WILL TIME WAIT: Boxed set of 3 bestselling 'ticking clock' thrillers (79 page)

“I... I’ll tell Christa what we just did!”  Claire
perched her hand on her hip and pouted.  “Think she’ll want you after
that?  If it wasn’t for that phone call...”

Brian swung around.  “You wouldn’t.”

Faced with his burning, challenging look, she said in a
deathly hush, “Come back inside, or yes, I’ll tell her.  Try me.”

CHRISTA

“C
hrista!”
Nicola shouted, running upstairs.

I shook water from my hair, crossed my arms over my breasts
and faced the bathroom door.

Nicola caught her breath and flipped her thumb up. 
“I’m finished.  All the photos are... Whoa! 
This
is your distraction?”

I shrugged.  “Didn’t have much time to think.” 
Wishing I could forget about the whole thing, I turned the shower off and
stepped out onto the floor mat.  “All done?”

“Yes.”  Nicola grabbed a towel off the rail and tossed
it to me.

“The photos are gonna stay up?  They’re not swaying?”

“Yes.  Stop worrying.  I think this’ll work.”

“Excellent.”  Keeping my back to the camera, I towelled
off and tied my wet hair into a ponytail.  Nice to know we could now move
around the house without being watched – well, at least downstairs.  “Let
me grab some clothes and then we’ll ring the police.”

Nicola sniffed the air.  “Is that lime?”

“Yeah.  Shower gel I got for my birthday.  You’re
welcome to use it.”

Nicola turned to run downstairs, so eager than she tripped
and almost fell on the top step.

“Whoa!  Steady,” I said, grabbing her by the wrist.

She looked at me and winced.  “Thanks.”  She flew
downstairs and I dashed to my bedroom.  I hurriedly squeezed into faded
jeans and tossed my bath towel aside, my mind jumping forward in anticipation
of the police arresting everyone.  We’d have a victory buffet
tonight.  Yes.  Pizza, nibbles, garlic bread – think I’ve got a
ciabatta loaf in the freezer.   “Hey, Nic.  How long d’ya think
it’ll take the police to get here?”

Sarah will love a buffet.
  It might put a smile
back on her sad little face.  

I flicked the light off and left my room. 

“What did you say?” Nicola shouted up the stairs.

While pulling on a slouchy grey top, my mouth started to
water at the thought of food and freedom.  “Fancy making some of your
famous cakeballs later?”  I jogged onto the landing. 

Glass shattered downstairs, startling me. 

What the...?  “Nicola?  You okay? I told you to
slow down.”  I leaned over the wooden banister.

The rapid thump of feet came from below.  

“Christa, ruuuun!” Nicola screamed. 

Oh, heck.

A man shouted, “Grab her!” and Nicola’s ringing pitch died.

I dropped to my knees on the carpet.  Shock pounded
through me in a huge, suffocating wave.  And in a heartbeat, the hope of
beating these men died. 

What on earth went wrong?

Muffled yelps and cries warbled up to me, making me tense
and shake.  Poor Nicola.  I ached to help her, but... I pressed a
hand over my nose and mouth to silence my breath.  I’d be no use if they
captured me.  Hide.

“Where’s your friend with the lovely bullet nipples?” 
I heard a man say from downstairs.

I scrambled on all fours to my bedroom.  Where to
hide?  Wardrobe?  I opened a door and weighed it up.  No. 
I shut it and scanned around.  My ensuite had the tiniest of locks that
would not even keep a Chihuahua out.  I’d bust my legs if I jumped out of
the window.  And the bed...? 

Footsteps pounded up the stairs.

Shit.  Hurry.  I’d messed up coming into this
room.

I pulled one of the two full length drawers out from under
the side of my bed, raced to the foot of it and started to slither head first
into the central gap.  No.  Wait a minute.  The drawer would
have to remain pulled out.  Obvious.  What was I thinking?

I slid out and looked around my room on my knees.  The
dressing table!  Positioned at an angle in the corner of my room opposite
the door, there was a small triangular space behind it.  That would have
to do.  I jumped to my feet and hurried over.  I moved the oval
free-standing mirror, the silver tree-shaped jewellery stand, and oddments
aside, clambered over and dropped into the gap.  Crouching in an
uncomfortable ball in the tight space, I reached a hand up to move my jewellery
tree and the mirror back in place, then snatched the wrought iron candle holder
and gripped it by my chest.  Oh, shit. The jewellery!  I touched the
jangling, swaying necklaces with my finger to try to still them, but my shaking
hand only made it worse and two fell off a hook.  Then the stomping,
coming from the creaky top steps and across the landing, stole my time
away.  I slumped down and tucked my chin into my chest.

Floorboards juddered across the landing.  “I’ll check
the bedrooms,” a man said.

I shrunk, all balled up like a knot, but shaking and...
breathless now.

The man entered the room next door, Nicola’s.  Clangs
and banging came through the wall I was pressing my forehead against.

“Anything?” a deep voice shouted from downstairs.

Someone else thumped their way across the landing. 
“Where’s the kid?”

“Empty in here,” said the man in Nicola’s room.

A breath of relief escaped my lips.  Thank God. 
They didn’t have Sarah.  Please, Sarah, I prayed, please stay out with
your friends.

Seconds later, someone clicked the light on and walked
through my room.  I heard shoes slap the tiled floor in my ensuite, then a
wardrobe door rattled and banged, and a drawer under my bed slid across the
carpet.  Thank God I didn’t...

“Can’t find her.  You?”

Someone walked around my bed, past my dressing table. 
A floorboard creaked at my door, only metres away. 

He’s leaving!
  I geared up to move.  I’d
dart into Nicola’s room and lower myself out of the window onto the wheelie
bins. 

“Search the other rooms.”

Oh, shit. 
He’s still in here.

“She’s up here... somewhere.”  He inhaled a long nasal
breath and deepened his voice.  “I can smell her.”

Oh hell, the lime.

My anxiety heightened with every tap of a foot around my
room.  This was a deadly version of the game hide and seek I did not wish
to play. 

“Not in the kid’s room or the junk room,” someone said from
the landing.  “I’ll check the rest.  You coming to-” He didn’t
finish.

Why?
  I held my breath.

The person in my room made for the door then stopped. 
“What?” 

Anxious seconds passed.  Hushed voices accompanied the
faint but threatening creep of shoes on carpet.  “Behind ya... 
Necklaces,” a man whispered.

I tensed and shook.  The soft whoosh of breath came
closer.  A shadow swept over me.  What little light shone down on me
in the corner got blocked out.  The dressing table rattled. 

My whole body buzzed with fear.  Oh, shit. 

I popped up and swung the candle holder, whacking a guy on
the chest.  

“Ooof,” he cried.  His eyes blazed.  He grabbed my
shoulders with a fierce intensity and dragged me over the desk, scraping my
ankles, banging my elbows.  I screamed, kicked and flailed as he sent me
reeling to the floor.  With a loud clatter, the table tipped. 
Everything flew off and crashed around me. 

“No, please.”  I kicked and jerked, then scrambled
across the carpet on all fours. 

“Grab her.”  The second man clasped me under my arms
from behind.  With a sharp jerk, he hoisted me up and slammed me on my
feet. 

Burning with fear, I raised the candleholder to strike the
guy, but someone behind grappled for my wrists, knocking my weapon out of my
hand.  He bent my arms behind and up my back in a hellish, socket-twisting
grip.  I cried out and my body wilted at the deep pain.

“You’ve pissed someone off real bad with your showboating in
the shower,” he said against my ear from behind, something hard and pointy
pressing into my skull.  “Bet you’re regretting it now, huh?”

My brain swilled.  Horror sparked and flashed like a
tangle of light attacking my vision.  I gulped for air.

The man in front stepped closer, his beer-breath breezed
over my bowed head.  “Yeah.  You sure have.”  He fingered and
sniffed my hair.  “It’s a real shame.  If you showered like
that
every day...”  

Head still hung, I blinked hard to overcome my water-blurry
eyes and flinched away from his repulsive touch.  “Get off me.” 
Scumbag.

He lifted his chunky boots and before I could raise my leg
to kick, he stamped my bare toes.  A crushing pain shot across my feet,
making my eyes water.  I cried out. 

“No one can hear you.  You should know that, out here
with no neighbours.”

He was wrong.  What about Harry?  Oh no, he was
going out tonight.  Bereft of power, my limbs locked by their
bone-crunching squeeze and stomp, I tilted my head up, trying not to show my
fear.

The man was well-built with very short dark wavy hair and an
inch long gash split one of his eyebrows in half.  It was fresh, had
barely scabbed over.  He wore a navy padded jacket over jeans and was so
close we were practically rubbing noses.  That cut...?  And his face?
 Why did...?  Christ, I’d touched it!  “You, you’re the one who
crashed your car in the snow last night, near my house.”

He gritted his teeth and sighed. 

“B-but we helped you.  I cleaned the cut on your
eye.”  I stared at him and got nothing in response.  Oh my God. 
The timing, him being near my house last night...  “Are you the one who
attacked Nicola?”

He looked away.  “No, but...  Anyway, the house
was supposed to be empty.  We didn’t plan on hurting anyone.”

“Well you did.”  I glared at him.  “She didn’t
deserve it.  And now you’re hurting me.”  I sharpened my voice. 
“What do you want?  Money?” 

He shook his head and met my gaze again.  “Look, this
isn’t my call.”  A disgusting swirl of beer-breath blew into my
face.  “I’m afraid you’ve just-”

“Shut up!” The other said.  “He’ll hear you.”

“He can’t.”

“I promise I’ll keep quiet.”  My lips trembled, and I
shuddered at hearing Nicola cry downstairs.  “Please let us go.  I
won’t tell anyone about the website, the attack... any of it.”

His mouth flattened into a hard line.  “It’s nothing to
do with the website.  Not this time.”

I stared into his eyes.  “Then what?  Who...?”

He ran a hand through his hair and nodded toward the
landing.

Was someone downstairs calling the shots?  “So
what?  You’re following orders?  Do you want to go down for murder
because some other guy tells you to?”

“You’ve pushed his sister’s buttons tonight,
showboating.  Dale, he-”

“Shut up!” the other man said.

Scab-man shrugged.  “What’s it gonna matter?”

“Who’s Dale?” I asked.  “Who’s his sister?  She
was watching me in the shower?” 

No one answered.

“Please.  At least tell me why you’re going
to...”  I paused. 
Watching me? 
The camera!  Nicola
hadn’t touched the one in my bedroom.  “D... did y-you forget you’re being
filmed?” 

Scab-man’s gaze touched mine for a second, and his jaw
clenched. 

“How’s it feel to be the star of your own show?” I stuck out
my chin in defiance. 

His eyes shot up to the corner behind me.    

“Smile,” I said, grasping at any idea to make these men slip
up so I could gain my freedom.

“It doesn’t matter.  No one would dare call it
in.  Besides, we’re gonna rip them out.”

“But they’re not out yet.  Not even
one
of your
subscribers has a conscience?” I said in a hard, rusty voice.

With both men now seemingly trapped in thought and steering
sideways to the camera, I had to seize the moment.  With my hands still
held behind my back, I grabbed a chunk of flesh somewhere around his groin and
dug in my fingernails. 

He jerked and bent forward, releasing me. 
“Bitch.” 

A pair of glasses tumbled onto my shoulder and down to the
floor.  I tilted my head up and spat at the guy in front.

The pressure of his boots on my toes eased as he shut his
eyes.

I wrenched myself free and made a run for the door. 
But something, or someone tripped me up.  I slapped belly-down onto the
carpet, aching all over.

Both men grabbed me and flipped me onto my back.  

The guy who’d lost his glasses leaned over my head and pinned
my arms down, grunting like a pig.  “Fuck, I can’t see a thing.”

Scab-man sat his full weight across my thighs, and
winked.  “Nice try.”

I tried to buck him off.  Agony ploughed through my
muscles so much I thought I’d faint.  “Stop!  P-please, get off me,”
I burbled, my eyes filling with tears, my head a tsunami of pressure. 

Scab-man wiped spittle off his cheek.  “Do that again,
and we’ll break your fucking legs.”  His eyes darkened to hard points of
fury, his mouth twisted into a frown. 

The man pinning my arms whistled to signal someone. 

Scab-man grabbed the pair of glasses and hooked them onto
the other man’s face. 

“Cheers,” he said.  “Wife’d kill me if I lost
these.” 

“Wife?” I cried, glaring up at the inverted face. 
“What the... Let me go.”

“We’ve got her,” The spectacled man shouted to whoever was
downstairs.  “What now?”

No reply came for a few seconds, then, “Keep her
there.  I’m bringing the other one up.”

I looked at the guy sitting on my thighs.  Why would he
threaten to break my legs and not threaten to...?  I wasn’t dead
yet.  Perhaps killing me wasn’t their plan, perhaps...

Oh God. 

Yes.  They had plasters wrapped around their fingers to
hide prints, but Nicola had said they wore masks last time.  Not
tonight.  That could only mean one thing.  And whoever intended to
finish me off was on his way up.  “I’ve got a child, a family,” I
pleaded.  “People rely on me.  I’ve done nothing bad to you.” 

His face pinched.  “He just wants to talk.  You’ve
really pissed his sister off.”

“Talk?” I shrieked.  “Is that what he told you? 
And you believe him?”  Tears rolled down my cheeks and into my ears. 
Were these guys really that naive?  “You know what happened to my husband,
right?”