For the Sake of the Children: The first Chloe Webster thriller (Chloe Webster Thrillers Book 1) (22 page)

Chloe and George ran up to the front door of the farmhouse. George was crying now as his legs began to ache. He was partly walking and partly being pulled by Chloe, and his trousers were filthy from where he had fallen over several times. She kept reassuring him that everything would be all right but she didn’t even believe it herself, not after what had happened to Mrs Granger.

She banged on the formidable rustic door of the farmhouse, praying for someone to be at home.

‘Hello?’ she shouted, moving instantly to a window nearby and peering through. She couldn’t see anybody inside the neat, modern room, and banged on the window as hard as she could.

‘Hello? Is there anybody there? We need help. Please, somebody.’ The desperation in her voice was total, the calm she had tried to maintain for George’s sake now gone entirely. She looked behind her but all she could see was a landscape covered in open fields. This house had been their only chance and that chance was now fading fast. She picked up a piece of broken stone and threw it as hard as she could at the window. Glass shattered as the stone flew into the room beyond, leaving a black rugged hole in the pane. She shouted through the opening.

‘Please, is anybody home?’

Then silence. Nobody was here and nobody was going to help them. She knew that now. And when the silence was eventually broken by footsteps tramping across the farmyard behind the house she thought only of George. Bending down and wrapping her arms around him she spoke into his ear.

‘George I’m
so
sorry. I tried everything I could to keep you safe. Now you have to do what these men tell you. I might be able to come with you, but if not I
will
find you and get you home to mummy. Will you remember that? Please don’t forget it. I
will
come for you.’

George gripped on to the girl that he’d come to trust. She was the one who would get him back to his mummy and tears filled his eyes again.

‘Yes Chloe. I’ll be good, I promise.’

A man came traipsing round the corner of the house. It was Peters, but Chloe’s eyes were focused only on the gun he was pointing at her.

‘Please don’t. I’m only trying to protect the child. Please don’t shoot us.’ She turned away and sheltered George from the gunman, bracing herself for what was coming next.

The noise was just like the one she’d heard at Mrs Granger’s house; the muffled thud of a silenced handgun.

Startled chickens squawked and flapped out of the way to safety.

The noise scared her. But she
had
heard it. That could only mean she was alive. There was no pain. No blood. No screaming. She looked down at George but he was still holding on to her, seemingly unhurt. She turned slowly and looked over at Peters. He stared back at her blankly.

‘Just a warning shot, Miss Webster. It’s the only one I’m gonna fire. Next time it’ll be in your head. Now let’s stop all this fucking around and get you and this child out of here shall we, before I have to start killing the bloody farmer and his wife.’

Mickey came bounding round the corner at speed, covered from knee to shoulder in mud.

‘Had a little fall did we Mickey lad?’ sneered Jez. ‘Good job your suit’s a cheap one isn’t it?’

Mickey looked a little sorry for himself. The slope
had
been too much for him in the end and he’d gone over in a boggy patch near the boundary fence. He looked at the girl and the child wrapped around her legs. He thought she was beautiful, and he felt humiliated in her presence by his companion’s words.

‘Fuck off Jez,’ he said simply.

Jez was already irritable enough and he pointed the gun momentarily at Mickey’s face.

‘Watch it Mickey son, just watch it.’

He paused for a moment or two and then grinned, sticking the gun into his belt.

‘Right, as I said we have to get out of here. We’ll need the car Mickey, so off you go back up the field and get it. There’s a map in the glove compartment. Look for…’ he glanced around at the house and saw the words he was after carved into a stone above the door. ‘… Millstone Farm. There’s bound to be a way down here.’

Mickey stood staring at him.

‘You telling me I’ve got to go all the way back the way we just came?’

‘I am Mickey, and quickly. I really don’t want the farmer coming home with his twelve bore shotgun do I?’

‘Well why don’t we all just walk up to the car together?’

‘Like a bloody Sunday afternoon walk with the family? Don’t be soft Mickey. Just go and get the car will you?’

‘But we can all walk…’

‘Mickey, just fuck off and get the car.’

Mickey hesitated. He knew he was pushing Jez’s patience to the limit.

‘I still don’t get why we don’t just all walk up to the car.’

Jez marched over to Chloe and without warning slammed his fist into the middle of her face. She fell to the ground with a whimper and lay there in the mud. Her nose was angled unnaturally to one side, and blood flowed down her face, dripping onto the filthy farmyard. George immediately cried out and knelt down beside her, pulling at her top and calling her name.

‘Fucking hell Jez what are you doing? Drabble wants her alive.’

‘I know he does Mickey. Don’t worry she’ll be fine.’ He looked down at her motionless body. ‘Well, she’ll be alive anyway. She had it coming the stupid cow. Do you understand why I need the car now?’

Mickey raised his hands in an effort to calm the situation. ‘Okay, okay, I’m going. Just don’t kill her. If
she
dies, we all die.’

And with that he ran off round the corner of the farmhouse back towards the field.

The Timer breathed heavily as he completed his final set of sit-ups. His leg remained painful but his vision was now unimpaired, the swelling around his eye having subsided considerably. Running was impossible, but he had no intention of doing that. Walking was manageable but painful, and that would do for what he needed. Taking the stairs carefully he found his wife and two young daughters in the lounge watching television.

‘I’m going out in a minute. There’s something I have to take care of.’ He looked at his wife. ‘Whilst I’m out I want you to pack a bag. We’ll need to leave town tonight, head down south perhaps. Maybe a hotel on the coast somewhere.’

His wife looked concerned. She was used to his comings and goings and never asked any questions. But she’d never had to leave her home before. It must be serious.

‘When will we be able to come back?’ She looked at the girls who had picked up on the anxiety in their mother’s voice.

‘What’s the matter mummy?’ said Daisy, the older of the two.

‘It’s okay princess, mummy and daddy just need to talk for a minute. You stay here and watch the telly.’ She stood up and ushered her husband into the kitchen, closing the door behind them. ‘Are you in trouble? Why the urgency all of a sudden?’

‘I didn’t want to worry you with it all before. There’re some people I do some work for, and it’s all got a bit messy. I need to sort a few things out, but when I do, it’ll get even messier, if you know what I mean. There’s nothing to worry about. None of them knows where I live, but we need to be sure the girls are safe.’ He took her in his arms and held her close.’ I need to be sure
you’re
safe.’

She enjoyed the warmth of his body, wishing she could keep him here with her, but she knew that was impossible. She pushed him away gently to arm’s length and looked into his eyes.

‘So when
will
we be able to come back?’

He hesitated, knowing how she cherished her home. She’d never had that safe environment when she was a child, and the thought that he was depriving her of it now tore him apart.

‘I don’t know. I just don’t know. There’re lots of people involved and it depends how things turn out. For now, I just need to know you’re safe.’

She fell into his arms again, the confirmation of what she already knew making her legs feel suddenly weak. How will she tell the girls? They loved it here. All their friends were here.

‘We have to be safe,’ insisted the Timer. ‘Nothing else matters.’

She knew he was right, and she said no more about it. They were in this together; they were a partnership.

‘Promise me one thing.’ This had been a long time coming, but she had to say it.

‘What’s that?’

‘When this is over, you’ll give this up and we’ll lead a normal life. I want to be like all the other mothers. I want to tell them that you’re a salesman, or an electrician, or whatever the hell you want to be. I’m sick of lying all the time. I’m sick of
worrying
all the time.’

He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her tighter. He knew her love was unconditional.

‘I have to go. Be ready in two hours.’

He left her warm clutches and entered the far colder grip of the cool air in the garage. Tucking the gun into his belt, he looked down at the hunting knife.

Why not? You never know what might happen.

Placing it in the sheath on his belt he grabbed his thick winter coat from a hook on the wall and headed back into the kitchen. Daisy stood there looking at him.

‘Daddy won’t be long,’ he said as she ran up and hugged his legs. He took her up into his arms and kissed her cheek, ‘and when I get back we’ll have exciting adventures together, just the four of us.’

‘Okay daddy. Love you.’

‘Love you too sweetheart. Now go and see mummy.’

She ran off into the warm lounge that was filled with love and the Timer turned and headed out into the cold, filled with hate.

The pain made its presence felt before anything else; a dull, throbbing pain, right in the middle of her face. She knew she was seated, but it took a few moments before she managed to open her eyes. Peters was standing against the wall in front of her next to a large window. She blinked in the bright electric light that filled the room. He grinned at her.

‘Sorry about the nose, but I wouldn’t worry about it now if I were you. I think it’s fair to say that it’s the least of your worries, don’t you?’

She remembered then that he had come at her, fast and angry. He must have hit her but she could muster no recollection of it now. She tried to reach up to feel her face but couldn’t move her hands. They were bound tightly behind her back. She looked around the featureless room. Was it some kind of warehouse? There was a man in a chair to her right, also bound. Recognition struck her immediately.

‘Dad!’ she called. ‘Dad, are you okay? Dad?’

Her father didn’t move. He was slumped over and prevented from falling only by duct tape which encircled his torso and the chair’s back-rest.

‘What have you done to him, you bastard?’ She looked at Peters but he just smirked, clearly unconcerned by his condition.

‘Help! Anyone, help! Help!’ She shouted as loud as she could but still Peters stood grinning at her. He paced across in front of the window.

‘There’s no point, Miss Webster. No one can hear you. No one’s coming to help. No one cares. It’s all over for you. And him.’ He nodded towards her father.

‘Where’s George? What have you done with him?’

‘Oh he’s all right. He’s waiting for his new family. Soon he’ll forget all about this, all about you, and all about that stupid mother of his. He’ll probably have a much better life where he’s going.’

Chloe wrestled with the tape on her wrists but there was no way she could shift it. She looked back at her father and tears came to her eyes. Why was he here? How did he get involved in all this?

‘Please let me go Mr Peters. I won’t say anything. And my father, it’s nothing to do with him.’ Chloe could feel desperation taking over.

‘Nope, sorry, not gonna happen. And leave it out with the
Mr Peters
. Just call me Jez.’ He said it like they were newly acquainted business associates, friends even, but then he moved to the corner of the room and picked up a long thick rope.

Chloe instantly started to panic.

What the hell is he doing?

Jez calmly threw the rope over a steel joist near the ceiling and then lopped it around her neck.

‘What are you doing?’ But she already knew. Her heart began to race. ‘Get
off
me. Help!’

He tied the rope into a noose and then pulled the other end, which tightened the rope looped over the joist and caused her to choke instantly. She had no choice but to stand up, and as he tugged harder she was forced to step up onto the chair until she was standing upright on it, looking down at her captor. Thankfully he stopped pulling at that point and secured the end of the rope to a post which was supporting the ceiling.

‘Good girl,’ said Jez. ‘Now, don’t move else you’ll fucking hang yourself.’

‘Please, why are you doing this?’ The rope made talking uncomfortable but she had to try. ‘I don’t understand. You’ve got the child. Isn’t that enough?’

Jez grinned and left the room.

‘No, please, come back.’ The tears were now streaming down her face. ‘Dad, wake up. Dad, are you okay?’

But her father remained still. She thought she could see him breathing, but if so it was only shallow. What had they done to him?

What are they going to do to me?