The Next Girl(Detective Gina Harte #1)(74)

‘Ten seconds.’

She turned and ran back to the blanket, jumping onto it as she reached its edge. ‘I want to go back. Take me back now,’ she yelled as tears flooded her face.

The blanket soared immediately into the clouds. Blue became grey, warm became cold and safe became stormy. As she lay in the middle of the blanket, it dipped and rose in sharp bursts, threatening to throw her off.



* * *



‘You left him and passed your test. The test had no reward. There is no prize, no points, no certificate, just a sense of satisfaction that you chose me,’ Jeff said.

‘I didn’t choose. I had no choice,’ she yelled through the blanket covering her face. She struggled to move, as he’d rolled her tightly up in it.

With every bump down the stairs, the pain in her stomach and groin intensified. He was moving her, but to where? Was this the end? Was he going to release her, or release her to death?

‘Everyone has choices and everything comes to an end. You are at your end. They’re coming for me and I can’t let you go.’ All she could see was darkness. She inhaled the grey material that was threatening to suffocate her. ‘You’re not going to a better place, my little demon. You’re going where you deserve to go.’

‘Jeff? My Jeffrey? Did you get the photos?’ the old woman shouted as the main door burst open, releasing a gust of cold air through the barn. Deborah remained still, the musty blanket covering her head as she listened to the woman shuffling closer to her.

‘Go back, Mother.’

‘I need bread.’

‘You don’t need bread. You have two loaves.’

‘Help!’ Deborah called through the blanket’s fibres, hoping that her weak voice could be heard.

‘Is that my blanket?’ the old woman asked.

‘Shut up, Mother. I said leave me alone.’ He turned the frail woman around and pushed her towards the door.

‘Please help me,’ Deborah called, feeling suddenly light-headed. The pain in her groin burned through her body. Sweat began to pour from her brow as she fidgeted in the blanket, trying to find a way out. ‘Let me go, please!’ She felt a boot dig into her stomach. She coughed until she almost vomited.

‘I heard someone. Who’s that?’ the old woman asked. ‘Who’s in my blanket?’

‘I’ve had it with you, Mother. I can’t do this anymore,’ Jeff said.

The old woman began screaming, her voice hoarse and weak. She let out a final yelp as he dragged her away, out of the main door, towards the house. The voices got quieter until she could no longer hear them. She pushed her arm out of the top of the blanket that was rolled around her body and began to painfully wriggle out. There was no sound of the chain that had kept her prisoner for so many years. As she tried to stand, she stumbled forward, hitting her shoulder on the white van, the van that had brought her to her doom. She slumped over the bonnet, exhausted.

The dog began barking in the distance. She had to move quickly. He was coming back. She grabbed hold of one of the window wipers and dragged her weary body to a standing position. As she straightened her body, she felt a trickling down her legs. She looked down and noticed that drips of blood were following her every move. As the barn spun, she closed her eyes, trying to maintain her balance. She started to heave and her stomach contracted as nausea swept over her.

She swayed as she tried to focus. The world was like a stormy ship and she was battling a storm to stay upright. She stared down at the blanket.

‘I’m going home,’ she said, as she placed one foot in front of the other. She reached the door and pushed it open. Stepping out into what looked like a grey morning, she breathed in the damp air. Air had never smelled so clean after the staleness of urine, excrement, sweat and blood that had filled her life over the past few years. How many years, she couldn’t remember. With each step, pain burned from her groin, stabbing into her lower stomach and kidneys. She flinched as her head pounded to a sickening beat.

The dog barked again. She had to go. She wanted to be with her children, be there on Christmas day and watch them opening their presents. She staggered across the yard, away from the house. Maybe she could hide in the woodland out the back, stagger through the trees and wave for a motorist to stop.

Her cold feet soon became numb to the sharp stones and grit that dug in every time she took a step. She laughed as she staggered forward. She was going home – wherever home was. She was going to her mum and she was going to see her children. She didn’t know if her captor had told her the truth about Luke’s new woman, but it didn’t matter. She just wanted to see him again.

‘I’m going home,’ she repeated with every step.

‘You’re not going anywhere.’ She turned around and saw a needle full of clear fluid in his hand. He stabbed it into her arm and within minutes she was on the floor, seeing double.





Fifty-Two





Gina stared at her computer screen. Photos of Nicoleta Iliescu’s waxy face and body filled her screen. One eye was missing, but the freezing water had mostly preserved her features. The report stated that she had drowned, and the diatoms present confirmed that. Gina flinched and grabbed her coat.

‘O’Connor. What have we got? And make it brief,’ Gina said as she entered the incident room, where O’Connor, Wyre and Jacob were hard at work.