Текст книги "The Attic Room: A psychological thriller"
Автор книги: Linda Huber
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 17 страниц)
Chapter Twenty-Five
Claire’s story – Glasgow
Claire stood in the doorway, her eyes roving the six-bedded bay. The smell and the atmosphere here were almost identical to those in another hospital almost twenty years ago, and for a second the past shimmered in front of her. It was noisier here, with visitors round nearly every bed and children running up and down the corridor. The event she’d been anticipating for months had happened.
Nina was lying on top of a bed by the window, eyes closed. Beside the bed was one of those see-through hospital baby cribs, and in it lay Claire’s brand-new granddaughter.
For a moment Claire stood motionless, emotion making it difficult to breath. This was the next generation of her family. In spite of her fears time was passing and life was going on, and in a sudden flash of understanding she realised she had no control, she had never had control, that things happened and would continue to happen in their own momentum. Worrying made no difference.
Her eyes fixed on the baby, she crept over to the crib. Nina didn’t waken, but the baby’s eyes were open. She looked exactly as Nina had the day after she was born. Claire pulled up a blue hospital chair, and for a long moment she and the baby held each other’s gaze. Claire could feel the smile on her face spread to become joy in her heart.
But how angry she’d been when Nina told her she was pregnant. Still a teenager, not even finished her course yet, unmarried, though that didn’t count for anything these days. Claire couldn’t understand how the girl had been so foolhardy. It wasn’t as if they’d never discussed birth-control.
Nina brought up her pregnancy quite casually over coffee one Friday when she was back on Arran to celebrate Bethany’s birthday. Claire was completely gobsmacked – this kind of thing happened to other people’s kids, not her sensible, hard-working daughter.
‘What are you going to do?’ she demanded, and Nina raised her eyebrows.
‘I’m going to have a baby, what do you think I’m going to do?’ she replied defiantly. ‘Okay, it wasn’t planned but we’ll manage, Mum. When my course is finished I’ll get a job and find day care. Alan’ll help, too. We’re looking for a flat.’
Claire liked Alan, but he wasn’t much older than Nina and was in the middle of a degree in business studies. It was a chaotic situation if ever she’d seen one. She watched helplessly as her daughter moved into student digs with Alan, only to move out again four months later and heavily pregnant. So there wasn’t going to be a happy end with wedding cake and confetti.
Nina stirred on the bed and opened her eyes. Another lump came into Claire’s throat. All the joy in the world was right there on Nina’s face, and Claire knew she should show her own delight. For shame, she chided herself. Misery-guts. Try to be happy for once in your life.
‘Hello love,’ she said, leaning forward to grasp Nina’s hand. ‘And congratulations, she’s just gorgeous.’ Her voice trembled, and she could see happy tears in Nina’s eyes too.
‘Thanks, Mum. Do you want to hold her?’
A few moments later Claire was sitting with her granddaughter in her arms. How well she remembered the time when Nina was tiny; Lily had come to London and they’d had a positive orgy of baby-worship. Those were the days of effortless happiness, and how very much she wanted to feel like that again, for this new little girl.
Claire came to a decision. She would let the past go, because she had to. The past was unchangeable, and the future was uncontrollable. She would live today and be happy. Misery-guts adieu, Claire.
Decision made, Claire smiled across at Nina. The family had grown, there were three generations again. Claire kissed the baby’s head. Whichever way you looked at it, she was rich as a king today.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Wednesday 26th July
Nina jerked awake. What the hell – she was – oh God, she was still stuck in this awful house and Paul was snoring beside her. How unbelievable, she had actually slept here. Her gut cramped and she lay still, panting in shallow breaths until the spasm passed. Thank Christ she hadn’t woken him. Moving as slowly as she could, she turned her head to look round the room. A heavy blue curtain was pulled across the window, but she could see it was pretty light outside.
Fear was sharpening her brain; she was wide awake now. She had to get out of here, and without disturbing Paul. Ignore the rumblings and twitches in her gut, she inched gingerly away from the malodorous body beside her, taking great care not to move her left foot. Paul’s breathing didn’t change, and Nina lay motionless, planning furiously. She had to free her foot. Slowly, slowly, she pulled herself into a sitting position, listening all the time to Paul’s breathing. It didn’t change.
The rope was greasy and difficult to loosen with tied hands but at last she felt it slacken. Squinting at Paul and holding her breath, she pulled her foot from the noose. Hah! She was free.
The snoring continued, and Nina rolled over until she was crouching beside the mattress. If the floor creaked now she’d be done for. Slow-motion, nice and easy, Nina, whatever you do, don’t wake him.
Testing the floor at every step, she crept to the door and inched it open. Out on the landing she paused. Should she make a run for it – or creep downstairs one step at a time? Fear was screaming at her to run, quick, as fast as she could, but her head insisted on caution. She inched down the stairs, stepping on the edge of every second tread only, gripping the greasy bannister and going as fast as she dared.
The bottom tread creaked and Nina froze, but no howl of rage came from the bedroom. She scurried through to the kitchen and seized a knife from the drawer, still half-open after her efforts last night. Jamming it between her knees, she rubbed her bound wrists along the blade. A few good sawing movements and she was free. Right. Quick, quick. Hush to the door, and run, Nina, run, as far away from here as you can get.
Fingers trembling, she eased the front door open and squeezed out, the rope burns on her wrists stinging in the coolness of the summer morning. The contrast between the stench in the house and the early-morning air hit her like something solid, but there was no time to stand around taking deep breaths. Away, away; she had to get back to Naomi. Please God her baby was safe in bed at Cassie’s and not tied up in some other hell-hole of Paul’s.
Stumbling down the path, she came to the next hurdle. The creaky gate had fallen shut. With the bedroom window tilted and facing this way, she couldn’t possibly risk opening it. Jagged branches tore at her clothes and scratched her hands as she forced her way through the hedge – which way now, which way? Nina trembled in silent frustration. She had no idea, but Paul’s car was facing right so she turned left and started to jog along the uneven pavement.
The street was deserted; why was no one up yet? Didn’t they have jobs to go to? The combatants of the previous evening were gone, but shards of glass on the pavement marked where the fight had been. And dear God, look at the blood in the gutter. Where the hell was she, anyway? Dilapidated houses and litter-strewn side streets loomed up as she continued down the road. In a different area she could have knocked at someone’s door and asked for help, but not here.
Her heart gave a great leap at the next corner. Yes! Oh, thank God. They had driven down here yesterday. About two hundred metres up this road was a roundabout, and if she turned right there she’d soon be in a more civilised area; she was so nearly safe. Run, Nina, run…
A loose paving stone wobbled under her foot and she stumbled, her stomach cramping yet again. The thought of Naomi spurred her on, her breath ragged in her ears. The next street she crossed was wider. Hallelujah, there were the shops she’d remembered seeing yesterday. Maybe –
Hope plummeted. None were open yet – but she was nearly at the roundabout now. She would flag down a car. That would be safer than knocking at one of these shabby, anonymous doors. Please God she would find someone respectable, some woman driver who would call the police for her. She had so nearly made it, help was within grasping distance.
The sound of her own heavy breathing meant she didn’t hear the car behind her till it drew level. Nina jerked to a halt, dizzy with horror, gaping helplessly as Paul wound down the window; he was laughing, oh God how horrible. This was a hideous caricature of the gentle, shy man who had greeted her the first time on the doorstep of John Moore’s house. He leaned out the window and Nina moaned.
‘Race you to Naomi!’ he yelled gleefully, and gunned the car towards the roundabout.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Wednesday 26th July
Horror chilling through her, Nina stood motionless as Paul’s car circumnavigated three-quarters of the roundabout and disappeared. Her feet felt as if they were stuck to the ground. It took a huge effort to wrench them free and run on. Naomi must still be at Cassie and Glen’s; I’m coming, baby, stay safe, Mummy’s on her way.
Pain stabbing through her cramped leg muscles, Nina staggered towards the roundabout. No one at all was about, and shit, she needed help. Right now. But the buildings to her right looked like warehouses, and the one across the road was a derelict factory. For a second her feet faltered – should she go back and risk knocking on someone’s door? No – onwards was best; a car must come soon, she would flag it down. The thought of Paul speeding towards Naomi spurred her exhausted legs on.
The first car to approach blared its horn and swerved round her when she jumped into the road and tried to wave it down. Bastards. They must have seen that she was in trouble. But of course in an area like this it was equally likely she was out to rob them. Another car was approaching and she waved even more frantically.
The car stopped, and a dark male face glared out, a painful reminder that Sam must be worried sick.
‘Please. I need help. Can you phone the police for me?’ Her voice sounded ragged.
The man in the car laughed scornfully. ‘Yeah, right,’ he said, and skidded off like Paul had.
Nina swore. Time, time, she didn’t have it. Paul would soon be at Cassie’s, and God knows what he’d do when he got there. She had never felt so impotent. It was like one of those nightmares where you keep running and running and it’s so important that you arrive somewhere on time, but you can’t find the way…
The third car stopped too, and Nina gasped in relief when she saw two women in the front. Panting, she repeated her plea. The woman in the passenger seat raised her eyebrows.
‘Police? Why?’ Her face was reluctant but not hostile, and Nina bent till she was level with the women.
‘My cousin’s driven off to get my little girl and I’m afraid he’ll hurt her.’ It was difficult not to scream at the women, but that would certainly frighten them off. ‘Please. Do you have children?’ she added, and the women glanced at each other.
‘Your cousin from round here?’ asked the driver, and Nina felt like shaking them both.
‘No, but he kept me in an empty house here overnight. I’ve just got out. Please, phone the police for me. My name’s Nina Moore. Please.’
Again the women exchanged looks, and the driver gave a slight nod. Her companion reached into a bag at her feet and produced a mobile. Nina stood panting. Thank God. Help would soon be on its way. The woman pursed her lips at Nina before punching out 999.
‘I guess I need police. Crazy woman here called Nina Moore wants help. At the Leeway roundabout.’ She disconnected and dropped the phone back into her bag. ‘They’re comin’,’ she said, winding the window up again. ‘And we’re goin’.’
The car jerked as the driver slammed the gearstick in and drove off. Nina sank to her knees on the dirty pavement. Oh God. She had no way to tell if the woman really had called the police. And even if she had, they still didn’t know to protect Naomi. Should she stop another car?
But the next two cars didn’t stop and after that there was a lull. Nina trudged towards the roundabout. She had failed. Paul would have reached Cassie’s by this time. All she could hope was that Naomi would be asleep in bed. And she might be, she wasn’t an early riser. But then again, if Paul rang the bell and introduced himself, there was no reason for Cassie and Glen not to believe whatever he told them, even if they did know by this time that Nina was missing. After all, Naomi knew Paul. Worst case, Sam’s parents might even waken Naomi and bundle her into Paul’s car.
Nina stood at the roundabout, dry sobs mixed with shivers shaking her body. She had never felt so out of control and so – beaten. Nobody stopped to help her; there were no good Samaritans at the Leeway roundabout this morning and dear God, she was so dead. What would Paul do with Naomi? He would be furious that Nina had escaped, Christ, it would be all too easy for a grown man who was mad and hurt and unhappy to take out his frustration on a small girl… Please God he won’t hurt Naomi… Nina buried her face in her hands. If the woman had called the police they should be here any second, surely. But it was another five minutes before she saw a blue light flashing in the distance, swooping up to stop beside her.
‘Christ, Nina.’ David Mallony was out of the passenger seat and helping her into the back before Nina could draw breath.
‘Paul. He’s gone to Cassie Harrison’s to get Naomi,’ she whispered, and David pulled out his radio.
The car sped off, Nina slumped in the back seat. She had done all she could, but – would it be enough? Naomi was still in grave danger… David was here; she wasn’t alone any more – more than that, she was safe – but how unimportant that was beside what could be happening to her child. Nina sat shaking, taking noisy, painful breaths, unable to stop her teeth chattering.
David clicked his radio off and turned to her. ‘They’re onto it. Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?’
Nina shook her head. ‘Sabine?’ she whispered again. It was easier than talking.
‘Alive but unconscious. She has a serious head injury, but she’s stable,’ said David. ‘Nina, tell me everything.’
In a few short sentences Nina covered the horror of the past several hours. Unfortunately she hadn’t noticed what make either of Paul’s cars were, all she could say was that the first was silver and possibly an Opel, and the second light green metallic. She described the house she’d been held in, then listened while David passed on the information over his radio. And all the time she was trembling so hard it was painful, and her breath was burning in her throat.
Bedford town centre didn’t look as if anything untoward had ever happened there, and Nina gazed out at now-familiar streets, willing the car to drive faster. She felt as if an elastic band at breaking point was holding her gut together. Soon, soon she would know if Naomi was safe; this not knowing was the worst, the most terrible thing. She had tried so hard, but it might all have been too late.
The minute the car stopped at the police station Nina scrambled out to see if there was any news. Sam was waiting outside the door, and he seized her and hugged her hard and God, how awful she looked and she stank too, she knew she did, of that terrible house and all the stress and sweat, but Sam was holding her as if he’d never let her go.
‘Naomi?’ she said into his chest. She felt his body tense up and pulled away to see his face.
‘Nina, we’ll find her,’ he said, but his voice was dull.
Oh God. Darkness swirled. But she’d known really… Naomi… her baby. The elastic band broke and Nina retched painfully then swallowed burning saliva.
David Mallony finished talking to another police officer, then strode across and gave her arm a little shake.
‘Nina, you have to hold it together. Wright’s got Naomi. She went out to the garden with the dog a short time ago, and when she didn’t come back Cassie Harrison went out to look, and found the dog but no Naomi. We have to assume that he has taken her. I need you to tell us every detail you remember about where you went, and what Wright said.’
Nina stepped away from Sam and felt the world sway. Shit, she had to get a grip here. ‘Try her mobile. It’s 078432084.’ David nodded at another officer.
Nina sat in a grey interview room, Sam beside her holding her hand while she dredged up every detail of the past twelve hours. Someone brought her tea and toast, and she picked at it. She had to keep her strength up but Christ, how impossible it was to eat toast when her daughter had been taken by a madman. Naomi must be terrified. She would realise very quickly that Paul wasn’t normal and dear God in heaven why had nobody picked up on this long ago?
A young officer appeared with the news that Naomi’s mobile was beside her bed at the Harrison’s, and the brief hope that she’d be easily traced was gone. Nina closed her eyes. Could nothing go right for them? Here she was, Naomi’s mother, and all she was doing to help was tell a couple of police officers about the state of the bloody lino in the kitchen she’d been held in. Fear for her child was eating its way through Nina’s gut, and she clutched her middle. Oh God. She was going to be sick soon.
A police doctor, a woman, arrived halfway through her statement and insisted on dressing Nina’s wrists. Nina sat still, not heeding the sting of antiseptic and refusing to halt the question and answer session with the police officers. Any one of these questions could be the one that helped find Naomi. Before she was finished news came in that the police had found the house she’d been held in, but there was no sign of life there. Paul’s own flat in Newport Pagnell was deserted too. Nina shuddered. Paul, by his own admission, had spent the past year tracking down paedophiles. Not only that, he now wanted Naomi to ‘help’ him – he was going to put her photo on some ghastly website… Suppose he had taken Naomi to another place he thought wouldn’t be found? This place could easily be connected to one of the ‘kiddy-fuckers’ he’d been meting out his self-justice to.
Saliva rushed back into Nina’s mouth and she swallowed it down to churn around in the tea and toast mess in her stomach. Never in all her life had she been so afraid; even breathing was painful. Suddenly she remembered something.
‘Paul spoke of a girlfriend. Melanie.’
David nodded. ‘We’ll check that too. We’ll be searching his home.’
Nina sat back. There was nothing left to tell them; nothing more that could help find Naomi. This was worse than any nightmare, a hundred times worse than the fear for her own safety was the previous day. Waves of numbness were alternating with waves of panic. This very minute her child could be tied to a kitchen chair somewhere, helpless and terrified. The mass in her stomach shifted and Nina ran for the toilets.
Sam was waiting in the corridor to hug her after she’d been sick and dear God she needed someone to hold on to. Sobbing, Nina clung to his jacket.
‘I should never have left you,’ he said into her hair. ‘Nina, I wish I’d been there for you.’
‘It wouldn’t have stopped him,’ said Nina, hearing the dreariness in her own voice. ‘Paul wants revenge and he wants money, and me coming here and involving the police stopped him getting both and it’s made him mad, Sam. Why the hell didn’t I notice sooner? I was so caught up in this bloody finding-family thing that I wasn’t thinking straight, it was all cousins together, and I wanted a cousin, I wanted a family, and shit, why didn’t I notice?’
Sam led her back to the interview room. ‘He was clever. He said all the right things.’
Nina sat down again. The police officers had gone, and there was another cup of tea waiting for her. She pushed it away. ‘Do you think he’ll let me buy her back?’
She rocked back and forward on the police station chair, and Sam rubbed her back without speaking. Nina was grateful for his silence. There was no reassurance anyone could give her right this minute.
David Mallony came back in and leaned on the table. ‘We’re going to drive around with you, see if we can find where you changed cars,’ he said. ‘Paul may have a base of some kind nearby.’
Nina, David, Sam and a policewoman drove around for over an hour before Nina admitted defeat. They found the district where she and Paul left the first car, but she couldn’t remember enough to pinpoint the correct street. They were all so alike, with their identical council terraces and scrappy front gardens. She’d been absorbed in Paul at that point; she hadn’t been watching where they were going. There was no sign of the car, either; Paul must have moved it.
‘Okay – at least we’ve got the area,’ said David eventually. ‘We’ll get a house-to-house inquiry going. Someone may have seen Paul. You should rest, Nina. You’re exhausted.’
David drove them back to John Moore’s house, where the first thing Nina did was have a boiling hot shower. Not that she cared how she looked or smelled, but all that was keeping her going now was the thought that any minute, Naomi might be found. Which meant she had to be ready to go at a moment’s notice to help her child. She emerged from the bathroom to find Sam packing her things into her case and two plastic bags.
‘You’re not staying here another minute,’ he said.
All she wanted was to leave this house forever, but – ‘What if he comes back here? What if he phones?’ she whispered.
‘He won’t, he knows the landline’s bugged. And it’s up to the police to watch the place. They’re going to seal it, anyway. Come back to my flat, Nina. Or Mum and Dad’s.’
The memory of Naomi happily preparing to paint Glen Harrison’s fence flashed into Nina’s mind and her legs turned to jelly. She fell to her knees, head bent to the floor, sobs shaking her body. Sam knelt by her side, patting her back but not attempting to stop the tears.
‘Nina, there are dozens of police officers out searching,’ he said. ‘Don’t give up, they must find her.’
Sniffing, Nina allowed him to help her to her feet. How very much she wanted to believe what he had said. But how often did you read about little girls being taken and then found later in ditches, raped, bleeding, dead. And Paul would be angry about what had happened, he’d be looking for revenge not only on his own abusers now, but also on her. On the other hand, he knew from his own experience what sexual abuse did to a child. So he wouldn’t allow the same thing to happen to Naomi, would he? He was a victim – but then weren’t paedophiles often victims first, and then lost themselves in a never-ending vicious circle, repeating the abuse they’d been subjected to?
The numbness was returning, replacing pain with blessed nothingness, though Nina knew if suffering would bring her girl back, she would take it all. She grasped the handle of her suitcase. ‘Let’s go to yours. And I should phone Beth. And Naomi’s Dad. But first I want to call David; there might be more news.’
Unlikely, in the forty-five minutes since she’d seen him last, or he’d have phoned and told them. But David was all the contact she had to Naomi at the moment, and oh, what a frail thread of contact it was.
Sam handed over his mobile, and she called David on the way to Sam’s flat.
‘Nothing yet. We’ve got dogs out in the areas you were taken to,’ he told her. ‘Mrs Harrison gave us Naomi’s nightgown for the scent. Rest up for the moment, Nina. I’ll call you back in an hour or so.’
Sam’s flat was comfortable and modern, an enormous blue L-shaped sofa dominating the living room, and crammed bookshelves round two walls. Nina sank into the sofa, dread weighing her into the cushions. Thoughts of Naomi were circling round her head in a quite unbearable spiral; but she had to bear it because, oh fuck – she had caused it. She had caused whatever was happening to her child today.
Why the hell had none of Paul’s teachers or social workers seen that he wasn’t normal? The abuse he’d suffered as a child must have unhinged him, but no one had helped him, and heaven knows how long he’d been like this. Nina shivered. She must have been affected too, how afraid she would have been, a poor little wide-eyed three-year-old who didn’t understand what was happening to her. Incredible to think she’d managed to block out something as momentous as sexual abuse. She had no memories of it – how had she been abused, and how often, and by how many people?
A lump rose in Nina’s throat. Claire had told Morag that John Moore had been ‘hitting them both around’. Had Claire known about the sexual abuse and simply not told Morag? It didn’t sound like Claire, and she and Morag were such good friends. So either Claire knew nothing or… the thought was like a sudden breeze of fresh air…
…or little Nina hadn’t been abused. Was that possible?
Fighting the weakness that was still threatening to overcome her, Nina thought about her three-year-old self. According to what she knew, she’d been a talkative, confiding child. Wouldn’t she have spoken about it to Claire, or Lily, if anything bad had happened to her? And as paedophiles normally abused either boys or girls, but not both, it was actually unlikely that both she and Paul were victims of any one group of abusers.
The one thing Nina was sure of was that Paul had been abused. He couldn’t have lied about that so convincingly. She’d seen all the way into his soul, that night he told her about it. So if Paul had lied about her being abused, he’d done it to scare her away and leave him in peace to continue his revenge scheme. The blackmail letters and the calls hadn’t worked, so he’d notched up the horror-programme for her.
Nina sobbed aloud. There was no way to know, but surely, surely, Claire would have intervened if she’d known that Paul was being abused?
Sam appeared from the kitchen with a glass of orange juice and a sliced banana on a plate.
‘Eat,’ he said briefly. ‘I’ll phone Mum and tell her you’re here.’
He left her alone, and Nina managed two pieces of banana and a sip of juice before pushing the plate away. Was Sam on his landline? She wanted to phone Bethany.
He came back and gave her the handset almost as if he had heard her thought.
‘Mum’s coming up later,’ he said. ‘She’s in a bit of a state; she feels it’s her fault.’
‘It’s not,’ said Nina, her voice thick. ‘He would have got Naomi even if she hadn’t been outside. I’m sure he had plenty of tricks ready. Look how he got me into his car – false bombs and everything. He was so convincing, Sam – it’s my fault, not Cassie’s.’
And if anything happened to Naomi today Nina knew she would blame herself for the rest of her life.
Sam patted her shoulder. ‘I’ll leave you to call Beth. Eat that banana, Nina, it’ll give you energy.’
As soon as she heard Beth’s voice Nina dissolved into tears, and it was a few minutes before she was able to talk coherently. Beth was horrified, and for more long minutes all they could do was cry together.
When she ended the call Sam came back and sat beside her on the sofa. Nina sipped her juice, her teeth chattering against the rim of the glass.
‘This is like waiting for Mum to die,’ she said. ‘She was in a coma for days. I was pumped full of adrenalin all the time, ready to cope with her death. I hardly slept. And now – it’s the same kind of feeling again. Sheer horror and nothing to do but wait.’
Sam put an arm round her and Nina closed her eyes. When would she be able to hold Naomi in her arms? Dear God, she’d known about the paedophilia but she still allowed her only child to come and be a part of it all. She’d been the worst possible kind of mother to her little girl. If only… if only she’d never heard of John Moore, never come to Bedford, and never inherited all that blood money.
In and out, in and out, there was nothing to do except breathe and wait for news to come.
