Last to Die: A gripping psychological thriller not for the faint hearted (17 page)

M
ike opened
his eyes and lay perfectly still. He wondered for a moment what the licence plate of the truck that hit him might have been and what critter had died in his mouth during the night.

He scratched his chest and smacked his dry lips together. The light filtering through his windows hinted at early dawn. He turned his head and saw that he was alone. He eased himself upright, went to the bathroom and gulped water straight from the tap. When he had had enough, he rinsed his face and leaned shakily on the sink, breathing slowly until his stomach stopped rolling.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt this bad. He closed his eyes and tried to remember going to bed. Despite his best efforts he could not quite nail the memory down, and was not sure if he had spoken to Jessie or not.

Feeling sick and vaguely uneasy, he made his way to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, squinting at the brightness. It took him a few beats to process the information.

Rudy was nowhere to be seen.

Maybe Jessie had let him sleep in with her last night; she did that sometimes when she was upset. He wondered how pissed she was that he had not come home after work. Maybe he should have called. He noticed the saucepan on the cooker and opened it. The smell of Italian sausage hit his stomach hard. He slammed the lid back in place with a groan.

He brewed some coffee, poured a cup and carried it outside to the back porch. The sky was brightening over the hills; oblong clouds tinged with red and purple drifted lazily by. It was warm and the air still held the faint trace of rain. He sat on the top step, sipped his coffee and watched the light grow stronger. One of the feral cats, a calico he knew Jessie favoured, crept from under the woodpile. She moved closer to him and swished her tail.

Despite his hangover, Mike realised he felt a little better about things than he had the day before. Maybe Ace was right. Maybe this shit 
would
 pass if he let it. He drank his coffee, eased himself to his feet and went inside. He poured another cup for himself and one for Jessie and walked down the corridor to the spare room.

She was not there and the bed was neatly made. Mike frowned and walked to the front of the house and looked out. Jessie’s car was not where she usually parked it, and he remembered then that her car had not been there the night before. She had to be pretty mad to stay out all night.

Mike took a shower. Shortly before seven he phoned Ace. It was a while before his brother answered, and when he did his voice was thick with sleep.

‘What?’

‘Hey, can you swing by and pick me up on the way in?’

‘Huh?’

‘Jessie didn’t come home last night. I need a ride.’

He heard Ace light a cigarette, inhale and exhale before he answered. ‘Okay?’

‘Probably she’s at Lou-Ann’s. I should have called her I guess.’

Ace offered no comment on this, so Mike hung up and chewed on his lip for a little while. He considered calling Lou-Ann but decided against it. It was too early in the morning to be broadcasting his business about town.

He made a slice of toast and forced it down, along with a glass of water. While he ate he stared at Rudy’s empty bed. That troubled him some. Why had she taken the dog? But then he figured the way things were going, unlikely and likely were kit and kin. By the time Ace arrived he was less worried and more down in the dumps about the situation than anything else. He was certainly not in any humour for small talk. Fortunately, neither was his brother. Ace drove towards town, humming tunelessly under his breath.

‘Do me a favour, swing past the Granger house.’

‘Now?’

‘Just do it, Ace.’

They turned off the main road and passed meadows and barns and numerous smallholdings. Vic Granger was a hog man, and ran a successful organic pork farm with help from his aged father, Vic Senior. Lou-Ann ran the Rockville Readers’ Circle and together the pair were probably the closest thing to friends Jessie Conway had.

Ace pulled up by the main gate to the Granger property. The house was a two-storey clapboard farmhouse, with neat railings and flowerbeds out front and industrial sheds to the rear.

‘I don’t see her car.’

Ace shrugged. ‘Could be she parked out back.’

‘Could be.’

‘Want me to drive in?’

‘Nah, let’s get to work. If she’s there she’s there, no point stirring up gossip.’

W
hen Jessie came
round she had no idea where she was or what had happened. Her head ached so badly she felt sick. It took her a few moments to work out two things. One, she was in the trunk of a car. Two, there was tape across her mouth and she couldn’t breathe.

Immediately, she panicked. She thrashed and flailed from side to side, tensing her body against the binds that held her. She tried to use her tongue to push the tape but it was pressed so tight against her skin she could barely part her teeth.

Adrenaline flooded her muscles. She strained her neck and managed to lift her head upwards towards a tiny crack of light. There, she was able to detect a tiny ribbon of diesel-tinged air. She tried to roll one shoulder under her body to get closer to the air source. It wasn’t much but it was enough to step back from the ledge of full-blown panic. Her nostrils flared as she sucked it deep into her lungs.

What was happening?

She remembered the storm. Rudy … he hadn’t come when she called so she had gone out onto the road to see if he had left the property in pursuit of something. She had been worried something had happened to him.

A car had come out of the rain, a gold-coloured sedan of some kind. She remembered a man with a beard asking if she was looking for a dog. She had run across the road towards him. Idiot. She clenched her teeth.

Now here she was, in the dark; hot, terrified, trapped, trying to suck air into her lungs through her nostrils, one of which was semi-blocked. If the other one closed she…

She rolled onto her back and arched her neck as much as possible to keep her airways open. She found it impossible to remain on her back with her hands bound behind her. Her left arm went completely numb. She had cramp in both her calf muscles.

Fear would not help her; that much she knew. She forced her breathing to slow further. Fear was the enemy. 
Breathe
. 
Breathe
. Jessie concentrated on easing the cramp. She flexed and released her muscles, flex and relax, flex and relax. Slowly she began to regain some measure of control.

Think
.

Where was she?

She was in the trunk of a car, a moving car.

How long had she been unconscious?

No idea.

Did she know the bearded man?

No.

Why had he taken her?

No idea.

What did he want with her?

She felt the flutter of panic again and clenched her aching hands into fists. Wrong question.

What did he want with her?

I do not know.

Why on earth had she kept walking towards him?

She closed her eyes.

The car in which she was travelling slowed and she heard the indicator come on. She felt it turn, heard a truck horn, then the car accelerated again.

Where was he taking her?

No idea.

Why had he taken her?

I don’t know
.

Mike would come home. He would notice she was gone. He would surely be sick with worry. Would he realise what had happened? She moaned, remembering how things had been left between them. What if that was the last time she ever saw him? When she allowed herself to picture Mike’s face her panic increased and tears began to spill from her eyes. She snuffled and choked on them, realising too late they could be her undoing.

Jessie slammed her head against the floor of the trunk and jarred herself hard enough to see stars. It hurt, but had the desired effect. Do not cry, she ordered herself; goddammit if you cry you 
will
 suffocate.

The car bounced over a pothole. Her shoulders burned from constriction.

Forget the pain. 
Think
.

She was alive. He obviously wanted her alive.

Why?

I do not know why. I am afraid.

She gritted her teeth. 
Fear will not help you
.

What did he want with her?

Whatever it is, it cannot be good.

Was he going to kill her?

Jessie clenched and unclenched her muscles, grappling with her mind. She fought until she managed to push that question back.

Time passed. She felt the car slow and turn again; no indicator was used this time. Why was that? She heard gravel, then none. Were they climbing? It felt like it.

Time passed. The pain in her shoulder was travelling in waves. She imagined it red hot, like lava. The pins and needles in her fingers were excruciating.

She wiggled onto her side again. The pain did not lessen.

Focus
.

She tried to draw her legs up closer to her body.

Breathe
.

Do not think about Mike. Do not think of the pain. Focus on something else.

Breathe
.

Concentrate
.

Think
.

Does the car seem to be travelling slower now than before?

Yes.

The surface … it’s different. Doesn’t it feel bumpy, a little rougher than before?

Yes.

Good, okay—

What does he want with me?

Stop that
.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

The car seemed to be slowing. It rumbled over what sounded like planks of wood – a bridge, Jessie guessed. They picked up speed for a while, then slowed and took another turn. Now it felt like rugged terrain. She heard the engine growl in complaint and estimated they were travelling at no more than ten miles an hour. After a while, the car stopped and Jessie heard the handbrake being lifted.

Fear will not help you, she told herself. But when the engine was shut off she trembled all the same.

M
ike arrived back
at the house a little after six. He was surprised, then annoyed, to see Jessie’s car was still not there. He parked and climbed out, observing that Rudy had not come to greet the truck as he did most evenings. His anger was fleeting: Mike was too tired and weary to sustain it.

He stepped up onto the porch and let himself in. He walked through the house to the rear. The saucepan with the Italian sausage remained on the cooker; the coffee pot from the morning was where he had left it. One of the feral cats sat on the windowsill, looking into the kitchen. It jumped down when he approached the back door and slunk across the yard to the woodpile.

Puzzled, Mike walked back through the house and checked the other rooms, but everything was as it had been that morning. There was no note, and when he checked the answering machine it was full: none of the messages were from Jessie. He called her cell phone and heard it buzz from its place on the charger in the living room.

Mike’s hand hovered over the phone. Jessie had to be really pissed to stay away like this. Why had she taken Rudy? Was that some kind of sign? Was she telling him she was gone for good? He ought to call Lou-Ann; she would surely know something.

He decided to take a shower, figuring – hoping really – that by the time he’d washed up Jessie might walk through the door.

He showered and changed into sweats. He glanced at the clock in the kitchen. It was nearly eight. He made a sandwich and sat around. At nine o’clock he was worried enough to begin making calls.

He called Lou-Ann first.

‘Lou-Ann, it’s Mike.’

‘Hello, Mike.’

He noted her formality and tried not to let it get to him.

‘Hey, Lou-Ann, I know it’s late and all but I really need to speak to Jessie.’

‘Jessie? Jessie’s not here.’

‘She didn’t stay over last night?’

‘No, I haven’t seen her. I phoned the house a bunch of times today, but she never answered, so I figured she was not in the mood for people.’

Mike felt a flicker of unease. ‘When did you hear from her last?’

‘We spoke early yesterday.’

‘How’d she sound to you?’

‘How do you think she sounded? Cut up. What is it Mike? What’s going on?’

In the background, Mike heard Lou-Ann’s children hollering and messing about.

‘It’s probably nothing. It’s … well, she’s not here and I don’t think she’s been here since yesterday, so I was wondering if maybe she mentioned stopping by.’

‘She didn’t, but if I hear from her will I get her to call you?’

‘Sure, she’s probably blowing off steam somewhere.’

‘Where?’

‘I don’t know, exactly. Maybe she’s gone to a hotel or something.’

‘Well, okay.’ Lou-Ann did not sound convinced. ‘I’d appreciate a call if you speak with her; let me know she’s okay.’

‘I can do that.’

Lou-Ann lowered her voice. ‘Goddamn it Mike, I am so mad at you right now.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘No disrespect, Mike, but with everything that woman has been through, I don’t blame her needing some time alone. I mean how much more is she supposed to take?’

Mike had no answer to that question so he said his goodbyes and hung up. He phoned a few other people Jessie was friendly with but no one had spoken to her or seen her. Finally, he called his mother. When she answered she sounded half in the bag, which was unusual to say the least.

‘Did you see Jessie at any stage today?’

‘No, I did not. I tried to call her but she wouldn’t answer.’ Mike heard ice clink against glass, then his sister Karen in the background, asking who Fay was talking with.

‘Karen’s there?’

‘Yes, she is.’

‘Makings of a fine coven.’

‘Don’t you dare, Mike, don’t you dare speak to me in that fashion.’

Mike glanced out the back window. The sun was behind the hills now, the sky the colour of a fresh bruise. Shortly, the valley would descend into complete darkness.

‘Ask Karen if she’s seen her.’

‘She hasn’t, Mike. I’d know if she had. What is it, what’s going on?’

‘I got home from work and Jessie wasn’t here.’

‘I’m sure she’s … maybe she’s at Lou-Ann Granger’s place.’

‘I already called her. She hasn’t seen or spoken to her since yesterday. Rudy’s gone too.’

‘Well there you go then.’ Fay let out a small sigh.

‘I don’t think she was here last night either.’

‘Your sister wants a word.’

‘No.’

‘Hold on, I’ll put her on to you.’

Mike hung up. He took Jessie’s cell phone and his own and left the house. He checked the barns and surrounding sheds, keeping a tight lid on any emotions that tried to rise. The cats shadowed him as he walked. They were clearly hungry. He tried to sell himself the story that she was visiting with friends. She had been angry and upset – stood to reason she might want some time alone – but to leave and not write a note or take her phone with her? That didn’t sit right with him. If she was mad with him that was okay, he decided. She could be mad at him, she could be mad as hell. He only wanted to hear her voice.

Where would she have gone?

He walked back down to the house, stood on the porch and looked out into the gathering darkness. He had no clue what to do or where to start looking.

She seemed so down, so very depressed.

Shut up
.

This is out of character.

I said shut the hell up
.

But still the voice persisted.

She’s been depressed since the school shooting, you can’t say you haven’t noticed. Now with all this dirt from her past being flung in her face … Lou-Ann was right; how much more was she expected to take?

He balled his hands into fists. Inside the house the phone began to ring. He hurried into the house and snatched it up.

‘Jessie?’

‘Hey Mike, it’s Karen.’

Mike glanced at the clock on the wall.

‘Is everything all right? What’s going on?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a bad feeling.’

‘Oh Mike, I’m sure she’s out somewhere, driving around. Mom said the dog was gone too.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well there you go. She’s probably staying with a friend until she can get her thoughts straight or something.’

‘Maybe so.’

‘Mom told me she had words with her.’

‘She did.’

‘Well, she’s not the sort of woman who keeps things bottled up. She’s sorry that it came to that.’

‘I know she is.’

‘I tried phoning Jessie yesterday and she didn’t answer or anything, but I figured she didn’t want to talk about … well what Darla Levine was talking about. Not that I have any real thoughts on the subject, although I do feel Jessie could have spoken to us about it. I mean we 
are
 family.’

‘Karen, I need to get off the line in case she’s trying to get through.’

‘Okay, call me when you hear something.’

‘Will do.’

Mike hung up and stood listening to the stillness of his home. Despite his best efforts, he felt a sensation rise within him and thought of how ironic it was that he recognised it so easily.

Dread, he was feeling dread.