A New Dawn Rising (26 page)

The light shining in Sam's face went off, and another, softer light came on in the room. Sam lowered his arm. In the armchair opposite him sat Dave Starkey, bathed in the glow of a floor lamp standing next to the chair. Starkey had a smug look on his face. He held an unlit torch in one hand and a gun in the other. A small black revolver.

Starkey was pointing the gun straight at Sam.

'You thought I hadn't noticed the window was broken?' he sneered. 'What do you take me for?'

Sam didn't reply.

'I thought you might turn up here,' teased Starkey. 'I've been waiting for you.'

'Seymour, I suppose,' said Sam glumly. 'He didn't waste any time, did he?'

A flicker of a smile played on Starkey's lips.

'No, he didn't. In fact, Bill Seymour's been very helpful, turning up the way he did. You'll be seeing him again very soon, by the way.'

Sam didn't like the sinister tone in Starkey's voice. Nor did he care to see Bill Seymour, soon or otherwise. The whole lot of them disgusted him. Starkey. Seymour. Molly.

'Come on, then, Dave,' he said, determined not to show Starkey any fear. 'Are you going to tell me why you killed Carl?'

Sam had no interest in hearing Starkey's motives, but he needed to keep the man talking to buy some time. However, Starkey said nothing. He just shook his head slowly.

'Well, there's no point trying to deny it now, is there?' said Sam. 'I mean, murder? Arson? Kidnap-'

'Shut up, Sam!' shouted Starkey, getting out of his chair. 'You don't know what you're talking about! If you hadn't stuck your nose-'

'Why, Dave?' asked Sam, raising his own voice. 'Why didn't you want me sticking my nose in, eh? I'll tell you why. You were happy for me or anybody else to take the blame. As long as no-one suspected you. All so you and Molly could escape scot free and start a new life with Carl's money.'

'I told you to shut up!' exploded Starkey, taking a step towards Sam. 'You think you've got it all worked out, don't you? You think you're so clever!'

Sam stared down at the gun in Starkey's hand. It was still levelled at Sam's mid-riff, but it was shaking wildly. Starkey couldn't keep his hand still. Sam had got him rattled. For the next few seconds, neither man spoke. A tense stand-off ensued. Starkey was clearly fuming, irritation spread all over his face. The gun continued to waver in his hand.

'Go on then, Dave,' said Sam coolly. 'What are you waiting for? You've already murdered one person. Shooting me as well isn't going to make much of a difference.'

Sam knew he was taking the gamble of his life. These could be his last moments. He looked into Starkey's eyes and saw a man losing his bottle. Someone way out of their depth, trying to decide what to do for the best.

'What's the matter, Dave?' asked Sam, putting his hands out, showing Starkey his own steady palms. 'It's no so easy shooting a man in cold blood, is it? Not when he's facing you. Was it easier knocking Carl over the head and dousing him in petrol? Then dropping a match on him?'

Anger flickered in Starkey's eyes. His nostrils flared.

'Why, you-'

He stopped talking and tilted his head. Alarm spread across his face. Someone was coming downstairs. Running quickly. Sam could hear a muffled voice calling out. Suddenly, the door to the room burst open.

'Dave, who are you talking-'

Molly Renshaw stopped in her tracks when she saw Sam.

'Oh, Sam. I didn't-'

'Hello, Molly,' said Sam evenly.

Molly's face flushed with embarrassment. She couldn't meet Sam's eyes. Instead, she turned her attention to Starkey.

'Dave, what is Sam doing here?' she asked angrily. 'And why is Bill's car outside?'

Sam watched Starkey's reaction with interest.

'Just leave things to me, Molly,' replied Starkey, looking increasingly flustered. 'I thought you were leaving, anyway.'

'I am,' she told him. 'I've just finished getting the girls ready. We're-'

Her mouth fell open as she spotted the gun in Starkey's hand. She stared down at it, transfixed by the weapon. Then she looked back up at Starkey, shaking her head in horror.

'I'm getting out of here right now!' she hissed at him. 'I don't want to stay in this house a minute longer!'

She turned to leave the room, but Sam wasn't going to let her walk away that easily.

'What's this, then?' he asked her. 'A lover's tiff?'

Molly and Starkey gave him identical scornful looks.

'What are you on about?' asked Molly.

Their reaction told Sam he had come to the wrong conclusion somewhere along the line. However, his predicament hadn't changed. He was still looking down the barrel of a gun, and Lucy was still missing.

'Forget it,' he said, looking from Molly to Starkey. 'I just want to know where Lucy is. That's all I'm here for.'

'Well, you'd better ask him,' snapped Molly, flashing another angry glance in Starkey's direction. 'He's the one who brought her here and-'

'But why did you let him bring her here?' asked Sam, genuine wonder in his voice. 'Why would you hold her here in the same house where your daughters are staying?'

'I didn't know he was bringing her here!' protested Molly. 'He panicked when he thought you were onto him, and now he seems to be messing everything else up as well.'

The look of contempt Molly gave Starkey confirmed to Sam the two of them were most definitely not a couple.

'Well, whose fault is it she's still here?' shouted Starkey, returning Molly's accusation back at her with venom. Sam could see he wasn't just finding his voice again. He was beginning to rage.

'Don't you dare blame-'

'It's you and your daughter's fault, that's who!' roared Starkey, cutting Molly down. 'They heard you ranting and raving about her being here and felt sorry for her. They're the ones who gave her the phone-'

'That's it!' screamed Molly, fighting back tears. 'I'm going!'

She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Sam heard her stomp angrily up the stairs. Seconds later, the faint sound of children's voices drifted down through the ceiling. Frightened and questioning.

'Come on, you,' growled Starkey, his gun still trained on Sam. 'Let's get going...'

'Is that why you didn't ring me back?' asked Sam, blindly feeling his way down the steps. 'Because Molly pointed out you'd dug yourself in a hole by bringing Lucy here? I suppose once you started thinking straight, you realised you couldn't just let her go. Not when she'd seen you and your car-'

'Shut up and keep moving,' said Starkey, shoving the barrel of his gun harder into Sam's back.

'Okay, take it easy,' protested Sam, almost losing his footing. Starkey was forcing him down a stairway in complete darkness. Sam could feel the air getting colder. He presumed they were heading for the basement. He wondered what would be awaiting him there.

The floor underneath him levelled out before he bumped into something solid. A door. He heard someone scramble about on the other side. Was he finally going to be re-united with Lucy? A terrible thought crossed his mind. What condition was he going to find her in?

Starkey shoved Sam aside, pushing him face first into a wall while keeping the gun firmly wedged into his back. Sam heard a key turn and the door swing open. Then Starkey turned him around and pushed him through the open door. Sam stumbled down a step and fell to his knees on the damp concrete floor. The basement was as dark as the stairway he had just walked down.

'Hello?' he whispered, as the door slammed to behind him.

A tearful voice replied from feet away.

'Sam?'

Sam Carlisle had never felt such relief in his life. Never.

'Lucy?' he replied.

Then, much to his surprise, a male voice also spoke out.

'Sam? Sam Carlisle? Is that you?'

Sam was taken aback. What was Bill Seymour doing down here?

***

They found each other in the darkness and hugged warmly. Sam felt Lucy's tears roll down her cheeks and trickle onto his own face. Bill Seymour could wait a moment. Sam had seriously wondered if he was ever going to see Lucy alive again.

Eventually, he released himself from her embrace and tried to make her out in the darkness.

'I wish I could see you,' sobbed Lucy, reading his mind.

Sam had a thought.

'Hold on a minute,' he told her. He stood up, dug into his pocket and pulled out the flash-light. Clicking it on, he pointed the thin beam in Lucy's direction. What he saw alarmed him.

Lucy had only been held prisoner for a few hours, but looking at her, she could have been in this dark, dank room for days on end. Her hair was dry and matted. Dark circles underlined tired, red eyes. Her skin looked pale and washed out, and she was shivering non-stop. Most of all, she looked absolutely terrified.

Sam took off his jacket.

'Here,' he said, wrapping it around her shoulders. 'You need warming up.'

She let him drape the coat around her while taking the flash-light off him. Sam smiled as she shone the light directly in his face.

'Oh, Sam!' she squealed in delight, embracing him once more. 'I never thought I'd see you again!'

Bill Seymour coughed.

'Erm...I'm sorry to interrupt you two, but I think we have more pressing matters right now.'

Sam took the flash-light back and waved its beam around until it rested on Seymour's face. He didn't look in any better shape than Lucy. His glasses lay tilted at an angle on his nose. The small amount of hair he had was standing up on end. And he, too, looked cold with a face as white as a ghost.

'Bill, what are you doing in here?' asked Sam, moving the beam away from Seymour's face onto the wall behind.

'Dave Starkey put me in here, same as he did with young Lucy here.'

Sam continued to let the beam slide from wall to wall, giving him a picture of the room they were in. It was spacious and bare, with no way in or out apart from the door he had been propelled through.

'I gathered that, Bill,' he said, pointing the light back in Seymour's face. 'What I want to know is why? You scarpered off pretty quickly earlier.'

Seymour waved his hands in front of his face.

'Will you turn that thing off, Sam?' he complained. 'Or at least stop pointing it in my face. It's blinding me after being in the dark so long.'

Sam switched the flash-light off. He felt Lucy take his hand and press into him. She was still trembling. He put an arm around her and pulled her close.

'So, what happened?' he asked Seymour through the darkness. 'I take it you drove straight here from your office?'

Seymour sighed before answering.

'That's right,' he confirmed. 'I left the office so quickly because I didn't know who that other man was or what he wanted. I just wanted to pass on what you told me. Warn Molly that Dave was responsible for Carl's death. I thought she might be in danger herself.'

Sam recalled Peter Canning falling through the doorway to Seymour's office. With Sam having already shredded the accountant's nerves, he supposed he couldn't blame the man for getting out of there as quickly as possible.

'And what happened when you got here?' asked Sam. 'I take it Starkey didn't throw you a welcome party?'

Seymour coughed. It was a harsh, tearing noise. Sam knew the cold basement was no good for a man of Seymour's age.

'It was almost as though he was watching out for me,' spluttered Seymour, clearing his throat. 'He had the front door open before I even knocked on it. I told him I wanted to talk to Molly and he asked me what about. When I refused to tell him, he pulled a gun on me.'

'So, you told him I figured out he'd killed Carl?'

'I had to,' replied Seymour, taking deep breaths. 'I honestly thought he was going to shoot me there and then.'

'Well, none of it matters now,' said Sam. 'Molly knows everything. She was in on it with him.'

Both Lucy and Seymour gasped.

***

'How are we going to get out of here, Sam?'

'I don't know, Bill,' replied Sam glumly. 'I can't see any obvious way out.'

Sam had been in there with Lucy and Seymour for ten minutes now. Lucy had told him of Starkey's anger at finding the phone in her possession. How he had screamed at her, telling her there was no way he could let her go now. Thankfully, Starkey hadn't turned violent. He had simply snatched the phone off Lucy and stormed out of the basement. Sam didn't have the heart to tell Lucy it had been one of Molly's daughters who had sneaked down with the phone out of pity for her. Hearing that would upset her even more.

Seymour emphasised again that although he knew Molly, the girls and Starkey were staying at the farmhouse, he had no reason to be suspicious. As far as he was aware, Molly needed a quiet place to grieve and Starkey had the property at his disposal. He refused to accept the idea the two of them were romantically linked, even after Sam's stunning revelation that Molly had willingly gone along with the murder of her own husband. No, insisted Seymour, Molly and Dave got on each other's nerves too much to be anything more than friends. After the argument Sam had witnessed upstairs, he was inclined to agree.

In turn, Sam told Lucy and Seymour how close he had been to reeling Starkey in upstairs. How Starkey's resolve had been weakening in the face of Sam's accusations until Molly had appeared in the room. How her outburst had seemingly restored his conviction.

'There's one really strange thing about Dave Starkey's behaviour,' mused Sam out loud.

'What's that?' asked Lucy, her teeth chattering wildly. All three of them were huddled up close to each other now, trying to use their combined body heat to ward off the increasingly cold night. They talked in darkness as Sam wanted to save the flash-light for any emergency that might present itself.

'The way he keeps denying everything,' continued Sam. 'Killing Carl, setting fire to the factory-'

'He must still be hoping to get away with it all,' snorted Seymour.

'But why not just admit it to us?' Sam persisted. 'What's the point in continuing to-'

'Ssshh!' whispered Lucy, placing a finger to her lips.

Sam gave her a curious look.

'I just heard something,' she said quietly. 'A thud. Listen.'

They heard the click of a switch on the stairway. A strip of light appeared at the bottom of the basement door. Footsteps began descending the stairs. Sam felt Lucy grip his shoulder. He heard Seymour take a sharp intake of breath.

The three of them waited.