WILL TIME WAIT: Boxed set of 3 bestselling 'ticking clock' thrillers (43 page)

“Look
at yourselves.  You’re a disgrace.”  I stamped on Kerry’s foot. 
“I’ve got zero respect for you right now.  Let go.” 

Kerry
tugged my hair again. 

I
was her puppet.  My head jolted back and forth controlled by strands of
hair. 

Painful
memories of my husband flooded my brain.  Kerry was Alan in the form of a
raging mother.  Tears rolled down my cheeks.  My knees went
weak.  I knew this feeling well.  Too well.

I took
several deep breaths and got ahold of myself.  I had pretty much reached
tip over point.  A primitive anger rushed through my body, overwhelming me
with its familiar intensity.  My insides contracted and I shook with fear
and rage.  Instead of cowering, I had to harness my emotions or I’d
forever be shadowed by my old, weaker self, a prisoner to Alan’s controlling
ways. 

No
one is going to hurt me ever again.
 

“Crazy
bitch!”  I threw my right arm over my left shoulder and twisted
around.  I grabbed the top of Kerry’s arm and dug my nails in until she
screamed, shocking myself. 

She
squirmed sideways, pulling harder and practically hanging from my hair to stay
upright. 

I
clenched my left fist and raised my arm, ready to plant my elbow in her
ribs.  But someone shouted from downstairs.  The voice sounded
rushed, breathless.

I
paused, staring out onto the landing.

Kerry
straightened and relaxed her grip on me.

“Where
are you all?  Hello?”  It was John.  “Anyone home?  You
could have told me there are two number elevens on this street.”

I
heaved a weighty sigh.  Just what I didn’t need.  Another irrational
person to contend with.

J
ohn came surging
up the stairs like a projectile from hell.  He halted at the bathroom doorway
and threw a hand against the frame.  “You’re not gonna believe...” he
broke off, took a breath and stared.  “What on earth is going on in
here?”  He dropped a navy duffel bag between his feet.  “Well?” 

“Dylan
was gonna phone the cops,” Kerry explained.  “We can’t let him.  Tell
him, John.  We’ll get sent down for dealing.”

Dylan
started groaning on the floor.  A gritty, breathy sound.  The pain
from cracking his head on the toilet must have hit him.

“John,”
I said.  “Please tell your rottweiler girlfriend to get her claws off me
so I can see to Dylan.”

“Kerry.”
 He glared at her.  “Cut it out.”

Reluctantly,
Kerry released my hair.  John pulled her into an awkward hug, making me
wonder if it was just to get her away from me. 

I
ran a flannel under the cold tap, dropped to my knees and pressed it against
the back of Dylan’s head.  “How’s that?”

His
face screwed up, and then he nodded.

Dylan
twisted sideways.

I
began peeling the duct tape off his wrists.  “I can’t believe they did
this,” I muttered.

“Leave
him,” Steve said.  “Sorry Bro, but until I can trust you, you stay tied up
until we decide what to do about Kate.”

“About
who?” John asked.

Dylan
scuttled closer and whispered in my ear, “Don’t let Steve pull this Kate crap
on you.  She’ll be fine.  Ignore him and get this tape off me.”
 A wicked determination filled his eyes.  Given half a chance, he’d
grab for a phone again.

I
glanced at everyone, pictured Kate and Elliot, and then stared down at the bag
sandwiched between John’s feet. 

The
drugs.  In Dylan’s house.  If the cops turned up it would not look
good for any of us.

I
shifted slightly on my knees, let the duct tape fall away from my fingers.

“Jenna?”
Dylan said, softening his eyes at me.

My
heart wanted to release him, but my head told me to wait.  I had a moment
of doubt regarding Kate, the drugs, Kerry...  “I s’pose... The thing is...
umm,” I babbled, unsure.  The dilemma made me ache inside. 

John
tapped my shoulder.  “Here,” he said, holding out a mobile phone.  It
was mine.  “Before you do anything, Jenna, you should read this
text.”  There was something unnerving about the way he looked at me.

I
took my mobile from John.  There was a text message already on the screen
sent from my husband’s phone. 

Everyone
went quiet to listen.

I
cleared my throat, then read the message out loud from the cracked
screen: 

“Congratulations
on your escape.  Impressive.  But not to worry, we have another
little guest on the way.”

I
paused.  My heart gave a jolt.  “Another hostage?  Is that what this
means?” I shrieked, and then continued reading out loud: 

“Someone
I think you’ll want to see again.  Do I need to spell out what we’ll do to
our new guest if you breathe a word to the cops?” 
I gasped, the
phone felt like a hot rock melting the skin on my palm. 
Alan,
I
growled in my head, you
bastard. 
“Alan didn’t type this,” I
said.  “He must have got one of his men to do it.”

“Who
is it?” Kerry cried.  “Who’ve they got?”

I
looked at everyone, unsure.

A
disturbing silence ensued.

“Oh
my God.”  Kerry gasped, stumbling into the door frame.  “
Little
guest!
  It’s not... Is it...?  I knew something was off when mum
didn’t answer my call.  It had better not be...”  Her gaze shot up to
John.  “Elliot?”

John
scratched his head.  “That’s quite a leap.”

“A
leap?” Dylan said.  “It’s a bloody moon jump!”

Kerry
glared at him.  “So where is my son?  I knew something was off. 
My mum’s not answering the phone.  She always answers.”

“There
could be a dozen reasons,” I said, trying to calm her.  But the fact
remained that someone was in danger.  I bit my lip and stared at Dylan,
throwing him an apologetic look.  I wasn’t close enough to hear, but I
knew he was cursing under his breath.  He knew I wouldn’t untie him now
and risk him phoning the police.  Not now these people had a ‘new guest’
and had threatened to harm him or her.  By the time we’d explained
everything to the cops, it might be too late for whoever this hostage was if
the men discovered we’d made the call.

Kerry
whipped the mobile out of my hand.  “I have to phone mum again.”  She
fiddled with my mobile.  “How do you work this thing?”  After I told
her what to press, she dialed, held the phone to her ear and bunched John’s
sleeve in her fist.  Tears slid down her cheeks while she waited. 
“Come on, mum,” she pleaded.  “Pick up.” 

For
a moment, none of us said anything.  I waited.  Cold massed in my
stomach like a great rolling snowball. 
Who could my husband have
taken?

Kerry’s
small frame jittered in panic.  “Why isn’t she answering?”

“Don’t
assume the worst,” Dylan said.  “Maybe they went out for a walk. 
It’s not raining anymore.”

“Mum’s
practically a hermit, and she always answers the phone.”  Kerry stared at
me again, and then burst into tears.  “They’ve got Elliot.  I just
know your husband has my son.”

I
welled up.  “Why do you think that?  I mean, how would he know who
Elliot is?”

Something
widened Kerry’s eyes.  “Elliot’s missing and your husband has a new
little
hostage.  Do the sums!”

Dylan
flicked his chin up.  “What about your neighbours?  Couldn’t they
have gotten him?”

John
shook his head.  “Impossible.”  He sounded so sure.  “Besides,
it’s not like I’m late delivering the drugs.”  He glanced at his
watch.  “Well, maybe by a half hour or so.  Perhaps it is our
neighbour.  Maybe he got nervous because we disappeared last night, and he
decided to hunt Elliot down.”

Kerry
shook her head.  “It’s not our neighbour.  My mum moved house
recently.  Since he threatened Elliot, we’ve been careful not to let him
know where she moved to.” 

John
ran a hand over his stubbled chin.  “Then maybe it is your husband who’s
got him.  I bet we left something behind in the retreat, Kerry. 
Something with your mum’s new address on it, her phone number...  I just
don’t know.”  He rubbed Kerry’s back.  “Oh, hell.  This is
bad.  Keep dialing.”

The
next passing seconds felt like the end of time.  The mood blackened
further while we waited for news. 

Kerry,
now puffy-eyed and hysterical, kept the phone pressed against her ear. 
Still no answer.  “John,” she sobbed.  “We have to drive over there.”

I
glanced around, thinking, picturing who else my husband and his idiot meatheads
could have taken.  When my gaze landed on Dylan, I pretty much tranced
out.  This weekend should have been a wet-dream getaway for us, but it
wasn’t.  Just when I thought we’d broken out of the worst of it, along
came another spurt of torture.  People were getting hurt because I left my
husband.  Because I wanted a better life.  It wasn’t fair.  It
was a nightmare straight from the pit of hell, and whatever it took, it had to
end now. 

Steve
folded his arms across his chest.  “Surely he wouldn’t drag a kid into
it?  That’s just sick.”

I
massaged the bridge of my nose and muttered, “Alan is sick.”  Elliot or
not, my husband was holding someone against their will. 

“Still
no answer.”  Kerry’s posture snapped up straight.  “There’s only one
option, Jenna.  If your husband has my son, you’ll have to go home and
rescue him.”

I
flinched.  “What?”

She
shrugged.  “After all, it’s your fault.  You said yourself that this
whole weekend has been about your husband wanting to punish you and get you
back.”  Kerry didn’t look at me while she said this.  Perhaps if she
had stared into my eyes the words would have been harder to push out.

“Have
you lost your mind, Kerry?” Dylan snapped.

She
turned her fire-filled eyes on him.  “No.  I haven’t.”  She took
a breath and looked at me.  “I’m sorry, Jenna, but if your husband hadn’t
wiped our bank accounts, we wouldn’t be tangled up in this mess.  Elliot
would be at home where he should be.  Let’s face it, he’s not going to
give Elliot up to one of us, is he?  Not when this is all about
you
.”

“He’ll
shoot us,” John croaked.  “Well, me at least.  His heavies think I’m
Dylan.”

“Exactly.” 
Kerry turned to me.  “It’s not us he wants.  He wants
you
!”

“You’re
being ridiculous,” Dylan said.  “You’re talking like you know for certain
that he’s taken Elliot.”

I
rubbed Dylan’s leg.  “Whoever the hostage is, Kerry’s right about one
thing.  No one else should go near Alan, especially not a man.  It’s
too risky in the mood he’ll be in.  If he even suspects that one of you is
Dylan, he’ll... well, let’s not think about that.”

“Once
Elliot is safe,” Kerry snivelled, “we’ll find a way to get you out of
there.  I promise, Jenna.”  She said this as though it was a done
deal, like I’d already agreed to go home.

“Promise? 
How can you promise to—“  I broke off, bewildered.  She would
probably say anything right now to get her son back.

Dylan
heaved a sigh.  “Do you realise what you are asking of her, Kerry?”

I
continued looking at Kerry.  If Alan had her son - which wasn’t a
ridiculous conclusion after all he’d put us through – then I knew it wouldn’t
take a miracle to save him, just one single act of bravery.  My chest
tightened at the mere thought of returning home, like my bra was suddenly too
small and squeezing my ribs.  

“I’m
sorry, but I can’t do it.”  I immediately buried the idea, but then,
somewhere in the basement of my mind, I heard the echo of a young child
bawling, and my flesh went cold.  It was Elliot, of course.  I could
not explain how, but his imaginary cries embedded in my guilty mind. 
Every note yanked a heart string.  The question was, if Elliot got hurt
because of me, could I live with myself? 

No. 

But
I also couldn’t return to my husband.  It would be like placing my head
beneath a dropping blade. 

I
shifted focus to Dylan.  It would probably only be a matter of time before
Alan caught up with him, figured out he wasn’t John.  I’d be facing this
same dilemma over the guy who was stealing my heart.

While
Kerry cursed her mum for not answering the phone, I leaned over Dylan and
kissed him.  My lips barely brushed his.  It was too painful to kiss
him with any passion.  I knew I had to drop him out of my life to stop
Alan gunning for him next. 

Dylan
tried to meet my eyes but I turned away and started to push myself up off the
floor.  It stung me to say, “I’ll phone Alan, suss out whether he has
Elliot.  And if he does...”  The moment I spoke, head-spinning
memories of my old life crashed back, as though the vertical lip of a giant
wave had collapsed over my head, pounding and drowning me.  I’d worked so
hard to find myself again.  Could I let that get washed away?  “... I-I’ll
do what I can... but...” I said, my voice quavering, unsure what I really
meant. 

“What?”
 Steve frowned.  “You mean you’d go back?  Are you nuts?”

I
couldn’t say no aloud, not with Kerry staring at me so sharply.   I
sensed Kerry’s worry, but also her relief that I was perhaps considering
it. 

Dylan
propped up on one elbow.  “Over my dead body!” 

“Probably
will be,” I mumbled, then looked pointedly at Dylan.  “And
you
...
you have to disappear.  No arguments.  No ifs and buts. 
Vanish!”

Dylan
reached his bound hands up to grab me.   “You don’t know what you’re
saying.”

I
averted my gaze.  “I’d rather stick pins in my eyes than go back
home.  But things have gone too far and other people are getting
hurt.  Alan will just keep gunning for us... for you, for everyone I know
until he wins. 
Why did I ever think I’d be able to leave my
marriage? 
Everyone has to stay away from me from now on.”

“Sit
down,” Dylan insisted.  “No one’s going to hurt a child, or you, me, or
anyone.”  He didn’t believe that.  I could tell from his voice.

“Are
you deaf?”  Kerry snapped, lowering the mobile.  “Didn’t you listen
when Jenna read that text message to us?  About her husband threatening to
hurt
the ‘new’ guest’?”

 “She’s
right.” I took a deep breath.  “Believe me when I say it’s not a
bluff.  Whoever he’s holding as hostage is in danger.  I don’t know
what to do here, but I can’t live with the thought that they might do something
like
this
—“  I lifted my jumper, exposing the sore patch where the
stun gun had burned my skin.  “—to a five-year-old, or to... anyone. 
Or something worse.”