The Forgotten Cottage (20 page)

She leant forward and with both of her hands shoved his chest as hard as she could. Marcus felt his chest freeze where her hands touched his skin and his whole body go backwards. He began to topple, head over heels, down the steep stairs until he hit the bottom and his neck snapped.

Betsy smiled to herself then nodded her approval as she disappeared, leaving his body to be found by one of his friends, who had no doubt helped to kill her. She left the Bible open as a warning to whoever had the unfortunate job of finding him. Let them know she had meant every word spoken before they’d killed her and that she would not rest until they were all as dead as she was.

Chapter Fifteen

Will opened his eyes and looked around the dark room. He didn’t have a clue where he was and for a few seconds he wondered if he was going to find a naked Amelia lying next to him. He felt his stomach lurch with àdéjà vu from the last time he’d felt like this, waking up next to a nearly naked Laura and almost ruining his whole life, but then he tried to get up and realised that he couldn’t move his arms or legs freely; they were restricted.

His eyes adjusting to the dark, he could make out a small room which smelt of damp. He was in a cellar and that was when he really lost it. He tried to pull his arms and legs as much as he could. The last time he’d woken up in a cellar, a serial killer had been trying to kill Annie in front of his very eyes. What if he was still there and he’d dreamt the last two years of his life whilst he’d been unconscious? Struggling to breathe, he looked around to see if he could make out Annie’s shape in the darkness. He looked left and right but all he could make out was a chair in the corner and some boxes.

He racked his brain: where the fuck was he? He pulled his arms some more but the rope bit into his skin and then it all came back to him. He remembered leaving Annie at the hospital last night to help Amelia with her car. He’d bent down to have a look at the engine and that was the last thing he knew about. He felt some weird relief that Henry Smith wasn’t going to walk in carrying the old long-bladed knife he favoured to cut his victims’ throats with. Annie had managed to save them both from him but only just; if Henry had had his way they would both be dead in the cellar of the desolate Abbeywood mansion. Along with Jenna White and God knows who else’s remains. But why the hell had Amelia decided to knock him out and bring him here? It didn’t make any sense.

His throat was parched and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a drink; he began to cough. A hole in the ceiling appeared as a trapdoor was flung open and light flooded the small space. He scrunched his eyes up; they had just been getting used to the gloom. A shadowy figure appeared at the top. Whoever it was began to come down the stairs, then stopped at the bottom, pulling a chain and lighting up the single bulb that was hanging from a cord in the ceiling just above Will’s head. The glare was harsh against his sensitive eyes but he blinked a couple of times and they began to adjust. There was a man standing in front of him who he’d never seen before in his life. He stepped forward.

‘I’m really sorry about this, mate, I don’t think you’ll be here long. As soon as she gets what she wants we’ll be off and leave you to it. Do you want a drink, something to eat?’

Will had heard it all now. He didn’t understand exactly what the man, who was in his early twenties with collar-length brown hair and a pair of sunglasses on his head, was saying.

‘I’d like a drink of water, please.’ Will didn’t want to be rude and piss him off.

‘Yeah, no problem, mate. I’ll get you a bottle and then you can help yourself. Are you hungry? It’s just she’s not in at the minute so I can sort you out a bite to eat before she comes back and sees her arse. Right moody cow she’s been lately.’

Will nodded, finding it hard to believe. Had he been kidnapped by Amelia and her pissed off boyfriend?

The lad disappeared upstairs but came down minutes later with a supermarket sandwich and a bottle of water with a sports cap. He unwrapped the sandwich and walked towards Will, handing him one.

‘Can you manage it yourself?’

Will took the sandwich; he could just reach his mouth with his hand so he could take a bite. He nodded, not realising how hungry he was until he’d smelt the ham and pickle just before he bit into it. He ate it in two bites and was passed the second half. When he’d eaten that he took a long gulp of the water.

‘Thank you; can you tell me why I’m here?’

The man nodded. ‘Yeah, I really am sorry about this; she reckons she’s your half-sister and is entitled to some of the money your old man has tucked away in the bank. I told her it was a stupid idea but she doesn’t listen when she gets like that; it’s easier to go along with her, only I didn’t realise she was actually going to.’

He paused and Will nodded in encouragement.

‘Well, I didn’t realise she was going to go through with it. I mean, kidnapping is a serious offence. So is your old man worth a lot of money then or is she getting her knickers in a twist over nothing?’

Will thought that, despite the fact that this bloke was holding him hostage, he was actually all right, although he was comparing him to Henry Smith.

‘To be honest, it’s not something I’ve ever really thought about. I work and make my own money. I don’t rely on my dad to support me; I never have. I suppose he must have a fair bit because he has a nice house and a boat. Look, what did you mean when you said that she thinks she’s my half-sister? Who are we talking about—Amelia?’

A gust of wind made the front door slam shut.

‘Shit…she’s here; sorry, I’ll tell you next time.’

He turned and began to walk back up the steps as another figure blocked out the light then stepped aside to let him out. The trapdoor slammed shut and Will heard a bolt being slid across it. A woman’s voice began to shout and he heard the man who had just been down there telling her to stop freaking out. There was a lot of stomping around and Will began to look around and see if there was any way he could make his escape.

***

It was forty-five minutes before Nurse Reed discovered that her colleague Megan was no longer on the ward. She’d come back up after having a much longer coffee break than she should have because she’d gone across to the other side of the hospital to try and find out exactly who the special visitor was. She’d talked to one of the nurses on that ward and had been surprised to see it wasn’t some crackpot politician but a member of the Royal Family. When she’d finally looked at her watch and realised how long she’d been she had scurried back, ready to grovel to Megan and let her have just as long a break as she’d had.

When she got there and couldn’t find Megan anywhere she assumed she was in the toilet, but after fifteen minutes she began to feel uneasy. That was when she began checking on the prisoners in their rooms to make sure everything was okay. She left Henry Smith’s room until last; there was something about the man which made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end and her skin crawl. Megan seemed to have an unhealthy fascination with him and a couple of times she’d thought about mentioning it to the ward manager but hadn’t. Megan had talked about Henry’s crimes a lot, yet she never seemed to comment on the other prisoners’ backgrounds and some of theirs were much worse than Smith’s, if there was such a thing, but there was a notorious child-killer on the ward who some people found morbidly fascinating.

She marched to Henry’s room and peered through the small window. There was no sign of Henry but he could be in the bathroom. She would check back in five minutes but that still didn’t explain where Megan was. No one was allowed to leave the ward unattended; it was instant dismissal. All the other prisoners were either zoned out in their beds or chairs. She went and checked the toilets, television room, laundry room and every other room, nook and cranny she could think of. She sat down on the chair behind the nurse’s station and took out her phone; she didn’t even have Megan’s number.

By this time she was feeling as if she wanted to throw up the piece of coffee and walnut cake along with the large latte she’d consumed down in the staff canteen. She didn’t know what to do, not wanting to get either of them into trouble, but if Megan didn’t come back soon she would have no choice but to alert staff. She stood up and went back to check on Smith. His room was still empty and this time she felt her lungs close up, making it hard to breathe. She lifted the keys from her pocket and, with hands that were shaking, she inserted one into the lock and opened the door. There was no noise coming from the bathroom, no running water or the sound of the toilet flushing. She walked towards it and stood outside the door.

‘Henry, are you in there?’

Silence greeted her and she reached out and knocked on the door. Images of a very dead Megan lying on the bathroom floor with a blood-soaked Henry standing above her made her feel sick to the core. She reached out and pushed the door open. The bathroom was empty. She felt relieved that there was no dead Megan but then the realisation that there was no Henry either hit her hard and she felt her knees tremble. She spun around in case he was standing behind her but the room was still empty. It was then that she turned and ran to the nurses’ station to hit the panic button. She slammed her fist down onto it hard but there was no noise. She did it again and again. Picking up the phone, she rang Security.

‘Code Red Ward Nine.’

***

They had swapped cars without incident and Megan had taken all the back roads, avoiding motorways until they were almost at the Cumbrian border. Henry had offered to drive but Megan declined.

‘I didn’t put you on the insurance, Henry, for obvious reasons. If we were to get stopped it would look very suspicious and the police would end up seizing the car and if they did a computer check on you it would be game over. It happened to my ex-boyfriend; they took his car off him and left him on the side of the road miles from anywhere. We’ll take a break in a minute, if you don’t mind, though. I just need something to eat and a cold drink; I was too nervous to eat breakfast this morning. How long is it from here to your caravan?’

‘About an hour, but there’s no rush—we’ve got all day. You’ve surpassed yourself, Megan; take a break.’

She pulled over at the next lay-by and reached into the back of the car, rooting around in one of the carrier bags. She pulled out a sandwich and offered it to Henry, who declined; he didn’t tell her but his stomach was churning with nerves. It had all gone to plan and things didn’t normally go so smoothly; he wouldn’t be able to settle until they were safely inside the caravan on the far end of Walney, safe from prying eyes. He put his head back and closed his eyes, waiting for his partner in crime to finish chewing her egg mayo roll which, incidentally, was stinking the car out. Henry could let it go this time because she had done so well but he wouldn’t put up with her eating anything that reminded him of his mother’s Sunday teas that he’d suffered all his life until the day he had killed her; he would be telling her egg sandwiches were a definite no. Eventually, Megan wiped her hands on her trousers and started the engine again; they were soon on their way.

After another twenty minutes Henry began to direct Megan. Although Barrow-in-Furness wasn’t exactly hard to find and it was miles from the motorway, it was his home and where Henry belonged. It was where he had found the crumbling mansion in the woods and the secret room in the cellar that had once belonged to a much more famous killer than Henry, but it had been his secret and the only other person who had known about it was Police Officer Annie Graham. From what he had gathered, she hadn’t told anyone about that room either, which had puzzled him because if she had gone public with the knowledge that she knew who ‘Jack the Ripper’s true identity was and could prove it she would have become richer than most people dream of, but she hadn’t breathed a word about it. He would ask her why when he finally had her to himself. That room had been where he’d killed his first victim and where he’d tried to kill Ms Graham, until he had been thwarted by her lover, but Henry had managed to injure him sufficiently that he could not fight to save her life. In the end it had been Annie against Henry and last time she had won, putting up an excellent fight; this time she wouldn’t. He would bide his time until he was strong enough, both mentally and physically, for the challenge.

They drove along the bypass until they reached the outskirts of Ulverston. Megan began to laugh at the monument on the top of the steep hill which overlooked the town that could pass as a lighthouse.

‘What is that—oh, no, you know what it looks like, don’t you?’

‘What do you think it looks like, Megan?’

She giggled and shook her head. ‘Sorry, I have a filthy mind sometimes. It’s nice. A bit of a strange place to put a lighthouse, but still, it’s different.’

Henry bit his tongue. He hated ignorance and he had to remind himself that she was half his age. She carried on driving through the town and carried on towards Dalton, then Barrow. Henry told her to take the road which led through the industrial estate so they could head straight for Walney Island and the caravan site. He smiled at the sights; he had missed this place. They passed Asda and carried on to the roundabout which would take them past all the fast food restaurants. Henry pointed them out to her, even though she couldn’t miss the bright neon signs offering their greasy wares.

‘I suppose you should remember how to get here; isn’t that the crap that all you youngsters live off?’

She began to laugh. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t like a greasy meal after a heavy session the night before? Do you drink, Henry? I totally forgot that you’ve been teetotal since you’ve been lodging with us.’

‘I don’t really know. I mean, I do drink but I haven’t missed it. I could always take it or leave it. I quite fancy a glass of something strong, though, once we get settled. In fact there’s a shop on the way to the caravan; do you want to nip in and get a bottle of something to celebrate our escape to freedom with?’

‘No need, I came prepared. I have a bottle of Irish cream liqueur and a bottle of whisky.’