My Sister's Bones(89)

She grabs my hand.

‘No,’ she gasps. ‘Paul . . .’

‘We’ll call him from the hospital,’ I say. ‘Let’s just concentrate on your breathing. It’s all going to be fine.’

‘No,’ she cries, shaking my arm. ‘Paul did this.’

‘What?’

‘Paul . . .’ she says, her voice hoarse and shallow. ‘He did this . . . kept Hannah . . . raped her when she was just –’

She lets go of my arm and clutches her chest as though trying to squeeze the words out.

‘The boy,’ she gasps. ‘Paul . . . his dad.’

Her breath gives out and she slumps back.

‘Sally, come on, we can do this,’ I say, trying not to let the shock that is permeating my bones show in my face. ‘Come on, in and out, in and out.’

I turn round and look at Hannah. She is sitting on the edge of the mattress now, the boy in her arms. She looks terrified.

‘Is it true?’ I say. ‘What your mum says, is it true? In and out, Sally. Good girl.’

Hannah nods and it feels like my head is on fire.

‘Where is he, Hannah?’ I say, turning my head so Sally can’t hear me. ‘Where’s Paul?’

‘I don’t know,’ she says. ‘He told me not to try to escape . . . If he comes back . . .’

‘We need the police,’ I say. ‘You look after your mum. I’ll go and call them.’

Thump.

The boy whimpers and Hannah leaps to her feet. There are footsteps overhead.

‘It’s him,’ Hannah whispers, her face ashen with fear.





45


‘You’re still alive then,’ he snarls. ‘Christ, you must be stronger than you look.’

I watch from my hiding place underneath the mattress as Paul steps into the room and walks towards Sally. He’s holding a sheet of plastic, and is wearing rubber gloves.

Hannah is sitting on the other mattress with the boy. She holds him to her chest but her eyes are on the man bearing down on her mother.

I note the position of the wooden chair lying on the floor a yard or so away.

‘Well, Sally,’ he says, crouching to his knees. ‘I’ve found a lovely spot for you. I think you’ll like it. Just a short car ride away.’

Sally whimpers and it takes every ounce of restraint to stop myself from going to her but I have to do this right or we’re all dead.

‘It’s a site you know well,’ he continues, kneeling next to her, stroking her hair. ‘The perfect resting place. Somewhere no one will disturb you. I’ve made sure of that. It will be nice and quiet, Sally. After all the chaos, you’ll finally have what you wanted. A bit of peace.’

Sally’s breathing grows shallow as he starts to heave her on to the plastic sheet. I need to act fast. I slither out from under the mattress and crawl on my stomach along the floor behind him. I am almost at the chair when something clatters. My pen. It’s fallen out of my coat pocket. Shit.

‘What was that?’ he says.

He jumps to his feet and turns round. There is nowhere for me to hide. His eyes widen.

‘What the f*ck?’ he cries.

He puts his hand to his chest and I take advantage of his shock by grabbing the chair, but before I can lift it his foot is on my hand, pressing down.

‘No you don’t,’ he says, glaring at me.

‘Kate, please,’ whispers Sally. ‘Just leave it. Don’t fight him.’

But I have to. I’ll fight this man with every bit of strength I have left. I yank my hand away and get to my feet, kicking the chair away. I don’t need it. He doesn’t seem to have a weapon. He must have thought he didn’t need one any more.

‘You don’t scare me,’ I say as I stare into his eyes. ‘Because I’m not a little girl. And that’s your thing, isn’t it? Little girls?’

Sally lets out a sob and I am aching to go to her, to reassure her that we’re going to get out of here, that everything will be fine.

‘Get out of my way, you mad bitch,’ he growls, grabbing my hair and throwing me on to the floor. ‘You’re supposed to be dead.’

I scramble to my feet and as he comes at me again I try to kick him in the groin. But I miss and he grabs me and throws me down hard.

‘I’ll say this for you, Kate,’ he says, kneeling on my chest and putting his hands round my neck. ‘You’re a hard one to get rid of. Those bloody pills weren’t strong enough.’

‘Pills?’ I whisper as his hands tighten round my throat.

‘Yeah, you like pills, don’t you?’ he says. ‘All those ones I found in your bag. Proper little druggie, aren’t you? Your body must be used to them, that’s all I can say.’

‘What do you mean?’ I croak out as I grab at his hands with my fingers.

‘Remember that time in the pub,’ he says, pressing his face against mine, ‘when you went crazy out on the street? Then the cosy night in we had with the bottle of red wine, that nice flask of tea on the beach? I must say, for a hotshot journalist you’re a bit stupid when it comes to leaving your drinks lying around.’

‘You drugged me?’ I gasp as I frantically try to prise his hands from my neck.