Deadline (25 page)

Emma put the bed back in its original position so
that it covered the hole in the wall and the brickdust
on the floor, and waited in silence with the
hood in her hands. Her elbow ached where she'd
smacked it on the floor, and she felt sick and
thirsty.

The movement upstairs had stopped a few
minutes ago, and now she couldn't hear anything.
She wondered what to do. The problem was, she
might be mobile, but the fact remained that
she was still handcuffed and locked in here, and
the chain was still attached to her ankle, which
was definitely going to slow her down if she did
make a run for it. And the silence scared her,
because silence was what she associated with the
cruel one.

Back later, bitch.

Maybe he was sharpening his knife right now?

But she couldn't just sit there waiting for him to
come and kill her. Otherwise all her efforts would
be in vain. No, she had to do something. A plan
formed in her mind. She'd hide at the top of
the steps behind the door, and when he came
inside she'd push him down them before he
had a chance to spot her. Then she'd make a
break for it. It was pretty lame as plans went,
but it was the best she could think up at the
moment.

She lifted up the ankle chain and started to get
up from the bed. And then stopped as the key
turned in the lock and the door opened.

She was too late.

Hurriedly, she got back on the bed and let the
chain slip to the floor. Her hands were shaking
and she felt fear running up her spine. Was this it?
The last seconds of her life, in a dingy, cold basement
miles from home?

Silence.

She made no move to put on the hood as she
stared towards the staircase.

The light came on, and she squinted against its
brightness.

'Emma,' came a voice from the top of the steps,
'it's me.'

She felt a surge of excitement. It was the smelly
one. She was going to be OK.

'Hi,' she said quietly. 'I'm here.'

'Put your hood on, honey. OK? It's almost time
to go home.'

She did as she was told, hardly able to believe
her luck.

'Am I honestly going home?'

'That's right,' he answered in that wheezy voice
of his. 'It's over. Your mum paid the money so you
don't have to stay here any more.'

She heard him come close. Smelled him, too, the
BO so strong now it made her gag beneath
the hood. He put something down on the floor
by the bed and she thought she heard water
sloshing.

'Am I going to go now?'

'Very soon. We'll just get you ready. Then
there'll be a little journey, and that'll be it. Back
home to your mum. First I'm going to give you a
little wash, though. So you're all nice and clean.'

She felt a wet sponge on her left arm. It made
her feel cold and itchy. He ran it slowly up and
down before starting on the other one.

'Bet that feels good, doesn't it?'

'You don't need to do this. I can wait until I'm
home.'

'I want to do it.'

He moved her arms to one side and lifted up
her T-shirt, rubbing the sponge on her tummy in
small circles. Water dripped down towards the
top of her skirt, and she heard him swallow. It was
a really horrible sound, like something a frog
would make.

'What are you doing?' she whispered.

'Just washing you, darling,' he replied, lifting
her T-shirt higher. Swallowing a second time.

That was when she realized with a sickening
feeling that the nightmare hadn't ended after all.

The driveway that led down to Woodlands Farm
was situated on a quiet wooded road half a mile
south of the M25, a simple wooden sign attached
to a beech tree announcing its presence. There
were no other houses in the immediate vicinity,
making Bolt think that it would be an ideal place
to hold someone without arousing suspicion.

The tension coursed through him. Scott Ridgers
had motive; he'd worked at Andrea's place and
then disappeared at the same time that Emma had
gone missing. And as a fully fledged city boy, why
else would he be out here in the back of beyond?

Not wishing to announce his presence, Bolt
drove thirty yards further along the road before
pulling up on the verge and manoeuvring his car
as far into the trees as it would go. He killed the
lights and got out. Through the darkness created
by the thick concentration of trees, he thought he
could just make out lights, but it was difficult to
tell. According to the sat-nav, Woodlands Farm
was set back at least a hundred yards from the
road.

Knowing how short time was, he moved
swiftly, making for the driveway. His plan was to
approach from the front as quietly as possible and
recce the place. If there was no sign of Ridgers,
he'd break in. He'd taken the law into his own
hands enough times today to worry about doing it
again, and it was possible that his actions had
already cost him his job.

The advantage, however, was that he now had
nothing to lose.

Emma knew what was coming. The dirty, stinking
pervert wanted to have sex with her. Was
going
to
have sex with her if she didn't do something
about it.

A gloved hand touched her knee, and she
gagged beneath the hood.

She had an idea. It was her only chance.

'Can you undo the handcuffs?' she asked,
trying to make her voice sound as if she might be
interested in what he was about to do to her. 'Then
maybe we can . . .' She let the words trail off.

'You're not teasing me, are you?' he said, seriously.
'I don't like girls who tease me. I've had
too much of that recently.'

'No, course not. I've done it before, you know.'

He chuckled. 'Ooh, you are a naughty girl,
aren't you? I think maybe we can make things a
bit more comfortable for you.'

He stopped sponging her and she heard him
fiddling around for the key. She tensed as he
found it and unlocked the cuffs, slipping them off.
She heard him stand up, then the sound of a
zipper being pulled.

Now! Now! Now!
a voice in her head screamed.

She pulled off the hood and jumped up from
the bed in one movement, kneeing him in the
groin as hard as she could. He gasped in pain and
staggered backwards, clutching himself with both
hands.

For the first time, she got a look at him. He was
dressed in jeans and a dirty white T-shirt, and his
face was covered by a balaclava. Tattoos adorned
his arms.

Picking up the chain, she ran past him, dodging
beneath a flailing arm as he tried to grab her.

'You little cow!' he bellowed, lurching after her,
still holding on to his balls.

She took the steps two at a time, the chain still
in her hand. Her limbs felt stiff and painful from
the sudden burst of exercise, but adrenalin drove
her on because she knew that if he caught her, this
time he'd kill her for sure. He hadn't locked the
door from the inside, and she yanked it open and
ran out, slamming it behind her.

She was in a hallway. A door ahead led through
to a living room, one to the right looked like it led
outside. She turned hard right, ran across the hall
and grabbed the handle. It turned, but the door
didn't open. Panic flooded through her.

Behind her, the cellar door flew open and
banged hard against the wall as he came stumbling
out after her.

There was a second handle. Tucking the chain
beneath her arm, she turned the two of them
simultaneously, and this time the door opened.

A gloved hand snatched at her collar, but she
kept going, hearing it rip as he lost his grip, and
then she was out into the night, breathing in fresh
air for the first time in days. There was a gate and
fence ahead, beyond them trees. The gate was
shut. She knew he'd catch her if she ran towards
it, so she darted left, running along the front of the
house, past an outbuilding, making for a field
with long grass up ahead.

She could hear his footsteps on the gravel
behind her, and the sound of his heavy breathing.
He was only feet away now. Pure fear drove her
on, the sure knowledge of what he'd do if he
caught her making her legs pump far faster than
she'd ever thought they were capable of. She'd
never been much of a runner, and at school she'd
hated athletics, even though her Games teacher,
Miss Floyd, always said that she had the perfect
build for it, being slim and small-chested. And
now, finally, when it really mattered, she was
proving Miss Floyd right.

His breathing got fainter as she began to open
up some distance between them. She was running
into the long grass now, and she felt a surge of
elation which lasted no more than a second. As
she pumped her arms to speed herself up, the
movement tightened the chain and caused her to
trip up and lose her footing. She fell forwards, the
uneven, stony ground charging up to meet her,
and her hands hit it palms first.

Desperately she scrambled to her feet, but it
was too late. With a roar of triumph, he came
down hard on her back, knocking the wind out of
her in an agonizing rush.

'Oh God!'

'He can't help you now, you little tease!'

He laughed as he sat astride her and twisted her
round roughly so that she was facing him, his
knees digging into her upper arms. She stared into
his balaclava-clad face, saw dark eyes glinting
excitedly through the slits, and felt terror surge
through her as his gloved hands fiddled impatiently
with the zipper on his jeans, pulling them
open.

He grabbed her wrist and thrust her hand
towards his groin, pulling her upright as he did
so. 'Feel me,' he hissed, and she cried out as the
hand made contact. But he'd moved as well and
his knee was no longer pinning her free arm.
Taking her chance, with the free hand she
scrabbled around in the grass until she found a
sharp piece of flint half the size of her palm. It
wasn't much of a weapon, but it was all she had.
Operating entirely on instinct now, she drove it
into the side of his head and dragged the sharp
edge down the side of his balaclava.

He yelped in pain and smacked her hand away,
letting go of the other one at the same time, but
Emma pressed her advantage, ramming the flint
into the top of his thigh, only centimetres from his
balls. Cursing, he jumped off her, keen to get out
of the way before she did any more damage, and
she saw her opportunity. Scrambling to her feet,
she took off again, the chain trailing loosely
behind her as she made for the tree line, not
daring to look back.

She hit the trees at a sprint, branches crunching
underfoot as she was swallowed up by the darkness,
tearing through brambles, ignoring the pain
as they scratched and clawed her, just wanting to
keep running, to get as far away from him as
possible. Faster and faster, almost blind now in
her desire to keep going.

She fell headfirst, landing on a bed of leaves.
She could still hear him but it sounded as if he
was some distance away. He hadn't seen or heard
her fall, she was sure of that. Part of her wanted to
jump back up and keep going, but a bigger part
told her that it was best to stay put, hidden.
Slowly, very slowly, trying to control her
breathing, she inched forward on her stomach,
pushing herself under a thick holly bush until
she'd got her whole body underneath it, the
jagged leaves scraping against her head and back.

She could feel his heavy footfalls getting closer.
Step by slow step. She'd never been so scared in
her whole life and it took all her willpower just to
stop herself from crying out. She squeezed her
eyes shut and bit her lip.

'You've cut me, you little cow,' he hissed, his
voice carrying through the darkness. 'And after
all I've done for you as well. I kept you alive, and
you do this.'

Another footstep. Almost next to her now. She
forced her eyes open, and had to stifle a scream.
He was right by the holly bush, his black
Caterpillar boot only feet away from her face, a
hulking black shadow blocking out the moonlight
as he sniffed the air like some kind of predator.

She stayed utterly still, frozen to the spot, not
even daring to breathe. Waiting. Hoping. Praying
that he wouldn't discover her.

Please. I just want to go home. See my mum. End
this nightmare.

He seemed to stand there for ever, and she felt
her lungs tightening, crying out for air.

Move. Move, please. I can't hold it in much longer.

And then suddenly he did, the footfalls starting
again as he skirted the holly bush and began to
move away.

She shut her eyes and thanked God, exhaling as
silently as she could and slowly taking in much needed
air. Kept listening, telling herself that she
only had to lie there another few minutes and
everything would be all right. He'd give up his
search, and she'd make a run for the nearest road.
Get help. Go home.

She never heard the movement behind her, just
caught a reek of stale sweat. And then the chain
that was attached to her ankle was suddenly
round her neck, choking her, and a triumphant
voice was whispering in her ear, 'Found you.'

Bolt walked slowly down the track as it ran in a
curve through the woodland and then straightened
as the tree line ended and an old two-storey
cottage in need of a lick of paint appeared in front
of him, nestled between two ramshackle outbuildings.
There were lights on downstairs and the
double-gates that led to the front of the house
were wide open. A dark-coloured Range Rover
was parked in the driveway.

He moved off the driveway and on to the long
grass lining it so that his movements didn't
trigger any lights, and approached the gates
quietly using the darkness as cover.

But as he reached them he heard the sound of
footsteps on gravel coming from somewhere up
ahead. His view of whoever it was was blocked by
the Range Rover as he crouched down behind the
fence so that he couldn't be seen.

Then he heard it. A strangled sob, definitely
female. He felt a ferocious jolt of emotion that
almost knocked him off his feet as he realized that
it was almost certainly coming from Emma.

This was confirmed in the next few seconds
when she came into view, barely a silhouette in
the gloom and smaller than he'd imagined,
staring straight ahead. But it was definitely
Emma, just as Bolt knew that the man dragging
her by the length of chain round her neck was
Scott Ridgers. He might have been wearing a balaclava,
but that didn't matter. It was him.

Bastard
.

Ridgers had a small-bladed knife in his free
hand which he kept close to Emma's side to
ensure she didn't struggle. Even in the darkness,
Bolt could see the terrified expression on her face,
and he felt the rage build within him. But there
were at least twenty yards between them, which
would give Ridgers far too much time to react if
Bolt charged him. He was going to have to be
patient, look for an opportunity.

Then Ridgers said something to Emma that
chilled Bolt's blood: 'We're going to have some
fun now, baby.'

Emma managed a strangled sob, and Bolt had
to shut his eyes and hold on to the fence for
support.

When he opened them again, they'd reached
the front door. He watched as Ridgers pushed it
open and shoved Emma inside, following her in
without looking round.

And chuckling. The bastard was actually
chuckling.

He also made the biggest mistake of his life. He
didn't shut the door behind him.

Bolt took a deep breath. Moving as quietly and
swiftly as he could, he followed them into the
house.