Behind A Twisted Smile (Dark Minds Book 2) (26 page)

I slowed my pace in the woods. I didn’t want to trip over any tree roots; a sprained ankle would have been disastrous, so I made sure I kept as near as possible to the same route I had taken before. Inside the woods, the wind became muffled and it felt warmer. I unzipped the front of my jacket and paused to get my breath back. Ten minutes later, I was standing at the back of Martyn’s garden, the fence and gate in front of me. The only sound I heard was the early-morning traffic in the distance and a few birds in the trees.

In the semi-darkness, the fence loomed tall and solid in front, and I paused, suddenly wondering what on earth I was doing. Should I have come here on my own? Had I really any reason to trespass on private property? I shivered. Supposing Martyn’s guilt was nothing but a figment of my imagination? I shook my head to clear it of indecision. Martyn was as guilty as true as light is day.

I stretched my hand towards the gate as I had before and lifted the latch. I pushed but the gate wouldn’t move. Feeling stupid, I realised Martyn must have kept the gate locked, especially as he was away. I looked round at the trees surrounding the area. Further along the fence, I noticed a tree with wide-spreading branches, one of which stretched over the fence and into the garden.

I grabbed hold of a lower branch, tested it for strength and then pulled myself upwards. Within minutes I was sitting astride the branch and looking down into the garden. I shuffled further along until I was beyond the fence, the lawn about nine feet below me. I lay along the branch and, grabbing hold of two smaller branches, swung myself down, my feet now dangling about three feet off the ground. I took a breath, closed my eyes and willed my body to relax as I let go.

I hit the grass, bending downwards to absorb the impact in my ankles, knees and hips before rolling to one side. My right ankle felt jarred, but at least it wasn’t injured. I sat up and looked round. Off to my right was the shed, and it was this which interested me most. If I was right, I would find the proof there, and I wouldn’t even need to venture into the house.

A gap appeared in the clouds, and the night shadows appeared starker. I stood up and, trying not to limp, hurried towards the shed door, which was still featureless in the gloomier shadows. I switched my torch on and while keeping the beam low, directed it towards the door.

I was praying I would find the shed unlocked, but I had my screwdriver, and I was prepared to unscrew the door hinges or any locks to get inside. To my surprise, when I turned the handle in my gloved hands, the door opened easily and swung inward.

Directly ahead, I caught a soft gleam in the torchlight. The gleam of chrome. Bicycle chrome.

Without pausing, I slipped inside the shed and headed for the two bicycles leaning against the far end. One was definitely a woman’s bike, and the other must have been Martyn’s. It was this one I was interested in. My dream had jogged my memory. It featured two bicycles, and I remembered that when I discovered Evie on that dreadful afternoon, only her bike was leaning against the shed. Okay, so Martyn’s could have been inside, but the dream had given me the idea.

My heart was thudding against my rib cage as I checked the bike over in the beam of my torch. The saddle looked clean, as did the frame and wheels. I wheeled it out and checked the other side. It looked as clean as a whistle, and my optimism plummeted. I felt so sure this was how Martyn made his way home the day he murdered Evie.

I estimated the bike would have cut the walk time down to a third and if taken carefully, a cyclist could have made the journey almost unseen from the road or houses. It was only for the last part caution was necessary. Likewise, I thought he used a bike to ensure his car was on view at all times during the day when he was supposed to be on duty at the hospital.

I guessed Martyn had either taken his bike to the hospital some time earlier or maybe folded and hidden it in his car. The police would never have even known he owned a bicycle, and he could have simply cycled there and back to the hospital after murdering Evie. I took a gamble on Martyn keeping the bike, thinking that once the dust had settled after Evie’s death, he would have brought it back home. If I recalled, Martyn was as tight-fisted as anything and wouldn’t have ditched it. Besides, knowing how his mind worked, no doubt he would have taken pleasure in keeping a memento of how clever he had been in pulling off yet another perfect murder.

Flummoxed, I sat back on my haunches and checked it over again, this time from the wheels upward. I stood up and caught my shin on a pedal. Cursing under my breath, I rubbed my leg and then paused. I hadn’t checked underneath the pedal toe clips. I spun the right-hand pedal and peered at the resin toe clip. It, too, looked as spotless as the rest of the bicycle. I guessed Martyn must have cleaned it.

With diminishing hope, I turned the other pedal and gasped. There, underneath and hidden from view, one whole strip of the toe clip was covered in what surely must have been dried blood. I guessed Martyn had Evie’s blood on his shoes or socks, which had been transplanted onto the toe clip. I knew I was right. I stared at the blood, thinking more about my theory. I wondered what clothing Martyn had been wearing and whether he had disposed of it.

The next thing I saw was a shower of exploding white stars as I crashed forward against the bicycle.

Chapter 35

I came to slowly, feeling waves of agony radiating out from the base of my neck. I tasted blood in my mouth and realised I must have bitten my tongue. Reeling with pain, I opened my eyes and saw nothing but darkness. I tried to utter a sound and instead felt something in my mouth. A cloth of some sort, slightly oily-tasting. I must have been lying on the ground, as it felt hard and cold against my body. I tried to move my arms and found I couldn’t. Something was pinching my skin, and I realised my wrists were restrained in some way behind my back.
What?
Panic rose from the pit of my stomach into my throat…I couldn’t move my legs either.

Panic turned to blind terror as I thrashed around, digging my heels into whatever I was lying on. I registered a sharp pain in my right ankle and forced myself to stop bashing my legs. I couldn’t breathe in large amounts of air, but sucked in what I could through my nostrils. Lying completely still, I concentrated on breathing. Somehow, I comprehended I had to keep calm. Stop panicking and think.

It didn’t take much guesswork to cotton on that I was now a captive. Tears formed in my eyes, and I blinked them away. It was obvious who had made me a prisoner. I had been foolish; I had to escape somehow.

I tried to roll onto my side and found that my movements were further restricted. As well as my wrists and ankles being tied together, I appeared to be tethered to something in some way. I twisted the other way and discovered, after one and a half turns, I came up against a wall of some sort. Moving my head nearer, I sniffed and smelt wood and then, by pushing my face against the barrier, felt something which resembled plastic. I decided I was up against a wooden wall covered with some sort of insulation material. The shed! I must have been tethered in Martyn’s shed.

Fresh despondency washed over me. I was trapped, tied up with something I couldn’t see, and with no idea of how to get out the situation. I knew Martyn was dangerous, and knowing my luck, the chances of finding a weapon of some sort bordered on zero.

I tried to stand and shuffled first onto my knees and then feet, before attempting a tiny shuffled step towards a fine thin line of light coming from what I assumed was the shed door. I felt a second stab in my right ankle, and I stumbled, pitching forward and crashing headlong against the door handle.

I think I must have lain there dazed and feeling nauseous for some time, because when I next opened my eyes it was almost daylight outside. Gingerly, I turned my head and noticed a window about halfway up one side; it was covered with a piece of sacking tacked into the wood, but fingers of light crept into the shed.

I moved my legs and arms, immediately feeling pins and needles as the circulation regained momentum around my body.

“Good of you to join me,” he said, and I jumped at the sound of his voice behind me. Despite the ache in my neck I whipped my head round. Martyn.

He was leaning against the end wall, arms crossed and grinning at my obvious discomfort. He crossed to where I lay and with one movement reached down and grabbed me by my hair. “Get up. I’ve got plans for you.”

A moan came from deep in my throat, inaudible because of the gag, as he dragged me further into the shed. He laughed as he twisted my hair round his fist. “You never knew when to stop did you, Moya? You always had to go that one step further.” He thrust his face near mine, his eyes dark slits, and his breath sour and hot against my cheek. “The sad thing is it wasn’t necessary, if you hadn’t thrown me out and made me look a fool. We had something good going. So I had to teach you a lesson. But the lesson hasn’t ended yet. Oh, do you want to say something?”

He tugged the material from my mouth, and I spat blood and mucus in his face. “You bastard, let me go.”

Martyn laughed and wiped the spittle away with the back of his free hand. “Never. I made that mistake once before. We’re joined together for life.”

An iciness crept through me. He’s going to kill me. Whatever I say or do, he’s not going to change his mind. He’s planned this all along. Saying he was going away was all a front. He knew I couldn’t resist coming round and snooping. Because he knew
I
knew he was a killer and would never let it rest.

“Why my family? Evie? Why Kate? What did they ever do to you?” I whispered, my throat feeling tight and sore.

“Because they all mattered and counted to you. It gave me a good feeling knowing you cared about them. Made it all…so personal. Your mother too. Belinda was far more generous with her money than Evie ever was. And what can I say about Darcy, delicious, juicy Darcy. She was sweet and ripe for plucking. Only she’ll never enjoy that again.”

I stared at him in horror. Not Darcy. Not my little sister. I felt all along he would corrupt and use her if he could. No wonder she had become more and more withdrawn. I felt my stomach churn. Please God, let her be all right. Let her be safe at home. I realised Martyn would never let me get away alive, but if I got the slightest chance I would kill him first, even if it was the last thing I did.

As I stared, there was a sound of a phone ringing in Martyn’s pocket, and he let go of my hair abruptly. He thrust the gag back into my mouth before heading towards the door, then stopped and glared at me.

“This shed is soundproofed, so don’t think about removing the gag and screaming for help. Both my neighbours are away, and besides, nobody ever comes along here. So you’d be wasting your breath. If you behave, I’ll think about removing it later. He reached down and opened a plastic box lying near the door and he removed a syringe. With one fluid movement, he yanked down my tracksuit trousers and jabbed the needle into my thigh. I remember sinking towards the floor as he opened the door and locked and bolted it behind him.

I listened to his receding footsteps going down the path towards the house as fuzziness overcame me, and with a sense of foreboding, I wondered what horrible plans he had in store. I had been stupid; I should have insisted on back-up, made sure I went there with…

Chapter 36

I had no idea how long I slept. I woke up gradually, stretching and feeling cramped with aches and pains all over my body. My eyelids seemed glued together, and I realised I had been crying just as I lost consciousness.

As soon as I was fully conscious, I noticed it must have been sunny outside, as the shed seemed flooded with light, even with the sackcloth tacked against the window frame. I was lying on my back, and I attempted to roll over, only to discover I was now inside a sleeping bag, with a blanket spread beneath. This time, my hands were tied together in the front with red cable ties; my ankles weren’t tied together, but by the feel of it, one ankle was attached to something else. I reached down and decided this was also a cable tie, but it appeared to be secured to a chain of some sort. I glanced down, squirming around in the bag and discovered the chain to be a long bicycle lock. Oh my God! This was bad enough, but perhaps my worst nightmare was about to begin.

Martyn had stripped me naked.

The only consolation was he had removed the gag from my mouth. I reached down and wondered whether I could slip the tie off, but found it to be tight around my ankle. I checked the bicycle lock and cable and noticed that the chain snaked out from the sleeping bag and led to a D-ring bolted into the side of the shed. The ring was sunk well into the wood, and I knew I wouldn’t have the strength to pull it out with my bare hands, or by bracing my feet against the wood.

I couldn’t see any useful tools which would have made good weapons, and there weren’t any of my clothes lying around. Not that I could have put them on, anyway, with the cable ties in place. My hip-pack containing the screwdriver I had taken with me was nowhere to be seen. A thought struck me. Martyn was no newcomer to this game. He had planned this down to the last detail. He had done it before. The thought made me pause. I knew about Evie, Kate and Amanda’s cousin, Sally. But who else had he murdered?

My thoughts chilled me. This wasn’t just a Martyn I dated for a couple of weeks or who had married my sister and best friend’s sister. This man was a stalker, a predator and killer of women.