Fourteen Days(72)

Panic struck Richard when he saw this, and his breathing became erratic through his nostrils. Struggling to move, he wriggled noisily on the floor, trying desperately to get to his feet. But it was no use—his efforts were ineffective.

“Don’t bother,” he heard Peter calmly say.

Richard could feel his mind race and his body almost spasm with terror. He tried to move but was frozen, staring intently at Peter’s chunky, towering frame.

“Stay exactly where you are,” Peter said, standing with the baby in his arms. He lowered the sleeping child into a cot at the side of the sofa, kissing him as he tucked him into a blanket. “So, tell me,” he said, starting to walk toward Richard. “Who are you?”

Richard’s words were muffled by the gag.

Peter groaned. “Look, if I pull that thing out of your mouth, you promise not to scream or try anything funny? I don’t want you waking up the baby.”

Richard nodded obediently.

Kneeling down beside him, Peter untied the gag. Richard let out a loud breath of relief.

“So, I’ll ask you again,” Peter said, still kneeling down. “Who the hell are you?”

Richard had to think fast. “I was just looking for help.”

“Help for what?”

“My car’s broken down, and I couldn’t get a signal on my phone.” Instantly he regretted mentioning that he had a phone because he could still feel its weight in his pocket. “So I took a walk to look for a public phone.”

“Where’s your car?”

“It’s just outside your gate—by the bushes.”

Peter didn’t reply, he just glared deep into Richard’s eyes, clearly trying to see if he was lying.

“It’s just outside,” Richard repeated, desperation and panic in his voice. “You can check if you want.”

Peter paused for a moment. “You know what: I might have believed you if I hadn’t caught you sneaking around the house—because most people ring the bloody doorbell when they want someone’s help.” His calm tone had changed dramatically, causing Richard to tighten up and sidle back a little.

“Please, I was just a bit lost,” he explained, his voice quivering. “And I was admiring your land.”

All that was going through Richard’s mind as he watched Peter was getting home to his wife, and how he had made a stupid mistake coming here in the first place. Why couldn’t he have listened to the voice of reason in his head? Why couldn’t he have just gone to the police like an ordinary person?

“I tell you what I’m gonna do for you,” Peter calmly said, as he got up heavily from the floor. Richard anxiously followed his every movement. “I’m going to give you a chance,” he said, walking over to the sofa, “to tell me the truth about why you’re here.” Reaching down, he grasped something out of Richard’s view. “And if you don’t—” Richard gasped loudly in horror when he saw Peter turn and point a shotgun directly at him. “—I’m gonna blow your f*cking head off.”

Almost hyperventilating, Richard’s muscles tensed, nearly bursting. “Please. I’m telling you the truth,” he pleaded, his eyes filling with tears. “I swear to God. I wouldn’t lie. Please—put the gun away. I’ve got a family. Please!”

“Then why were you spying on me? And don’t give me any more of your bullshit this time! I’m not stupid!”

“I wasn’t spying. I swear it. I just needed some help.”

Richard couldn’t stop his body from shuddering as he thought again about Nicky, sitting at home, waiting for him to return, with no clue where he was. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the last place on earth she would ever think to look for him was in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. He was truly all alone, with no help coming, and home seemed like a million miles away.

Peter clicked the gun’s safety catch. “You’ve got three seconds…”

“Please—it’s the truth!”

“One…”

Richard fought hard with his tied hands and ankles, trying desperately to loosen them. “Please. For God’s sake. Just put—”

“Two…” He rested the butt of the shotgun against his collarbone and closed one eye as if to take aim.

Almost sick with panic, Richard decided that it was time for another lie, another story. He really had nothing left to lose. One last stab at convincing Peter why he was there. The truth just wouldn’t cut it—and time was fast running out. “All right, I’ll tell you the truth!”