Текст книги "The Attic Room: A psychological thriller"
Автор книги: Linda Huber
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
Chapter Twenty-Three
Helplessness. The sensation fluttered round Nina’s head while nausea dragged at her gut. She was stuck in a car with her newly-found cousin, who was in the middle of a major breakdown – what the shit was she going to do? Her stomach cramping, she tried to steady herself, clutching the door and the side of her seat and hardly daring to breathe as Paul drove on, swerving round corners and flooring the accelerator on the straight. The engine howled and Nina was thrown from left to right, the seatbelt tearing repeatedly into the tender skin of her neck. They were in another housing estate now, quite a long way from the first one, and she hadn’t recognised any of the places they’d passed through. The streets became progressively dingier and more litter-strewn, and Nina breathed out as Paul was forced to slow down. At last he pulled up in front of a neglected semi, beer cans scattered across the pavement in front of the house. A fresh wave of dread broke over Nina as he switched the engine off and turned to her.
‘This isn’t a nice place, Nina, and I’m sorry. But no one’s going to think of looking for us here so it’s the best place to be.’
His voice was pitched higher than normal and it cracked on the last word. Nina’s throat closed in terror. She’d heard that voice before… The blackmailer on the phone was Paul. Shit, hell… Paul had taunted her and threatened Naomi… What on earth was he trying to do? She clenched her fists to stop her hands shaking.
With growing horror she realised there had never been a bomb, or a phone call from the police. It had been Paul, getting her – and the supposed money – out of the house and away with him. He must have made the call to John Moore’s phone from his mobile, right in front of her stupid nose while she was sitting on the sofa texting bloody smilies to Naomi. And then he’d gone out when Sabine answered the call… Nina bit back a moan. He must have hurt Sabine, knocked her out, or worse. And oh God – no one knew where they were… What a gullible cow she was, she’d believed every word he told her. But why was he doing this?
Paul undid both their seatbelts. ‘We’re going inside – and you’d better be quiet about it. Remember my gun.’
Nina said nothing, concentrating for the moment on not having hysterics. She had to get a grip; be in control – but how impossible that seemed now. Paul was waiting by the passenger seat door, and Nina was unable to prevent the shudder when he grasped her elbow and steered her towards the house. She stared round wildly, but no help was at hand. Apart from a little gang of hooded teenagers lingering raucously at the corner about thirty yards away, the street was empty of people.
‘Paul, please. Let’s talk. I’m sure can work something out.’ She tried her best to sound understanding and firm but it was impossible, her voice was shaking. He must know how afraid she was – hell, look at the expression on his face. What a bastard; he was enjoying her fear. That was what those madmen who abducted people got off on, wasn’t it? – the feeling of power over their victim.
He didn’t answer, and all she could do was stand and watch as he opened the shabby front door, revealing a narrow hallway. A stained and smelly carpet covered the floor and the walls were painted what had probably started out magnolia, but time and touch and cigarette smoke had transformed them into patchy grey and beige. Stairs, the carpeting worn bare in the centre of each tread, rose into darkness on the left, and the stench of poverty and squalor was rife.
Horrified, Nina stumbled as he pushed her inside. ‘Shit, what kind of place is this? Do you live here?’
His eyes were shining brightly, and yes, those were tears she saw there… maybe she could still get out of this. Hope swelled painfully in her head.
‘Of course not.’ The indignation in his voice would have been funny in other circumstances. He hustled her down the unlit passageway. ‘This is all your fault. You’ve ruined everything. I have spent months, Nina, years, doing research, looking for those scumbag paedos, and it was going so well until you arrived and got the police involved. I’ve met a lot of – undesirable people, shall we say, and this place belongs to one of them. Oh, don’t worry. He’s in prison. So we’ll be safe enough in the meantime and more importantly, no one will find us.’
Paul pushed her into the kitchen at the back of the house and Nina felt a hysterical urge to laugh. She hadn’t been impressed by John Moore’s kitchen, but this one was ten million times worse. It was indescribably filthy and apart from an ancient-looking gas cooker there were no appliances at all. A thick, pungent smell hung about the place and made her eyes water. It obviously hadn’t been lived in properly for a very long time. Paul pointed to a greasy wooden chair and Nina sat, shuddering. Her legs had lost their strength again.
Paul laughed mirthlessly. ‘Not quite up to your standards, is it?’ he said, the sneer in his voice increasing Nina’s fear.
She looked at him bleakly, unsure how to reply. This kitchen wasn’t up to anyone’s standards. Normal people didn’t live like this.
‘Paul – please tell me why you’re doing this. What do you mean, you were looking for paedos?’
Keep him talking, try to get him back on your side, Nina. It was as if her own voice was inside her head now, Christ, was she going mad too? But if he didn’t tell her there was no way she could help either of them. Hell, she didn’t even know if she wanted to help him after this, but she had to help herself because she had a daughter out there waiting for her. Naomi, Naomi baby, it’s going to be all right, please, it must be all right…
He slumped into a second chair and sat staring at her. ‘You really don’t know what you’ve done, do you?’ he said, his voice a strange mixture of regret and contempt.
Suddenly Nina was angry. ‘No, I don’t. From where I’m sitting I’ve done everything right. I was trying to cooperate with the police when I came up against what seemed to be criminal activity. So tell me what I did wrong.’
He was sitting with his hands in the pockets of his jerkin, but now he leaned towards her, his expression malevolent. Nina shrank back into her chair. She would have to be more careful what she said, it would be a mistake to anger him more than she had already. She listened, horror growing inside her as he spoke.
‘I’ve found them, Nina. Most of them. Those dirty old men who paid our dads for – us. I was made redundant last year and I went to your dad for money – I reckoned he owed it to me – and after a little persuasion he gave me what I needed. But it started me thinking, remembering what happened in that house. Those filthy pigs… so I started to look for them. Your dad – ’
Nina recoiled at his last words, he said them with such venom, and he was doing it to hurt her. She could tell by the way he watched her response and smiled briefly. There was no way she could keep the anguish from her face.
‘– your dad gave me some names, after a little more persuasion, and I looked them up. And you know what? All they wanted was to save their own disgusting skins. Every single one of them. It was child’s play to get money from them, but that wasn’t the best bit, oh no – I got to see them squirm. They were terrified their dirty little secret was going to come out, and they were all prepared to give me more names as well as hard cash. But I haven’t finished, Nina, there are two more I definitely remember doing vile things to me, and I haven’t found them yet. And you, stupid interfering madam that you are, have upset the whole bloody thing.’
Nina closed her eyes momentarily, overwhelmed by the mental picture of what had happened in the attic at the hands of these men.
‘And is money and seeing them squirm enough for you?’ she whispered.
He laughed again, he actually laughed at that, and Nina began to sob, she couldn’t help it. His laughter stopped as suddenly as it had begun.
‘Enough? Oh no – but you see I’m going to give their names to the papers. And my dad’s name too, and your dad’s, even though he’s out of it now. That way, the ones I haven’t found’ll still be terrified, like I – like we were, Nina. And it’s not just those creeps from your dad’s attic room I found. There are others, too, and some of them did a lot worse things to other kids, pretty little girls and nice little boys like you and I were. I confronted them too and got to see them squirm as well. I’m going to take all their money and then one day, when I’ve found a nice round number, maybe a hundred, maybe two, I’ll give every single name to the papers. Oh yes, that’ll be enough. One day. But for now you’ve buggered it all up.’
Nina stared bleakly. She was a victim of these crimes too. Was she to have no say in what they did with their abusers? Apparently not. But in an odd way she could even sympathise with Paul here.
‘If you give the police the names you have up to now they’ll be able to find the others.’
‘You might be right about that, little cousin. But that’s not what I want. I want to stand in front of these kiddy-fuckers first and watch the terror in their eyes. And I should be out looking for them before it’s too bloody late, not sitting in a disgusting kitchen talking to you.’
He stood up and rummaged in a cupboard under the sink, pulling out an old piece of rope. Panicking, Nina leapt to her feet and tried to run but he grabbed her arm and forced her to sit again. With all her strength she pushed against him, but he slapped her face with the rope and began to wind it round her middle, tying her to the chair.
‘Sit – still,’ he said, his voice hissing in her ear.
Nina flinched. She should do as she was told for the moment. She had to stay unharmed; if he injured her she might never be able to get out of here. Trembling, she sat enduring his touch as he went on to tie both her wrists to the struts where the back of the chair met the seat, and her ankles to the chair legs. Whistling between his teeth, he produced a rag, an old tea towel by the looks of it, and used it to gag her. By the smell it had been in contact with motor oil at some point and Nina spat and jerked her head away, but he was stronger. Saliva filled her mouth and the fumes from the rag made her eyes water; dear God, nothing in her life had ever been as disgusting as this.
When she was immobilised to his satisfaction he blinked down at her, and for a second she saw regret in his eyes.
‘What I have to do is keep the police occupied with you,’ he said. ‘If they’re looking for you they won’t be worrying about what my dad supposedly did, or even about sending bags of cash to the park tonight. Meantime, I’ll get on with looking for my last important two. I have to get them, Nina.’
Whistling again, he began to search through the cupboards. Nina was finding it impossible to breath calmly. The gag tasted gross, and it was cutting into the flesh at the corners of her lips. God knows what bacteria were swimming round in her mouth. Paul must be mad. Psychotic, whatever. His search for paedophiles had a terrible kind of logic, but why was he doing this to her? Why send the blackmail letters, why the phone calls? Maybe he’d thought she’d go running away home, leaving him to continue his ‘work’ in peace. But now? Holding her in a squalid kitchen was doing nothing to further his cause.
Nina writhed against her bonds; they were much too tight. She could feel blood pulsating in her wrists; it was agony... Hell, how long was he planning to keep her here? She stared at the floor, willing herself to stay calm. Naomi, baby, don’t worry, it’s going to be okay. But was it?
Paul was watching her, his expression mocking. ‘You had it all, you know. Your mam got you out, you had a good life. A proper home – a baby. And I know you might need a little persuasion to stay here and help me with this, so I’m going to fetch your baby,’ he said, his new high-pitched voice echoing round the bare kitchen. ‘Little Naomi, she’s always been able to wrap you round her little finger, hasn’t she? First I’ll go to the police and tell them we were both abducted but I managed to escape. You, unfortunately, weren’t so clever, and how would I know where they’ve taken you?’
Nina struggled to keep panic at bay. He mustn’t, he must not bring Naomi here. She moaned into the gag. What could she do now, what could she do to stop him?
Paul smiled, and Nina had to look away because oh, it was like something in a horror movie. His eyes were shining and his face didn’t belong to the man she had met just a few days ago.
‘First the police and then the hospital. The abductor had a knife, you see. A little realism’ll make sure they believe me. I need hospital treatment and that’s when I’ll go off by myself leaving them all looking for you on the Luton bypass, because that’s where we were heading when I managed to escape, isn’t it? And then I’ll go and comfort my poor little cousin Naomi, she must be so frightened without Mummy. You can stay here together. Searching for you will keep all those policemen so busy they won’t worry about what I’m doing, looking up those last two scumbags.’
He took a kitchen knife from a drawer and held it up to the light, watching it glint before stabbing it twice, viciously, into his lower arm. Nina gasped, the shock and the gag combined almost preventing her from breathing. Paul was mad. He would do anything. And shit, fuck…
Blackness swirled in front of Nina’s eyes. He was going to bring Naomi back here and she couldn’t stop him. So no way could she leave this house even if she did manage to get free. She’d have to wait in this awful place for Naomi… Dear God, what would this do to her little girl?
Paul wound a towel round his bloody arm. ‘You know, after what happened to me when I was a kid, nothing much hurts anymore.’ He bent over her and jerked the bonds on her wrists tighter still. White hot pain seared up Nina’s arms, and tears ran down both cheeks and soaked into the gag.
The front door slammed behind Paul, and she heard a key in the lock.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The car engine spluttered into life, then roared as Paul drove off. Nina slumped in her chair, but straightened immediately as the movement caused the rope to dig even more cruelly into her ribcage. Silence fell heavily in the dimness of the kitchen, and Nina closed her eyes, fighting dizziness.
Sweat broke out on her brow as she thought about Naomi. Her little girl was in danger. It was imperative to think carefully, plan what to do. But what could she do, tied to a kitchen chair in a house ‘somewhere near Bedford’? The horror of the situation threatened to overcome her, and she forced herself to breathe normally. Passing out here would help no one.
Come on, Nina. For a second she heard Claire’s voice in her ear, and it calmed her. And she needed to be calm, because nobody was going to come to this house to look for her. She would have to get free herself and phone David. Her mobile was still in her bag in Paul’s car, the first car, but even a house as squalid as this one might have a landline.
But supposing it didn’t?
Panic gained upper hand again, and for a few minutes Nina fought against the rope binding her to the chair, swearing frantically in her head as her efforts caused nothing but pain. The binds were unmoving and eventually she gave up and sat panting into the foul-tasting gag. Dear God – she could choke and die on her own saliva here. Why, why had she followed Paul so blindly when he’d yelled that a bomb was hidden in the house – idiot that she was, she had put her life and Naomi’s into the hands of a madman.
Right. It had happened and she had to do something; she couldn’t sit here till Paul came back with Naomi. She had to get out, get help, get away. If she didn’t she could lose everything, including Naomi, for God knows what Paul was capable of. Think, Nina.
The police would believe Paul when he went to them with his story. To them, he was a victim, not a violent psychopath. Unless – of course! The sudden hope was almost painful in its intensity, and Nina gasped aloud. John Moore’s landline was bugged. Paul’s call to lure Sabine to the phone would be traceable, so the police would know that he was mixed up in this even if Sabine was unable to tell them.
The moment of relief was short-lived as she realised that someone who was capable of successfully finding and blackmailing paedophiles would have thought of this and used an anonymous, prepaid phone. Nina gave way to the storm of sobs that shook her bruised body against the binds and the hard kitchen chair. Please God Cassie wouldn’t leave Naomi alone with Paul. Please God he wouldn’t hurt her girl.
The storm abated, and Nina gathered her strength for a new bid for freedom. She could not stay here on this chair in near darkness. Grubby windows only made the dimness more apparent, and Paul had switched the light off when he left. The yellow glow from a streetlight in the lane behind the house was only illuminating the area of kitchen nearest to the window.
If she could find the knife that Paul stabbed himself with and somehow jam it in somewhere, she could maybe rub the bonds on her arms against the blade. It was worth a try, anyway.
By jerking one side of her body she was able to move the chair a few millimetres. The friction of the rope on her wrists was agonizing after a mere handful of jerks, but there was no other way.
Frustration filled Nina’s mind as the chair turned oh, so slowly until she was facing the sink and the drawer where Paul had found the knife. She would have to cross three metres of disgusting floor to reach it. Time after time she jerked her body forward, and gradually the chair moved. The tiles were old, old lino, and some were loose, which didn’t make her journey any easier. After every five jerks she awarded herself two quiet, steady breaths. The little routine helped her carry on. It was five lashes of the whip, followed by two recovery strokes, again, and again, and again.
Tears of desperation and pain were trickling down Nina’s face long before she got to her destination. Blood from her wrists ran down her hands, warm and sticky, and the mixture of tears and saliva soaking into the foul-tasting gag made it more obnoxious by the second.
One last jerk brought her to the drawer. She could see the glint of metal; there would be a knife in there.
There was. Several painful moments of pushing and shoving with her right arm opened the drawer enough to reveal an unsavoury collection of cutlery, including a couple of sharp knives. The problem was she couldn’t get at them. There was no way she could lift anything out with her elbow, and she wasn’t able to bend her head far enough to get into the drawer with her nose and chin. For long, demoralising minutes she tried, thinking, shit, this has to work, I’ve come all the way from the table and it was so bloody painful, I deserve it to work. But it was hopeless. In a fit of rage, she pushed against the sink unit with all the strength in her right arm.
The chair creaked and moved, then the backrest parted company with the seat and Nina fell. Her head hit something cold and hard, and briefly she saw stars.
Winded, she lay still, then hope surged through her… if she wriggled a bit she could free her right wrist… yes… one good pull – yes! Her right hand was free.
Barely taking time to catch her breath, Nina pushed up into a half-sitting position, yanked her left hand free and tugged the gag from her mouth before sliding over to the drawer for a knife to cut the rope from her feet.
She was free. Thank Christ. Nina leaned on the sticky sink unit taking deep breaths of revolting air. Both wrists were bleeding, but the wounds were superficial. Her ankles were okay, her jeans and socks had saved them from the worst of the chaffing. She couldn’t move, though – her feet had gone to sleep and were tingling back to life. It hurt almost as much as the bonds had.
Come on, Nina, she thought savagely. You can be a wimp later. You have to call the police.
A quick check through the downstairs rooms revealed no phone and Nina moaned aloud. The only other option was to go to a neighbour for help, but would they help her if she did? What kind of people lived round here?
Loneliness swept through her as she realised that she couldn’t risk it. But Paul had driven past a row of shops on the way here. She would find them, get someone there to call the police for her, and then come back in case he returned with Naomi.
Nina ran to the front door and jerked it open, stopping dead on the threshold as the sound of rough voices yelling obscenities came from her left. Shit, kids were fighting round the corner. She could hear thuds and screams and the sound of glass breaking. She would go right, then, as fast as she could. No sooner had she made this decision than a crowd of youths appeared from the right too, and Nina slid back into the house and closed the door. It sounded like hell out there. Maybe, if she was lucky, the police would come to break up the fight.
More youths were careering down the street now, and Nina went to look out the back, but yobs were racing along the lane there too. She stood at the front room window – the fight itself was out of sight, but there was a lot of running about and shouting, and the occasional tinkle of glass breaking. Surely someone must have phoned the police, even here. The arrival of a police car would be the answer to her prayers.
The fight continued, more and more kids joining in. And still no police – wait – there was a car coming… Nina’s hopes rose, then plummeted.
Hot frustration filled her as she watched Paul park in front of the house and stride up the path, a plastic bag in one hand. He was accosted by a tall youth, who ran up screaming something, and to Nina’s horror her cousin pulled out a gun. The youth backed away, hands raised in the best Wild West fashion, and ran off down the road.
Nina leaned against the living room doorway as Paul entered the house. She would show him she wasn’t afraid. But she was afraid, she was terrified she wouldn’t get out of here alive. But at least Paul was alone; he hadn’t got Naomi yet.
‘Aren’t you the clever one, all untied and making yourself at home.’ He waved the gun at her. ‘Good job I have this, that’s a nice little war going on out there.’
He had a large bandage on his left arm, clearly a professional job. Nina felt sick with dread. Had he managed to get hold of Naomi after all – was her daughter locked up somewhere else? Horror chilled its way into her very soul. There was no point in asking; he could tell her anything and she wouldn’t know if it was the truth or not. But she had to show she wasn’t beaten.
‘Paul – we need to get out of this situation. Let’s work out what I can do to help you.’
His eyes were bright. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. You and Naomi – especially Naomi – will be the perfect bait for my poor innocent victims.’
Nina’s mouth went dry. He gestured with the gun in the direction of the kitchen.
‘What do you mean?’
He gave her a little push towards the kitchen and she walked in front of him, only just managing to breathe normally. But panic would help no one. He grabbed her shoulder from behind and forced her down on the one remaining chair.
‘We could get them easily, Nina. Nice pic of Naomi on the right websites and they’ll be queuing up to get her.’
‘I hope you’re joking,’ said Nina, determinedly calm. He laughed, and she slumped in the chair. It was no use; he was playing with her. All that effort had been for nothing – she had failed. Dear God, would she ever see her little girl again? She offered no resistance as he lifted the rope from the floor and bound her hands in front of her. When he was satisfied she wouldn’t be able to use them he grunted, and Nina smelled both beer and curry on his breath. She let her own breath out slowly. No way could she be sick here.
‘Well, the police are busy searching for you a long, long way away,’ he said, taking a can of beer from his bag. ‘And your boyfriend’s with them. Seems a pity really, all that effort for nothing. But they’re all very concerned about you. I’ve told them everything I know and I’ve been sent home to rest; they won’t be looking for me till nine tomorrow when I have to go and make a statement. But I’ll pop round and get Naomi first. That old couple won’t be able to stop me. Nice little dog they have, but it isn’t what you’d call a Rottweiler, is it?’
Nina’s mouth went dry. He’d found out where the Harrisons lived and gone to have a look at the place. She spat the words at him before she could think. ‘Leave Naomi alone. You don’t need to involve her in this.’
He ignored this. ‘As soon as she’s safely here I’ll get her pic on the web, along with one of me when I was a nice little kid too, and go on with my search. Shit, Nina, I wish you’d stayed away from Bedford and left me in peace to do this.’
How she wished that too, but Nina said nothing more. He didn’t have Naomi yet. There was still time to escape.
‘Right. Upstairs,’ he said roughly, pulling her to her feet.
Nina’s gut went into a painful spasm. Was this when he raped her?
He manhandled her up the stairs and into the largest room. A stained and smelly double mattress was the only piece of furniture, and Nina was hard put not to moan. Paul kicked his shoes off. He made no attempt to touch her inappropriately, though he stood outside the disgusting toilet while she used it, then made her lie beside him on the mattress and bound her left foot to his right. Nina couldn’t stop the shudders as she lay there, Paul’s leg warm against her own.
‘Sweet dreams!’ he said mockingly, and placed the gun inside his trousers.
