Darkness Falls (Kate Marshall, #3)(21)

“No. Now,” he said, tilting his head toward a leather square between the front seats. “Open it.”

Hayden opened the lid, and nestled inside was a small box fridge containing miniature bottles of Mo?t and Coca-Cola.

“You’ve got a bar in your car—that’s a bit naughty,” said Hayden.

“I don’t like my friends to go thirsty.”

For the first time, Hayden felt a pang of guilt. Tom seemed like a nice guy. He pushed the thought away. He picked up one of the small Mo?t bottles. The foil had been removed, and he untwisted the metal cage from the cork, teasing it out with a small pop.

“There’s straws in the bottom of the fridge,” added Tom. They reached a junction that sloped down to the empty motorway.

Hayden took out one of the paper straws, put it in the bottle. Tom leaned over with one eye on the road. “Give us a sip.” Hayden held out the bottle and watched as Tom put his lips to the straw and swallowed. “Lovely.”

Hayden took a sip from the straw. It was cold and deliciously tart. The pang of guilt came back to him again. What if this Tom could be someone good in his life? A boyfriend who’d love him and look after him? For the next five minutes, they chatted and laughed. The only other vehicle they passed was a small white van tootling along in the slow lane.

Hayden finished the bottle quickly, and as he put it in the cup holder, a wave of lethargy came over him, and he started to feel dizzy. The lights of the town on the horizon were starting to streak and flare when he moved his head. His tongue felt thick in his mouth.

“How are you enjoying that champagne? Want another?” asked Tom, looking over at him. An alarm was going off in the back of Hayden’s mind, but everything felt far away. He shifted in his seat, but his legs were heavy.

“Was that champagne I drank?” he slurred. He looked down, and a ribbon of drool was hanging off his bottom lip.

“Champagne. With a little added extra,” said Tom with a laugh. Hayden put his head back against the leather headrest, but it felt like his skull was melting into the soft leather. He pulled his head away. The lights outside were now trailing long lines in his vision. “Did you know, Hayden, that you can push a syringe through a champagne cork down into the bottle?” Tom looked different. In the bar he’d seemed like a big, bashful teddy bear, but now his brown eyes were hard, and he had a hungry stare. “The cork is fairly soft, but you really have to fight against the pressure of the carbon dioxide in the bottle when you get the needle in. You can feel it trying to force the plunger part of the syringe back out . . . The cork reseals itself; it really is a marvel.” He laughed. It echoed and reverberated around the inside of the car. There were no streetlights, thought Hayden. Why were they on the motorway? They’d left town, but Tom had said he lived in town.

Hayden’s head was now too heavy to hold up. It slid to one side, and he felt his cheek against the cold of the window, and he had that melting feeling again, like it was going through the glass. Tom reached over and gently ruffled Hayden’s hair. Then he grabbed a handful and pulled him upright, pushing his head back against the headrest. “Sit up straight.”

Tom checked the mirror, signaled, and took an exit off the motorway. The sign was a blur of letters. Once they were off the brightly lit motorway, the dark country road seemed to swallow the car, and Hayden saw the edges of fields and trees lit up in the beam of the headlights. He could hear a far-off voice in the back of his head, shouting at him, Open the door; jump out of the car! But he couldn’t move.

Tom pulled off the country road and parked in a lay-by. He switched off the headlights, plunging the inside of the car into darkness. There was just the dim glow on the horizon from the motorway. He unclipped his seat belt and took a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and pulled them on. He leaned over Hayden, searching the pockets of his jeans, taking out his mobile phone. The screen saver activated, lighting up the inside of the car. Tom put the phone on the lid of the leather icebox. He found the small plastic wallet where Hayden kept his bank cash card and a ten-pound note, and then he found the little plastic bag of white powder.

Hayden opened his mouth to explain, but his tongue was too thick, and just a groan came out.

“You evil little bastard. The rumors I’d heard about you were true,” said Tom, holding up the bag of powder. The phone screen saver went dark. Hayden heard a crackling sound, and his eyes adjusted to the dim glow coming off the motorway. Tom opened the seal on the bag, and pinching Hayden’s cheeks to open his mouth, he tipped out the contents onto his tongue. Hayden tasted how bitter it was as Tom closed his mouth.

“Swallow,” he said. “Swallow it!” Hayden felt Tom’s hand on his throat, squeezing, and he swallowed involuntarily, wincing at the bitterness.

Tom leaned over the controls on the driver’s side, and Hayden felt his chair start to recline and tip back. The view of the glowing horizon disappeared, and he was lying horizontally. There was another whir as Tom used the controls to recline the driver’s seat. Tom slid back onto the back seat behind Hayden. He hooked his hands under Hayden’s limp body and dragged him into the back of the car. The back seat seemed huge, and then Hayden worked out why. Tom had reclined the back seats so he could pull him into the boot of the car.

Tom rolled Hayden onto his left side, and he felt pressure on his wrists as they were fastened behind his back with tape. Tom did the same with his ankles, pulling up the bottom of his jeans. The tape felt cold on his skin.