ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(70)

Andrew’s stomach boiled hot with acidic fear and threatened to expel its contents all over the worn carpet. Jordan was dead, which meant that his brother, Dom, would have only one reason to revisit the hospital and only one thing on his mind.

He’s going to go after Bex; pay me back for what I did to his brother. The person on the phone was probably Frankie, egging him on – eager to have a potential witness dealt with. I have to get there first.

Andrew turned and addressed the barmaid. “He’s going after my daughter. Please, call the hospital and tell them that Rebecca Goodman is in danger. Rebecca Goodman, you got that?”

The barmaid just stood there, befuddled.

Andrew shouted at her. “Just do it!” Then he turned and fled, barging through the pub’s main door without stopping to acknowledge the pain that shot through his ribs. The rain had gotten ferocious in the short time he was in the pub and it now hit Andrew’s skin with enough force to sting.

Andrew stopped at the bottom of the pub’s steps and allowed himself a brief second to consider his options. He needed to get to the hospital as quickly as possible, but he was at least three miles away, with no car. There was a bus route nearby but Andrew had no idea how regular it was or even where it went to.

What do I do? What do I do?

A taxi would be the quickest option but he’d still have to wait for it to arrive. He couldn’t take the risk of it turning up late. There was only one solution that seemed viable right now: Andrew would have to race back home and get to his car.

He started to run, dodging over rain-filled divots and cracked paving stones. Breathlessness came quickly, forcing a stitch into his side that merged with the pain of his stab wound, but he had to keep going. Each second he took was a second that his daughter might not have.

He ran as fast as his legs would take him.

He ran until his chest was near-bursting, his wounded side bleeding.

But he kept going; not slowing down for even a single second. He ran like Bex’s life depended on it, because it did.

One street away from his own, Andrew was forced to slow down to a jog, the pain in his ribs growing to a point where it threatened to drop him to the floor unconscious. When he placed a hand against his side, Andrew discovered sticky blood seeping from the shallow knife wound. It felt hot as it trickled down his skin.

But there was no time to wallow in agony. Andrew put aside the pain and drew from reserves he never knew he had; he managed to round the final corner at full speed. His car was right in front of him, exactly where he had left it on the curb beside his house. For some irrational reason he had dreaded it would not be there. Thank God that it was.

Don’t worry, Bex. I’m coming.

Andrew reached the Mercedes and skidded to a halt beside the driver’s side. He fumbled in his pocket for the keys.

“What’s up, motherf*cker?”

Andrew turned around just in time to see a fist coming towards him. It connected with his jaw and sent his eyes rolling back in his head.

When he came to, Andrew found himself in the dark.

***

There was no space for him to move. Each time Andrew tried to straighten out an arm or a leg he hit against the walls of his confinement. His head was spinning and a wicked lump throbbed on the side of his head, making it extremely hard to think. It wasn’t until after several minutes of being curled up in the dark, listening to a nearby mechanical humming, that he realised he was inside a car.

I’m locked in the boot.

Andrew could tell by the sound of the engine that it was his own car. Dom must have grabbed the keys from him after throwing his knockout punch. Now Andrew was a hostage on his way to God knows where. He felt about himself for a solution to his predicament but struggled to find any. Bex still needed him and while he was trapped in the boot Frankie could have been on his way to the hospital.

If he’s not there already.

If Andrew remembered correctly, the only things inside the boot was a jacket that had belonged to Pen and a handheld vacuum – neither would do anything to help him escape. He knew there was a tool kit somewhere in there, too, but it was hidden in a compartment beneath the shelf. There was no way to get to it while lying on top of it. Andrew did the only thing he could think of: he kicked out with both legs as hard as he could.

The plastic mouldings of the car’s luggage compartment bent under the assault, but behind it was the unmovable steel of the vehicle’s chassis. Andrew had nowhere near enough strength to kick his way out. Something else suddenly occurred to him, though: He still had his knife, could feel it digging into his side. He yanked it free of his waistband and unrolled it from the tea towel. He may have had no way to escape the boot, but at least he had a weapon to use when Dom finally opened it. If it was, in fact, Dom that was driving the car.