BACKWOODS RIPPER: a gripping action suspense thriller (13 page)

She folded up the letter and put it back on the pile. Knowing what set Lizzy on her path of kidnapping and murder wouldn’t help Paige escape; if anything it only made the situation more terrifying because, with her father gone and the hospital closed, Lizzy had nothing to lose.

It was as if the temperature of the air changed. The hairs on Paige’s arms stood up and she felt something sinister closing in on her; the feeling almost palpable in its intensity. Something was loose in the house. Something wild and ominous had broken free of whatever it is that keeps people from doing all the wicked things that whisper to them in their darkest moments. She could feel that something gathering force. She knew if she didn’t get away from Mable House, it would infect her too.

Paige picked up the shotgun, noticing its weight, she hefted it under her arm then snatched up the keys and shells. She left the suite of rooms as quickly as possible, pausing only to close the door to the sitting room behind her. The back stairs groaned and the screen door clanked.

Paige froze, her legs felt heavy, as if filled with sand. The ancient floorboards in the kitchen groaned. Even if she knew how to load the shells into the shotgun, she’d never manage it before Lizzy reached the sitting room. She scanned the room looking for somewhere to stow the items. Running out of time, she flipped back one of the drop sheets covering the furniture. A cloud of dust flew up and swirled around her like mosquitoes. Underneath was a high-backed padded hospital chair. Holding her breath to avoid inhaling the dust, she put the gun, shells and keys on the chair and pulled the sheet over it.

Her impulse was to run upstairs and tell Hal what she’d found. She wanted to be anywhere but near Lizzy who, Paige feared, would know what she’d done just by looking at her. Instead of running, she pushed her shoulders back and walked into the kitchen.

It was as if nothing had happened. As though Lizzy hadn’t murdered a man in front of Paige and then hit her to the ground. Lizzy, standing by the sink washing her hands, turned when Paige entered the room and gestured to a large metal pail sitting on the draining board.

“Fresh marron,” Lizzy said pleasantly, her face still smudged with grease. “They’re a good size too. I’m going to cook them as soon as I get some water boiling.”

It took Paige a second to process Lizzy’s words. It seemed Wade was forgotten and now it was time for this fresh horror. Paige could hear the crayfish scrambling over each other, their pincers clacking and hitting the inside of the pail. It sounded like bones scraping across a tin roof.

“I’m allergic to shellfish,” Paige said, swallowing the sick feeling that threatened to turn into another bout of vomiting.” She took a step forward and grasped the edge of the table as a wave of wooziness swept over her.

“You didn’t mention that earlier,” Lizzy snapped and tapped the side of the pail. The marron clattered frantically, a black claw appeared over the top.

“Didn’t I?” Paige gave a dry chuckle. “I’m all over the place lately.”

Lizzy held her gaze a little longer than necessary before turning away. “You’ll have to fix yourself something then. I’m not cooking two meals; this isn’t a hotel.” She spoke rapidly, her words like machine gun fire.

The swing in the woman’s moods, from pleasant to angry, was becoming worse. Or maybe Paige was more aware of the constant shift because she’d seen what Lizzy could do when she got angry.

“I’ll just fix a sandwich for me and Hal, if that’s alright?” Paige wasn’t hungry, but she needed to eat. She needed her strength for the baby and to go through with what she had planned.

“Suit yourself,” Lizzy said with a shrug, and started opening cupboards.

Paige pushed away from the table and made her way to the fridge on legs that felt like they were made of pudding. Her body was coming down hard from the adrenalin surge that started when Wade arrived and had carried her through the search of Lizzy’s bedroom. Now she needed food and rest.

She opened the fridge and took out a block of cheese and a tomato. Then turned back to the table and opened the bread bin. She assembled the sandwiches in silence, sharing the room with the woman who had mutilated her husband and killed a man in front of her, as if all that had happened took a back seat to the mundane task of food preparation.

Lizzy lit the burner on the stove and a faint smell of gas filled the room. The woman turned from the stove and regarded Paige as if seeing her for the first time that day.

“Urgh, you’re filthy,” Lizzy said drawing her brows together. “I’ll fetch you something clean to put on, but that dress will have to go.”

I’m drenched in a dead man’s blood
. “Thanks,” she said and sliced a cheese and tomato sandwich in half.

Lizzy bustled out of the kitchen. The door to her living quarters opened with a clack.
Did I close the bedroom door?
Paige stopped what she was doing and turned to listen. Had she left everything as she’d found it or was there something she’d overlooked? Paige tried to remember how far open Soona’s door had been when she’d hid behind it. Would Lizzy notice if it had moved?

* * *

Paige found it difficult to breathe, her throat felt tight and constricted. She tried to cut another sandwich, but her hands shook too badly. She took a plate from the shelf over the stove, the crockery clattered in her grasp. The plate slipped from her hand, only saved by her quick reflexes.

When Lizzy came back into the kitchen, Paige didn’t look up, afraid the anxiety she felt might be written on her face.

“Here,” Lizzy said.

The crack of the woman’s voice made Paige flinch. If Lizzy noticed anything amiss, she gave no indication. She tossed a grey dress over the top of one of the kitchen chairs.

“Put that on before you eat,” she ordered. “Then give me that dress and I’ll burn it. It’s not the sort of thing a woman in your condition should be wearing in the first place.”

She made it sound like disposing of evidence was the most natural thing in the world, and she was in fact doing Paige a favour by helping her correct a fashion blunder.

Paige wanted to scream in the woman’s face, rage at her for what she’d done to Hal and Wade. The urge swept through her like a cyclone. She longed to open her mouth and let every ugly thought she had spew out. Maybe it was the constant fear or the shock of the things she’d seen or just the bombastic tone in Lizzy’s voice when she ordered Paige to get changed, but Paige could feel herself tipping over the edge of sanity. It was like standing at the top of a steep flight of stairs and leaning forward. If you let yourself go, you’d be badly hurt, but pulling back keeps getting harder.

Paige looked down at the knife sitting next to the pate of sandwiches. It was no bigger than a steak knife with a dark brown handle held in place by a brass screw. If she picked it up and pushed it into Lizzy’s thick, veiny neck, all her problems would be over.

Lizzy turned to the pail, reached into the bucket and pulled out a struggling marron. Without hesitation, she plunged the creature into the now boiling pot of water. It flayed and struggled, trying in vain to leap out of the scorching water.

Paige curled her fingers around the handle of the knife.
Would the woman’s skin offer much resistance? How long did it take a person to bleed to death?
In the movies, it usually happened within seconds, but reality was much more brutal. Would Lizzy writhe on the floor for half an hour?
Good, do it
, the cold dark voice insider her urged.
Four days, that’s how long it takes to torture someone into killing for survival
, Paige thought without emotion.

She held the knife at her side and stepped around the table. Across the room, she could see the back of Lizzy’s neck, sun damaged and criss-crossed with lines.
Once you start stabbing, keep going till she goes down
, the voice whispered.

Three steps and she’d be across the room, directly behind the woman. She couldn’t hesitate, she’d have to act before Lizzy turned. If she didn’t strike immediately, and Lizzy realised her goal, she wouldn’t get another chance.
She’ll cut the baby out of your womb and let you die
, the voice warned. Paige knew it was true, time was running out. She had a plan, but this would be easier, quicker.

She took a step but the whack of the screen door halted her progress. Paige’s head snapped around at the same time Lizzy’s did. Soona shuffled into the kitchen, her jeans and shirt streaked with dirt, hands stained with grime. She stopped near the end of the table as if listening to a faraway sound that only she could hear.

Paige held the knife against her leg and stepped back to the sandwiches. Soona’s distant countenance sparked a flicker of recognition that triggered a memory. She recognised her as the toddler in the old photo. Until that moment, Paige had assumed Soona was Lizzy’s sister. They looked similar and Soona’s age could be anywhere between thirty-five and fifty; it was difficult to tell. But now it dawned on her,
Soona is Lizzy’s child.

Paige snatched up the grey dress Lizzy had left for her and hurried through the sitting room. She’d been about to kill a woman in front of her own child. It hadn’t been a passing thought; she’d really meant to do it. The detached coldness of her mind only a moment ago seemed ghastly. How could she have contemplated such a thing only hours after watching the life disappear from Wade’s eyes? Paige looked down at herself, still covered in blood. It stained her dress, her face, even her legs.

She made it to the dormitory and closed the door. She leaned against the bed and sucked in huge breaths; shuddering sobs built in her throat. Paige stumbled into the tiny wash room and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair stood up in wild peaks, flecked with red. A gash on her right cheek looked stark against her puffy swollen face. But most shocking was the look in her sunken eyes: haunted, vacant. Eyes so empty anything could take up residence behind them.

Paige realised she still held the knife. She tossed it in the sink; it struck the porcelain with a clank. She reached down and ripped the bloody dress over her head. It reminded her of the smell in the room after Lizzy cut off Hal’s leg. She gagged and threw the dress on the floor. It landed on the cracked tiles with a wet plopping sound. She removed her phone from its hiding place in her bra, and put it near the dress.

Stripped down to her underwear, she turned on the cold tap, scooped up handfuls of water and threw them in her face, gasping at the cold shock. Desperate to cleanse herself, she grabbed the towel from the rack and soaked the end under the water. She used it to scrub her face and arms, then her chest. The air in the tiny bathroom grew heavy with the coppery smell of blood.

She ran the towel under the water again and again, scrubbing until her skin felt bruised and the cut on her cheek opened up. When she stopped, she was dripping wet, shivering in a puddle of water. Before turning away, she regarded herself in the mirror once more.
I’m slipping away. Lizzy’s destroying me and something awful is trying to take my place
.

Paige pulled on the grey dress and felt the stiff fabric clinging to her damp body. It was too large, but it covered her from calf to elbow and helped ease the chills. She longed to curl up on the squeaky single bed and sleep. It would be such a release to close her eyes and forget, just for a while. The temptation to give up pushed against her will, but if she gave in, what would happen to Hal? The baby?

She stooped down and retrieved the phone; the battery was getting low so she turned it off. She’d need it later. For a moment she considered the knife, still sitting in the sink, a glimmer of light winking off the blade. She’d almost done something horrific. Something that would change her in a way beyond recovery. She ran her finger over her bottom lip, then sighed and took it out of the sink.
Only if there’s no other way
, she thought and shoved it in the deep pockets of her new dress.

Chapter Sixteen

Shadows crept across the floor in a pattern Hal had grown all too familiar with. Judging by the soft quality of the light from the small window and the elongation of the rectangle it cast on the scuffed boards, he guessed it must be nearly three o’clock. Not that time mattered much at Mable House. His days were an endless marathon of pain and fear. The only bright spot was Paige. In the moments they were together, he felt hope. And now that he’d made the decision to take action, his mind seemed clearer than it had since pulling into the carpark at the cheese factory.

But clear thinking wasn’t enough, he needed to come up with a way to put thoughts into action. He surveyed the room: four walls, a cupboard, his bed and locker, a chair and the trolley. Not much to work with. He shifted his weight from one cheek to the other, his backside numb from sitting in one position. But nothing compared to the pain in his legs.

He forced his mind away from all that and back to the matter at hand. It had been more than an hour since Paige left in search of the keys. He had no way of knowing if she’d found them or if Lizzy caught her searching. Hell, Paige might have the keys and be driving off the property right now. No, if she was gone, Lizzy would’ve come straight up to his room and by now, another part of his body would be on hospital floor.

As much as he wanted to believe his wife and baby were safe, he knew sitting in bed with his ass going numb meant Paige was still here.

“Fuck,” he swore aloud, just to hear himself speak.

Lying in bed, a helpless invalid, made him think of his father. A once strong, independent man, now frail and confused. At sixty-six, George Loche should have been enjoying his retirement. Playing golf, maybe even starting a romance with the woman that ran the local deli. Hal tried to remember her name - Lorna? Linda? Something with
L
. She had a thing for his old man, no doubt about it.

Hal recalled stopping at the shop with his dad, two or three years ago. The woman, Lisa. Yes, he was sure her name was Lisa, had red hair and a curvy figure. When his old man entered the shop, Lisa lit up. Her cheeks flushed with pleasure and there was a girlish quality to the way she said his dad’s name.
George
, she made the word sound warm and pleasing on her tongue.

“She’s got the hots for you,” he’d told his dad on their way home.

“Cut it out.” His father’s face coloured, but there was a twinkle of devilish laughter in his voice.

Now his father wasted away in a home. His eyes ringed with milky confusion, sometimes crying when Hal visited him; he couldn’t remember his son’s name. Hal wondered if anyone bothered to tell Lisa why his father stopped dropping in for his daily paper. Maybe she noticed the old man going downhill and put two and two together? Still, he should’ve made the time to let Lisa know what happened.

Hal blinked away tears.
Fuck, I’m turning into a cry-baby
. He looked at the trolley next to his bed. An array of tape, gauze, and bandages, but nothing useful unless he planned on wrapping tape around Lizzy’s mouth and nose to smother her. Watching her, the terror growing in her eyes as she struggled to breathe, would be satisfying but unpractical. His gaze drifted downwards and he frowned. Something slim and metallic stuck out from under the bed.

He craned his neck to the side and a pair of scissors with unusually long, pointed blades lay amongst the layers of dust covering the floor.

The clanging and gurgling of water echoed in the ancient plumbing system. Apart from a few doors closing, it was the first sign of movement downstairs in a long while. It could mean Lizzy was on the move. She might be getting ready to mutilate him once more. Just the thought gave him the jolt he needed to get moving. He gripped the left side of the bed, along the metal bar below the mattress, and gradually leaned his body over the right side, his arm outstretched.

The movement lifted his left hip off the bed and with it his thigh. His stump shifted to the left and barbs of pain swirled in his severed bone. He hissed through his teeth, froze like a tightrope walker trying to regain his balance. He allowed himself a couple of shaky breaths, then continued reaching under the bed.

His fingers brushed the floor. He could feel a fine film of dust moving under his touch. He turned his head to track his progress. The handle of the scissors was less than five centimetres away. He swallowed hard then leaned out farther. This time his stump protested, but with less force than he expected. His forefinger curled around the handle and he looped the scissors onto the crook of his finger.

“Yes!” The cry of triumph came out as a croak. Then, “Oh shit.” As his left hand slipped. He almost lost his grip on the bed.

Dropping the scissors, he watched in dumb silence as they skittered under the trolley. He stared at them as he leaned over the edge of the bed, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. He had them. The handle had looped around his finger. All he needed to do was straighten up and he’d managed to fuck it up.
How are you going to kill that crazy woman if you can’t even hang on to a pair of scissors?

“I’m not done yet,” he said to himself and grabbed the leg of the trolley.

If he rolled it back towards the bed, he might be able to push the scissors closer. It was worth a try. All he had to risk was falling out of bed, landing on his broken leg, and squirming on the floor in agony. He gave a humourless chuckle and pulled the trolley towards him.

The back wheel snagged the circular handle of the scissors and pushed it in the direction of the bed. Hal resisted the urge to cheer, and kept the trolley steady on its course. Sweat ran down his nose and landed in small plops on the floor.

Hal let go of the trolley and gripped the long blades of the scissors. This time, he carefully clenched his hand around them before trying to lift himself back into bed. The boards on the landing outside his room groaned. He had less than two seconds to hoist himself into a sitting position and get the scissors out of sight.

His left arm quivered but held. He worked every ounce of strength he had in his bicep and pulled himself into a sitting position. In one fluid motion, he swept the scissors under his pillow. As his hand disappeared behind him, the door rattled and opened.

“Paige.” It came out as a deep exhale.

Hal sagged onto the bed and blew out another breath. A jagged pain pierced his chest and he wondered if thirty-two was too young to have a heart attack.

“Hal,” she said, her eyes wide with concern. “Are you in pain? You’re covered in sweat.”

She held a plate of sandwiches in one hand, and closed the door behind her with the other.

“No. I’m fine. I’ve just been leaning over to pick something up,” he said and pulled the scissors out for her to see. The light glinted off the blades giving them an evil gleam.

Paige grimaced and put the sandwiches on the locker. She looked different; sure, she’d changed her clothes, but different in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. She leaned over him and pressed her lips against his. They felt soft and cool, but the kiss was tight. He circled her in his arms and traced his hands over her back. Her shoulders felt small and frail, the bones more pronounced then he remembered.

“I found the keys,” she whispered.

When she pulled away, he noticed the dark smudges under her eyes and the thin line now etched between then. She looked exhausted and fragile. All his struggles and worries seemed petty and selfish. She’d witnessed a murder, been hit to the ground, and then searched the house while a mad woman hovered nearby. She’d done all this only months from giving birth.

“Paige, I want you to stay here with me. When Lizzy comes in, I’m going to kill her. That’s why I’ve got the scissors.”

She shook her head and sat in the chair facing him. “I can’t stay. Too many things could go wrong.” Her mouth was set in a thin line and her blue eyes flittered around the room. She looked skittish, as if having trouble staying seated.

“I can’t keep letting you go out there and risk yourself and the baby,” he said gently.

“You’re the one who told me to go and not come back,” Paige snapped.

The edge in her voice surprised him. It must’ve shown on his face because the next time she spoke her tone was more controlled. “Just hear me out. I’ve given this a lot of thought and I think it’ll work.”

“I can’t protect you out there,” he gestured at the door. The more he thought about it, the more he was determined she stay.

“You can’t protect me in here,” she said in a flat emotionless voice he barely recognised.

The impact of her words made Hal flinch inwardly.
She’s saddled with a cripple
, Lizzy’s voice echoed in his mind. He’d tried to believe he was still the same man, but even his own wife didn’t trust him to protect her. Not when it came down to life or death. He was a liability to her
and
the baby.

“I’m sorry if that sounded harsh,” she said softly. “But I won’t hide in here and wait for her to come and get me.”

Hal nodded and glanced at the scissors in his hand. They looked small. He didn’t blame Paige for not trusting his ability to keep her safe; when push came to shove, he couldn’t even stand.

She put her hand over his. “Just hear me out. I think there’s a way to get us both out of here without the need for any more bloodshed.”

He wanted to pull her into his arms and promise her he could protect her. But he knew the man he’d been four days ago was gone. Lizzy’s words rang in his ears, shaking him in their grip. The best thing he could do for his wife was to let her go. He nodded for her to continue.

“When I was searching for the keys, I found the shotgun. When she’s asleep, I’ll bring it in here and leave it with you. That way, if she comes up here and tries anything, you can protect yourself and …”

“Wait.” Hal held up his hand. “If you have the shotgun, just give it to me now and we’ll wait for her. Or call her in here.” He paused. “I know I’m not … Not what I used to be, but I can still fire a gun.”

“Hal,” she said. “You haven’t changed.” But as she spoke, her eyes shifted to the window and her fingers twisted nervously in her lap. “It’s not about how weak or strong you are; it’s about getting us out of here in one piece. If you miss, she might have other guns.” She circled her arm in the air. “Or, she might leave us here to starve. She’s capable of anything. I won’t take the chance.” She looked back at him and held his gaze. “I won’t let
you
take the chance. I can’t lose you.” The last four words came out clipped and wavering.

He wanted to argue, but knew she was right. If his aim was off, Lizzy could get away and come back shooting. They couldn’t risk a gun battle, not with the baby to think about.

“Okay,” he said. “Tell me the plan.”

He listened to her talk with a growing mixture of excitement and unease. She started slowly and then her words tumbled out in an urgent whisper. He’d never seen his wife like this. A stranger, who looked like Paige, had taken her place. He’d always known she was strong, stronger than she gave herself credit for, but this woman was fearless and determined. The detached quality to her stare seemed alien on a woman who couldn’t watch sad movies because they upset her for days.

When she’d finished, she said, “Well? What do you think?”

But Hal knew what she was really asking. “Yes, I’m up to it,” he said, and hoped to God he was.