filling the car. Patrick strained to see the road ahead through the downpour, his hands tightening their grip on the steering wheel. Mike stared dully at the rivulets of rain running down the windowpane. Just then, the next jagged flash of lightning tore the sky apart. As soon as it faded away, Patrick glanced his companion’s way.
‘What do you—’
He didn’t finish. Suddenly, they felt a bump and the car jolted forward as if something had hit its rear bumper.
‘What was that?’ Mike asked in alarm.
‘No idea.’
‘Something hit us. Be careful.’
‘I am. Can you take a look behind us on the road? Do you see anything?’
As Mike was about to turn his head to look through the rear window, another bump and a jolt followed. The impact of the collision threw Mike hard against the seat, taking him by surprise. A sharp cry escaped his lips before he could stop it.
When he’d steadied himself, he looked behind, unable to see much at first because a pair of headlights blinded him. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. Then he caught a glimpse of a hood of a vehicle.
‘I can’t see much of the car that hit us, can’t see the driver or what kind of car it is. Only the colour. It’s white. The road is so rain-slick. The car must have slid on it. We were lucky. I don’t think there’s much damage to either of the vehicles. Aren’t you going to stop and check?’
‘Are you serious? In this weather? Besides, we’ve got no time to waste.’ Patrick accelerated.
Ahead, a bend in the road appeared. He slowed down to take it. Once the road straightened out, he jammed his foot back on the accelerator. Mike turned and looked through the rear window.
‘We’ve shaken him off. I hope he’ll keep a safe distance.’
The moment the words left his mouth, a pair of headlights emerged from the curtain of rain. Within seconds, the vehicle closed in on them, tailgating their car.
Patrick tried to lose their pursuer but couldn’t. Each time he accelerated, the white car too sped up, catching up almost immediately.
‘Oh, that’s all we need, some crazy guy chasing us; he didn’t bump into our car by accident. I’m sure he did it on purpose. That psycho is following us and trying to push off the road.’ There was a note of panic in Mike’s voice.
As soon as he finished speaking, a hard blow from the rear threw the Opel forward. The steering wheel jerked in Patrick’s hands and the car swerved violently to the right. Instantly, another crushing blow followed. The Opel skidded as the wheels lost traction on the rain-slick tarmac. It spun out of control. Patrick’s head spun with it. A wave of nausea rose in his throat but he swallowed it back at the last moment.
Frantic, he eased his foot off the accelerator and tried to get the car back on track. As he fought the steering wheel, his fingers clamping it tight, he felt sweat coat his forehead and the palms of his hands. His heart raced and he had to struggle to stay calm. There was not much else he could do, just wait for the skid to be over. The next few seconds seemed like eternity.
Finally, the wheels gained traction. The tyres screeched as they reconnected with the road surface, spraying rainwater. Then, the car slowed down almost to a stop. In an instant, Patrick managed to balance it and regain full control. Keeping a steady hand on the wheel, he corrected its course. Once he’d steered it in the right direction, he accelerated.
Throughout all this, Mike sat glued to his seat, not daring to move. He could do nothing but pray. Only when the car righted itself and sped down the road, did he heave a sigh of relief, letting some of the tension ease out of his body.
But they hadn’t gone far when they felt another jolt.
The white car struck again, crashing against the Opel’s rear. This time even harder than before. The Opel rocked and swerved dangerously. Mike shouted in pain as his chest hit the dashboard. Hard. Seized by panic, Patrick slammed the brakes. That did nothing to slow down the car. On the contrary, it only worsened the situation, putting the vehicle into a spin. Again, the wheels lost traction and slipped on the wet surface. Struggling to hold onto the steering wheel, Patrick strained to see through the windshield, everything a whirling blur. For a fraction of a second, he glimpsed the white car behind, rain swirling in its bright headlights.
All of a sudden, a bolt of lightning cut through the sky accompanied by a crack of thunder. A menacing rumble followed, drowning out all other sounds. Then, as soon as it came, it died away.
Unsure how to regain control of the car, Patrick took his feet off the pedals and turned the steering wheel both ways. All his manoeuvres proved pointless and did nothing to change the speed nor the direction of the vehicle. The car acted as if it had a mind of its own. In an instant, it skidded off the road and entered a grassy meadow, gliding down its gentle slope. He pushed the brakes but they appeared to be useless. No matter how hard he stomped on them, he couldn’t stop the vehicle or even reduce its speed. He lost total control, feeling helpless and frustrated. Desperation threatened to engulf him.
Up ahead, in the bouncing headlight beams, a line of trees materialized. Fear gripped him. A crash seemed inevitable. There was no escaping it now. But he refused to give up all hope. Not yet. In a final frantic attempt to save their lives, he yanked the steering wheel to the right. It didn’t help. Wherever he looked, he saw trees. They approached a forest. Suddenly, a thick clump of brush jutted out of the ground right in front. As the Opel ploughed through it, it slowed down a bit. Then, a couple of metres further down, the vehicle smashed into a tree with a dull bang, coming to a sudden stop. The hood crumpled as if it was made of tinfoil. The windshield shattered, producing a deafening noise. Shards of glass showered around both men.
The next thing Patrick knew, he was thrown forward and felt the airbag explode in his face, sending him hurling back against his seat. He collapsed in it, hovering on the edge of awareness, struggling to stay conscious.
He didn’t know how long he sat like that, motionless, eyes closed, wrestling inside his head with his slack brain. Maybe a few seconds, maybe a few minutes. The sound of breaking glass and crunched metal kept ringing in his ears. His head was bursting with a searing pain, his senses dimmed. He felt dazed from the impact but also heavy and weary, as if only then the stress of the last eventful days started to take its toll on him. Despite all that, a sense of urgency bubbled inside him. A small voice niggled at the back of his mind, warning him of imminent danger. He knew he had to act fast. They had to get out of the car. Now.
Patrick listened. It was strangely quiet; except for the steady drumming of rain and the noises inside his head, he could hear nothing. No movement, no voices.
What had happened to Mike?
He forced his eyes open and looked towards the passenger seat.
Mike lay slumped across seat, his legs wedged sideways under the dashboard, his head and shirt smeared with blood. A lot of blood. Too much. He wasn’t moving.
‘Mike, come on, we need to get out of here.’ He shook Mike gently.
Nothing
. No response.
Alarmed, he leaned closer to check his pulse. His sweat-coated fingers found the right spot on the side of the neck just below the jaw line and pressed lightly. He sighed with relief when he felt it was there. Mike was alive but unconscious.
Not hesitating one moment, and ignoring the pain in his head, Patrick pushed his door open and stepped out into the slashing rain. He hurried around to the passenger side and pulled at the door handle. The door wouldn’t open. It was bent and jammed shut. Frustrated, he banged at it for a while, then again, pulled. Still it wouldn’t budge. It was pointless to insist, he thought. Pure waste of time. So he ran back to the driver’s side, glass crunching under his feet. He leaned across and grabbed Mike’s inert body, and tried to heave it out of the car. It proved to be quite a struggle to free him. He was much heavier than he imagined and totally unresponsive. Finally, with a lot of effort, Patrick managed to extract him and lay him down on the wet grass.
The exertion drained him, and so he stood still for a while, gasping for air. Contrary to his body, his mind was racing. They weren’t out of danger yet. They had to move further away from the car. He didn’t know if there was any risk of explosion but he wasn’t taking any chances. Besides, he wondered if the crazy driver was still close by. It was clear he had attempted to push them off the road deliberately. The possibility that he would follow them to the crash site didn’t seem farfetched. There was no way of knowing what he might do if he found them here. Gathering all his strength, he dragged Mike a few metres further away towards a sheltered spot where they would be safer in case of an explosion.
Before he pulled Mike deeper into the woods, he went back to the car and grabbed from the back seat their small overnight bags. They might need the stuff that was in them. He was about to get out when something caught his attention. His mobile. It lay on the floor by the driver’s seat. The screen was cracked. It must have glided out of his trouser pocket at the moment of impact and he’d stepped on it while he struggled to free Mike. He picked it up and pressed a few digits. It was dead.
