Gripping Thrillers

by Iain Rob Wright

  Andrew stood rooted in the doorway, unsure how to proceed. When Frankie pulled out a flick knife and released the blade, the decision was obvious. He slammed shut the front door and locked it as quickly as he could. Then he called the police.

  Frankie had stood outside the house for almost ten minutes, screaming threats and vowing that Andrew would pay for what he’d done. Bex and Pen were both in tears by the time he finally went away. Five minutes later, the police arrived and were now sitting in the living room again. It was the same two officers, Dalton and Wardsley.

  “He actually threatened your life,” asked Wardsley.

  Andrew nodded. “Several times. My entire family heard him. Then he pulled a knife on me.”

  “Okay. I think we have good reason to go and ask this Frankie a few questions now.”

  “Questions,” said Andrew, leaning forward in his armchair. “I want you to do more than that. He’s a danger to society.”

  Wardsley nodded. “I understand you want something done, sir. Believe me, we’ll be arresting him and holding him overnight. We’ll do what we can to get him in front of a judge, but…”

  Andrew nodded. “But he’ll be back on the street in twenty-four hours, regardless.”

  Dalton took over for her partner. “Exactly. I’m afraid that’s the system. The burden of proof is on the victim, not the offender. He’ll be free until convicted.”

  Andrew flopped back in his chair. All the times he had dismissed conservative claims that there was too little justice in the British prosecution system and it turns out they were right. There was no justice. Andrew’s family were being terrorised, and the system would do nothing to immediately protect them. Andrew didn’t blame the two police officers in his living room. They’d let down their impersonal barriers since the last time they’d visited and seemed genuinely sympathetic now. Andrew imagined they were just as frustrated by their lack of power as he was. Their jobs were to give a court ammunition, but courts were slow and indifferent.

  “Look,” said Andrew. “What the hell should I do?”

  “Do you have anyone you can stay with?” Dalton asked.

  Andrew shrugged. “I guess. Pen’s parents could have us for a while, but how does that help in the long run?”

  “It will just be until we bring Frankie in front of a judge.”

  “But you don’t think I have much of a case. Not enough evidence.”

  PC Dalton bit at her lip before sighing. “All you have is threats. It’s not enough. The Forensics didn’t find much either, I’m afraid.”

  “So, what then?”

  The two officers thought for a moment. Eventually it was Dalton who said something. “Look,” she said. “I’ll make a phone call to the Super and see what we can do. I would strongly suggest leaving in the morning and going somewhere else for a while. In the meantime, we’ll get this piece of scum off the streets and make it clear to him that we’re watching his every move.”

  “And will you be?” asked Andrew.

  Dalton shrugged. “I’ll request a plain-clothes to be stationed in the area. Hopefully, if we supervise Frankie’s movements long enough, we’ll catch him doing something illegal.”

  Andrew felt himself relax, tension flooding out of his bones in great heaps. Someone being nearby watching over his family was exactly what he wanted. If Frankie tried anything else, there would be a witness–a police witness.

  “Thank you,” said Andrew, standing up and offering out his hand. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. It’s such a relief.”

  The police officers stood up, and Wardsley shook his hand. “Don’t get too excited just yet. We’ll fight a good case for you, but it’s not our decision at the end of the day.”

  Andrew nodded. “Okay, but you’ll let me know?”

  “Of course, but you should stay somewhere else in the meantime, until we figure things out. Even if we do get a man put on Frankie, it will still take a couple of days.”

  “Well, you have my thanks just for doing anything at all. I was beginning to think that I’d never get help.”

  Wardsley seemed a little irritated by his comment, but Andrew felt it was fair and didn’t apologise for it.

  “We do our best Mr Goodman, but we can only do as the law allows. We’ll let ourselves out.”

  Andrew nodded and stood aside. He was too relieved to feel guilty for offending the officers. In his opinion, it wasn’t asking too much for a little help from the police service–but again, he reminded himself that it was likely not their fault.

  He turned back into the living room and found Pen and Bex standing there. Obviously they’d been eavesdropping from the kitchen.

  Pen put her arms around him and squeezed tight. “That’s a relief, ay?”

  Andrew hugged her right back and kissed the top of her forehead. “Yeah, maybe we can go back to normal now. I’ll call work and get a few days off. They won’t like it but tough-titties. We’ll go stay with your parents till the end of next week. Then we’ll come home and play things by ear.”

  “A whole week with Nan and Granddad,” said Bex with a frown. “Seriously?”

  Andrew stuck out his tongue playfully. “You’ll live. They don’t see enough of you anyway. We can sit around in our PJs all day watching horror movies if you want.”

  “You don’t like horror movies. They scare you.”

  Andrew nodded. “After this week, I think real life is scarier.”

  “No one is lazing around in their PJs,” said Pen. “I don’t want my parents thinking we’re a bunch of slobs. We can go on some daytrips. Leicester zoo is a nice afternoon out. They have a silverback gorilla there called Nero.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” said Andrew. “Guess we should go pack.”

  Pen laughed and walked toward the kitchen. “At least let me go call them first. They might not have us.”

  “Here’s hoping,” said Bex.

  Andrew slapped his daughter on the bum. “Behave.”

  Bex held up her hands in two fists. “You don’t got what it takes to beat me, old man. You’re nothing but a lousy bum.”

  Andrew grinned. “You reckon?”

  Bex nodded and giggled.

  “We’ll see about that.” Andrew lunged for his daughter, making her shriek and run upstairs in a fit of giggles. A minute later her dreadful pop music came on her stereo and thudded through the living room ceiling. Looked like things were back to normal already.

  There were no guarantees that his encounters with Frankie were truly over, but at least now there would be consequences if he were to try anything else. At least for the next week-and-a-half they would be away from the worry. Hopefully his bosses would understand. The project he was working on could wait a little while longer.

  Best I call them now, Andrew thought, heading for the phone in the kitchen. Pen intercepted him on her way out and put her hand up to stop him.

  “I’m just going to call the firm,” he told her, wondering why she had blocked his path.

  She shook her head. “The phone isn’t working.”

  Andrew wrinkled his brow. “Really? Let me have a look.”

  The two of them went into the kitchen and Andrew headed over to the fridge. On the wall beside it was the cordless phone in its cradle. Andrew plucked the handset free and held it to his ear.

  Nothing.

  There was no dial tone at all. He keyed in some numbers to see if they made any noise on the line. They did not.

  Andrew placed the handset back down and tried to figure it out. First he checked that the phone line was connected into the cradle and found that it was. Next he decided to verify that the phone line was connected at the wall output. He followed the cream-coloured wire downwards towards the floor and then began tracing it along the skirting board. The wire disappeared behind the fridge, but he found it coming out the other side. It was on the other side of the fridge that Andrew discovered the reason why the phone was no longer working.

  “The line’s been c
ut.”

  Pen looked at him blankly, then down at the skirting board. “What? How?”

  Andrew stared at the frayed wire and could think of only one reason. “We need to get out of here now. Frankie’s been inside the house again.”

  “What? You think he did this?”

  “Look at the wire, Pen. It didn’t cut itself!”

  Pen went white; a ghostly pallor consuming her usually flushed features. “Where’s your mobile? Call the officers, they only just left.”

  Andrew nodded and rushed back into the living room. His phone was on the coffee table. He’d put it there when the officers had been questioning him. When he went for it, he found that it was gone. Not only was his phone missing, but also the coffee table it had been sitting on was now upended.

  Pen came up behind him a little too close and made him flinch. He turned to her and put his hands on each of her shoulders. “You, me, and Rebecca are getting in the car right now. He’s in the house.”

  Pen nodded and followed him without argument as he rushed across the living room. “Rebecca,” he shouted in the hallway. “Get down here now.”

  There was no reply.

  Panic blasted through Andrew’s veins.

  There was a knock at the front door.

  Andrew stared at his wife, who stared back at him like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a speeding truck. She spoke. “It could be the police. They only just left.”

  Andrew considered the possibility and decided it was viable.

  The door knocked again.

  Andrew looked back up the stairs. “Bex, are you up there?”

  Still no answer.

  Andrew made a decision and entered the porch, opened the front door.

  It was not the police officers that were standing there.

  Two black youths stood in front of Andrew, identical in appearance. The twins from Frankie’s gang. A voice came from behind him and he spun around. Frankie stood at the top of the stairs, holding Bex around the throat from behind. She was shaking and sobbing.

  “Call the cops on me? Big mistake.” Frankie pushed Bex forward. Her bare feet found nothing but air and she fell, hitting the steps and tumbling awkwardly to the bottom. There was the sickening sound of something snapping.

  Before Andrew had a chance to react, something struck the back of his head, and his world went dark.

  11

  Davie followed Dom and Jordan into the house with Michelle trailing behind them. Frankie was already inside, standing over the unconscious bodies of both Andrew and his daughter. The mother was screaming out hysterically for help.

  “Sort that bitch out, will ya?”

  Davie realised that Frankie was talking to him, but found himself unable to do anything other than just stand there with his mouth agape.

  Frankie pushed him. “Sort the bitch out now, before she brings attention.”

  “W-what you want me to do?”

  Frankie shook his head impatiently. “What you think I want you to do, you mug? Take her into the living room and shut her goddamn mouth.”

  Davie nodded and took the woman away, holding her gently by the arm. She didn’t struggle, but neither did she cease her screaming. They entered the living room, and he eased her down onto the couch.

  “You gotta be quiet,” he told her in what he hoped was a soothing voice. “Frankie will kick off if you don’t.”

  The woman carried on shouting out for help, but slowly her words were becoming a continuous, garbled slur. Gradually her volume lowered.

  Davie patted her on the back. “That’s it. Just try to calm down. Would you like a cup of tea?”

  Frankie entered the room. “You kidding me? Why don’t you bake her a cake as well.”

  Davie stood up and faced his brother. “I’m just trying to calm her down. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

  “Just keep an eye on her.”

  Davie nodded and sat back down beside the woman. Frankie moved behind an armchair in the room and shoved it forward along the carpet. Then he went and drew the curtains shut and turned down the lights with the dimmer switch.

  “There,” said Frankie. “The mood is set. Bring ‘em in, lads.”

  Dom and Jordan entered the room, dragging Andrew and Bex along the floor. Andrew had woken slightly since Dom had struck him in the back of the head, but was still pretty much out of it, eyes swirling around in their sockets and unable to focus.

  “Get him up onto the armchair,” said Frankie. “Come on, come on.”

  Dom and Jordan hoisted Andrew up onto the armchair and propped up his head, which kept sagging against his chest.

  “Where’s the tape?” asked Frankie. His twitch was acting up.

  Dom and Jordan both shrugged in unison; the fact that they were twins making it look like some weird double-act. “Think Shell has it,” said Jordan.

  Frankie shook his head and cursed beneath his breath. “Michelle! Get your skinny ass in here.”

  It was a couple of minutes before she appeared, but when she did, Davie saw that she did indeed have the thick roll of silver duct tape in her hand.

  Frankie snatched it from her. “What the hell were you doing?”

  Michelle shrugged her bony shoulders. “Just having a look around. There’s some nice stuff in the girl’s room. Look.” She held up her right hand, which now sported a shiny gem on the ring finger. “Bet it belonged to her Nan or something. Sad bitch keeps a diary too; had a quick read, and it was hilarious. Says she’s still afraid of the dark.”

  “Very nice,” said Frankie in a way that made it clear he didn’t give a shit. He turned to Andrew and pointed. “Dom, get this fucker strapped up. I want him to be nice and comfortable when we get the party started. He’ll have the best seat in the house.”

  Davie sat silently on the sofa, wondering what his brother meant. He had a feeling that whatever he thought would not be as bad as whatever Frankie actually had in mind. In a competition for sickest imagination, Davie’s big brother won every time.

  Dom finished taping up Andrew just as he started to stir from unconsciousness. A thin stream of drool fell from his mouth and pooled on the tape that secured his midsection to the chair.

  “Wakey wakey, rise and shine,” said Frankie, laughing at himself afterwards. “I was wondering if Dom had ended you with the smack he gave you. Glad he didn’t, as this will be a whole lot more fun with you alive.”

  Andrew managed to lift his head and look Frankie in the eyes. “W-what… are you going to do?”

  Frankie leaned forward so that his eye line matched Andrew’s own. “Tell the truth, I haven’t decided yet. Don’t you worry, though. It’s going to be a good crack.”

  Andrew’s wife whimpered and Davie patted her on the back again to quiet her down.

  “Why are you doing this to us, you… you monster?” Andrew managed to ask.

  “Not us,” said Frankie. “I’m doing this to you. The ladies are just unlucky to be involved with you. Collateral damage, is that what they say?”

  “So why… are you doing this to me?”

  Frankie shrugged. “I don’t like your face.”

  Andrew shook his head and another sliver of drool escaped his mouth. “There must be a reason.”

  Frankie swung his arm and struck Andrew in his ribs. His wife cried out while he cried inwards, sucking in a breath and finding himself unable to let it out again. Frankie grabbed a bunch of his hair and lifted his head to face him. “Shut it.”

  “Leave him alone,” Andrew’s wife screamed before Davie had a chance to stop her.

  Frankie glared. “Or else what, bitch?”

  “My name is not bitch. It’s Penelope, and you’re nothing but a pathetic bully.”

  Frankie looked around the room, mock offended. Everyone laughed hysterically. “Check this one out. Ten seconds ago she was behaving quite nicely and being a good girl. Now she’s grown a big fat set of balls. You want to take me on, sweetheart?”

  “Just be qui
et,” Davie whispered in the mother’s ear.

  “That’s it,” said Frankie. “Listen to my baby brother. He’ll keep you safe.”

  Michelle sidled up to Frankie and draped herself on him. Davie could tell that she’d snorted a line of coke recently. Her eyes were bloodshot and wide as dinner plates, while her lips constantly puckered as though she had a mouth full of ash. “What’s the plan then, honey?” she asked. “We gunna party, or what?”

  Frankie kissed her hard on the mouth and then pushed her down onto the sofa beside Penelope. “Yeah, baby. It’s going to get real, but we have all night, so just settle in and get some gear on the go.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” said Dom, hopping up and down. Jordan was in agreement and slapped his twin on the back.

  “Before we do that, though,” said Frankie. “Let’s get the women-folk sorted. Last thing we need is them getting away.” He turned to Davie. “Get the old bird taped up, little bro.”

  Davie stared at his brother to make sure he was serious. “She won’t do anything, Frankie. I’ll watch her.”

  Frankie grabbed the tape off Dom and threw it at Davie. “I’m getting real sick of your arguing, man. Just do what I’m telling you and tape the old bag up.”

  Davie stared at his brother a while longer, but realised he was pushing Frankie’s patience, so he turned away and pulled off a strip of tape. “I’m sorry,” he told Penelope, and then began to tape her up.

  She didn’t resist, but the whole time he wrapped the tape around her she looked at him with utter hatred. It made Davie feel wretched inside. As soon as he was done, he stood up and moved over to his brother who was peeking out of a gap in the curtains.

  “What you want, little bro?” Frankie asked as Davie approached. He didn’t turn away from the window.

  “How you know it was me?”

  “Cus it seems like lately every time I turn around you’re on my back.”

  “Just looking out for you.”

  Frankie let the curtain go and turned around. “I know you are. You’re my blood, bro, and that means more than anything. But you keep riding me, and we gunna have a problem. You get me?”