Souls At Zero (A Dark Psychological Thriller) (19 page)

These will do.

He put the secateurs on the floor and hoked through the canvas bag again, taking out a roll of bandages and a bottle of iodine.

Then he picked up the secateurs and left the room, going into the narrow hallway before turning and heading up the creaking stairs towards the attic room.

Lying on her side on the mattress in the dark attic room, Kaitlin McGuire shivered, despite the blankets she had over her. The room was cold and draughty, but she also knew she felt the cold more because she had barely eaten anything in over twelve hours. The water and the chocolate bars provided by her kidnapper still lay on the floor, but she hadn't touched them. She was too afraid they were poisoned, even though she knew she was probably being paranoid. If her kidnapper wanted her dead, he would have killed her already. Or at least, that's what she thought. Since waking up in the attic room, Kaitlin had been thinking about why she had been kidnapped in the first place, and more pressingly, what her kidnapper was going to do to her eventually. Would he let her go when he got what he wanted, whatever that was? She really hoped so. For the thought of never seeing her mother again was unbearable. Or Harry, for that matter.

Even though she had only known Harry properly for about six months, he was still her father. More than that, she really liked him. Loved him even. He was kind and generous with her, despite the fact that her mother obviously still had a problem with him. But that was their grown up stuff. Nothing to do with her. All that mattered to Kaitlin was that she finally had a father figure in her life, after years of hearing all her friends talk about how great
their
dads were, and everything
their
dads did for them. That kind of talk used to make her feel so sad, like there was something wrong with her because she didn't have a father. Or worse, that she had a father, but for some reason he would rather be off fighting as a soldier somewhere rather than be with her.

It would have been so easy for her to be resentful and spiteful towards Harry when he eventually showed up saying he wanted to be a part of her life. A lot of Kaitlin's friends said she was stupid just letting Harry walk into her life like that. If it was them, they would punish him and make him buy her stuff just to make up for his long absence. But Kaitlin wasn't like that. She didn't enjoy being angry or spiteful towards other people. It just made her feel bad.

And anyway, Harry was a good guy. She knew that from the moment she met him. Sure he was big and intimidating, especially being a soldier and all, but he was also smart and humorous, and sometimes even fun, though he would deny the fun part. He was also the calmest person she had ever met. Nothing ever seemed to rile him up, unlike with her mum, who got riled up by things all the time. Kaitlin wasn't stupid. She knew her mum resented Harry for being back, even though she wanted Kaitlin to know her father. Kaitlin thought her mum was sometimes jealous of the easy relationship Kaitlin had developed with Harry. Kaitlin understood. Her mum had raised her single-handedly, bar the few years when she was married to Peter, who also worked at the university. Kaitlin thought Peter was okay, but she never saw him as her father. Just a nice man her mother was with. She was secretly relieved when they eventually split up. It never seemed right, her mother marrying someone else. Kaitlin fantasised sometimes about Harry and her mum getting back together and the three of them being a family at last. But she knew that would never happen. Her mum didn't love Harry anymore. At least, that's what she told Kaitlin.

Kaitlin loved him however. Even though she had figured out that her being kidnapped was most likely something to do with Harry. The kidnapper took her to punish Harry for some reason, or to make Harry do bad things. Whatever the case, Kaitlin chose to believe that it wasn't Harry's fault, her being kidnapped. Harry would never do anything that would put her at risk. Or so she kept telling herself.

Harry would save her.

She kept repeating that to herself, even as she heard the creaking of the stairs below her. She tensed up under the blankets. The kidnapper was coming to check on her again, as he had been doing every couple of hours. He would come and poke his head through the trapdoor, shining a light into the room when it got dark. He would stare at her a moment, then he would leave.

When she heard the trapdoor being unlocked, Kaitlin curled into a tighter ball and closed her eyes.

He will be gone soon. Don't open your eyes until he's gone.

She jumped when the trapdoor slammed back to the floor.

That never happened. He always held the door open just a bit. Never opened it all the way. Her eyes flew open.

The ladder leading into the attic creaked loudly under the kidnapper's weight.

He's coming in!

Kaitlin sat up like a frightened rabbit and saw the tall figure of the kidnapper standing over by the trapdoor, motionless. The room was dark, but there was enough light from the moon outside the window to allow her to see that he had something shiny in his hand, something that caught the moonlight and glimmered like precious metal.

The kidnapper walked towards her.

Kaitlin involuntarily moved back to the end of the mattress and hugged her long legs. Her heart rate increased at the sight of the metal blades he had in his hand. What were they?

"Please don't hurt me," she pleaded. "You don't have to hurt me. I'll do whatever you want." She looked up to the kidnappers face, which was a mask of shadow. It was the first time she had seen him up close, but she didn't recognise him from anywhere. There was no emotion in his face at all, nothing in it to suggest to her that she could bargain or plead with him. He was going to do whatever he thought he had to, and that was that. He was also odourless. No smell of sweat or aftershave. Nothing. It was like a ghost had come into the room with her. Or a demon.

The kidnapper knelt down and for the first time she noticed the syringe in his other hand. When he spoke, he did so in a low, quiet voice that was almost a whisper, in an accent she thought was Irish, but not Northern Irish. Southern Irish maybe, mixed with something else she couldn't pinpoint. He held up the syringe. "This will stop you from feeling any pain. Do you want it?"

"What are you going to do?" Kaitlin asked, feeling like she should be backing away from him. But where was she going to go?

"I'm going to cut your little finger off." His voice was as dead as his dark eyes. Flat. Emotionless.

Kaitlin started crying. "Why?"

"Your father didn't do as I asked. Now you have to pay the price."

"No…"

"Pain. No pain. Which is it?"

Kaitlin looked at the sharp cutters in his hand, then at the syringe he was holding up. Her stomach turned, and she felt she was going to be sick. "No pain," she whimpered through her tears.

The kidnapper leaned forward just as Kaitlin shut her eyes. A second later she felt the sharp prick of the needle going into her neck.

Not long after, unconsciousness took her.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Kaitlin's absence was conspicuous to the point of oppressiveness. The silence in the house that Gemma McGuire was so used to, the quiet calm that she normally welcomed when Kaitlin was in bed, now felt horrible to her, like the walls themselves were closing in. She had never felt so lonely and empty in her life.

At somewhere after 4:00 p.m. she was lying on the sofa in the living room, her head busting from the vodka she had drank several hours before. Earlier she had phoned her mother to let her know what was going on. Not that she wanted to, but she had to tell someone. Her parents had a right to know that their granddaughter had been kidnapped.

It made Gemma sick to her stomach every time she thought or said that word: kidnapped. It was like a knife to the gut. Gemma's parents said they would drive to Belfast as soon as possible, but Gemma told them no. She didn't want them driving all the way from Fermanagh just to hang around the house and make her feel worse than she already felt. As unbearable as being on her own was, Gemma knew she couldn't handle her parents being in the house as well. Her mother especially was a born panickier, hard on the nerves. Gemma's nerves were already frayed to breaking point. She didn't need her mother fraying them further. She told her parents that Harry was handling the situation. Her parents were aghast that she hadn't involved the police, until she told them it was too dangerous getting the police involved. Some arguing ensued about Harry's ability to get Kaitlin back, soldier or not. This was all his fault, they said. They never liked him anyway. What was she thinking allowing him back into her life again? Eventually, when she couldn't listen to it anymore, she told them she would keep them informed, and hung up. Her mother phoned twice since, and both times, Gemma told her the same thing: Kaitlin wasn't back yet. What else was she supposed to say?

At around 4:45 a.m. Gemma heard a noise at the front door, like the letter box opening and closing. She sat up on the sofa and listened for a moment, her heart thumping in her chest. She got off the sofa and walked fearfully into the hallway. She stopped when she saw a white envelope lying on the floor by the door. Given the time, she knew it couldn't have been the postman who delivered the envelope. She stared at the white envelope for a long time before finally willing herself to go over to it. When she got close enough, she noticed a red stain at the bottom of the envelope. There was also something written on it. Her hand went to her mouth as she stared at the ominous package on the floor. Although she couldn't bring herself to admit it, she knew the red stain was blood. There was no mistaking it.

"Oh God…" She bent down to pick the envelope up, gingerly grabbing it with the tips of her fingers first, like it would bite her if she wasn't careful. Written on the envelope in large letters were the words: CALL ME HARRY.

It took all of Gemma's willpower to force herself to open the envelope to see what was inside. When she finally got the envelope open, she wished she hadn't. Upon seeing what was inside, a look of horror came over face and she immediately dropped the envelope to the floor before starting to scream.

About twenty minutes later, Gemma was standing in the kitchen drinking vodka to try and calm her nerves. The bloody envelope was in the sink, after having lain on the hallway floor up until five minutes ago, Gemma not having the nerve to pick it up again after the first time. Her face was wet with tears, and she tensed up to try and stop herself from shaking, but her whole body shook like she was standing inside a freezer. Every time she dared look at the envelope, her stomach hurled. There was already a puddle of vomit on the hallway floor from when she had first discovered what was inside the envelope.

Then there was a knock on the front door. The noise startled Gemma so much she dropped her glass and it smashed on the floor, splashing vodka over her bare feet. She froze to the spot, terrified of who might be standing outside the door.

The door was knocked again, louder this time.

Without thinking, Gemma grabbed a knife from the block on the worktop and walked into the living room, where she waited, the knife held out in front of her with both hands.

Another loud knock. She jumped again, her eyes widening in fear.

Then she heard a voice from outside. "Gemma, its Harry. Open the door."

The huge amount of tension in her body dropped away all at once and she almost collapsed to the floor. "Jesus," she breathed, one hand going to her chest as if she was having a heart attack.

She finally walked out of the living room and into the hallway, looking through the spy hole in the front door before opening it. The knife was still in her hand as she stood staring at Harry.

"Gemma," he said, frowning with concern. "What's the knife for?"

"Fuck you," she said, before turning her back and walking away from him, moving back into the kitchen again. She heard the front door close and he appeared in the kitchen a moment later. He hovered in the doorway, and she noticed the tear in his jacket, at the shoulder. Then she saw the blood dripping down his hand and splashing in droplets to the white kitchen tiles. The look of contempt on her face didn't change, despite the fact that she knew he was injured in some way.

"Are you alright, Gemma?"

She shook her head at him. "You said you would handle this," she snarled. "You said you would get Kaitlin back."

"Gemma, I'm—"

"I don't want to hear it!" She pointed to the sink with the knife. "Look in there. Look!"

Harry moved over to the sink, his eyes still on her. Then he looked into the sink at the bloody white envelope. He stared, but said nothing.

"Look inside it! Look in the fucking envelope and tell me your handling things, Harry! Look!"

He looked sick as he opened the envelope with one hand and looked inside. "Oh Christ…"

She screamed at him. "You did this!" The knife in her hand was pointed at him. "This is all your fault! Kaitlin is hurt because of you, Harry you fucking bastard."

"Gemma, please," he said, putting his hands up as he slowly came towards her. "Put the knife down."