WILL TIME WAIT: Boxed set of 3 bestselling 'ticking clock' thrillers (44 page)

Everyone
gasped at the red marks on my stomach.

Kerry
burst into tears. 

“That’s
enough, Kerry,” Dylan snorted.  “You’re laying the guilt on like jam.”

“What
would he do to you, Jenna?” Steve asked, then Dylan shot him a blazing
stare.  Steve shrugged.  “It’s just a question, bro.  I’m not
actually suggesting she go back to him.”

My
pulse pounded at my temples.  “Alan will punish me, that’s a given.”

Kerry
sniffed and wiped her eyes.  “But he won’t kill you.  If that was his
plan he’d have done it already.  He’s had plenty of opportunities. 
He just wants you back.”

I
tried to tap into my husband’s mindset.  “Alan’s arm candy has slipped the
leash.  I’ve battered his pride by running off with Dylan.”  I had to
put my own desires aside, put the happiness that I could have with Dylan into a
booth in my mind, for private viewing.  I cared deeply for Dylan, perhaps
I was even in love with him.  Because of this, I had to let him go before
he got hurt.  Or worse.  Dead.  I glanced at Dylan one last
time, taking a mental snapshot.

John
faced me.  “Jenna, I’ll drive to Kerry’s mum’s house, and you phone your
husband.  We’ll find out what’s going on and then think through our
options.”  He bent down to pick up the navy bag and mumbled, “We could
flush the drugs, and then call the cops and...”

“Oh,
great!” Kerry spat, causing John to drop the bag.  “So then our neighbours
will kill Elliot instead of Jenna’s husband.”  She rolled her eyes. 
“Smart idea, John.  Besides, if he sees the cops rolling up he might freak
out and—”

“Okay,
okay,” I interrupted, brushing a tear off my cheek.  “I’ll make the
call.  Then we’ll know the score.” 

“Go
ahead,” Dylan said.  “But that’s all.  There’s no way you’re setting
a foot back inside that house.”  Dylan wrestled to bust free of the duct
tape, then roared, “Will someone cut this fucking tape off me?”

I
smiled at him, loving how protective and concerned he was.  My heart ached
at the thought of never seeing him again.  Even if only for those few
hours alone in the forest retreat with Dylan, I’d opened the door to spirited
life again.  It tasted sweeter than I’d ever remembered. 

I
stood, never again looking down at Dylan.  I simply couldn’t.  If I
gazed into those loving blue eyes on that handsome face, I’d get trapped and my
heart would swell.  

I
would change my mind about ending our relationship to save him.

I
took my mobile from Kerry and brushed past her onto the landing, ignoring my
painful ankle and the flaming debate breaking out behind me. 

“Go
after her, Steve,” Dylan pleaded.  His desperate voice alone would have
made my heart batter my ribcage, but it already was.

“She’s
only making a phone call,” Steve replied.

I
stumbled downstairs.  Guilt tripped me up, knowing I’d allowed Kerry to
part-believe I’d return home to save Elliot.  I needed to phone Alan in
private so that I could choose my words carefully to suss him out.  If he
did have Elliot, I’d... that sobbing child returned to my mind again, filling
my chest with an icy pain... I’d have to tell Alan he’d won, ditch Dylan and
return home.  That would be the fastest way to make everyone safe again.

I
slowed my pace on the last few steps, scratched my nails down the
banister.  As my mind began remembering dark thoughts, sweat oiled my
skin.  I could already feel Alan punishing me; the sting on my cheek as he
slapped me to the floor, the tight grip of his fingers digging into my arms,
the darkness as he locked me inside...  Oh, God.  I’d be that person again
- dead-inside, staring up at the moon for hours each night, wondering why my
world felt so painful and claustrophobic, when it should be so incredibly vast
and beautiful.   

I
opened the front door to breathe some fresh air.  I stared out at the street,
painfully aware that if I ditched Dylan to save him, although my body would be
outside his house, my heart would remain inside this very door.

I’d
picked this weekend to leave Alan because my parents were on a cruise to
celebrate their anniversary.  I didn’t want them to get caught in the
crossfire.
 

Little
could I have known that an innocent five-year-old might be used as a
replacement pawn.  For the first time ever, I experienced a snippet of what
it must be like to be a parent, to care more for your child’s safety than for
your own. 

I
hit the button to light up the screen to phone Alan and noticed I had several
missed calls and one voicemail. 

From
him. 

“
O
h, my God!” I
said, barely two minutes into the recording.  My heartbeat quickened to a
staccato attack.  I  slammed Dylan’s front door shut and sprinted
back upstairs.  In my hurry, I scraped my elbow against the wall and
tripped twice. 

Dylan,
Kerry, John, and Steve were still arguing the toss over who the new hostage was
and what to do about it.

I
pushed John out of the way and entered the bathroom, interrupting them. 
“Everyone shut up and listen.”  

“Jenna!” 
Dylan said.  He beamed a smile so wide that his eyes lit up the
room.  Perhaps he had thought I would slip back home to my husband.

I
smiled briefly then waved my phone in the air.  “This sounds kind
of...”  I took a breath.  “Something’s off.”

I
located the button to switch my mobile onto loudspeaker.  “Listen up,
everyone.  This is a message from my husband.  He starts off asking
me to come home, then music blasts, he turns it down, and then some men he
doesn’t know enter the house.  They told Alan to hang up the phone... but
he didn’t.  That’s as far as I got.”

Everyone
circled the mobile in my hand.  Dylan, still bound on the floor, shuffled
into the centre and drew his knees up to his chest.

I
pressed play to restart the voicemail.  After listening to a guy - who
sounded like the Geordie-accented man who’d held me captive in the scrap yard -
instruct someone to drop a little surprise down the chimney at the forest
retreat, none of us made a sound or moved an inch. 

I
remembered that heart-stopping moment all too well.  The bomb may have
only been a warning, but it could so easily have killed some of us.

“I’m
confused,” I said, glancing at everyone.  “So my husband does or doesn’t
know this man?”  I pursed my lips and continued listening.

“Snake
for a mate forever,” my husband said, his voice squawking out of my
mobile.  He sounded injured.  “That’s the password.  We’ll join
forces, but there’s one condition... I get to deal with my cheating wife.”

I
tensed.  “I knew it,” I said.  “Knew this was all down to him.”

“The
bastard,” Steve snorted.

“Hush,”
John said.

We
continued listening. 

Geordie
gave a slight laugh.  “Aye.  I should’y guessed it’d be something
like that.” 

There
was a pause on the recording filled by footsteps.

I
realised that the Geordie-accented man must have been staring at Alan’s
tattoo.  The red snake coiled twice around his neck.  Alan saw it as
meaningful art.  To me, it was a monstrosity which served only one
purpose: to remind me daily of my suffocating life. 

Geordie
continued.  “And that’s definitely it?  We’ll force it out of your
wife if you’re lying.” 

Alan
yelled in pain. 
In pain?

What
were they doing to him?  Alan’s in trouble?

The
second guy on the recording laughed, and then said, “Ooh, that must hurt. 
Gun barrel in your eye socket is not to be recommended.  You’d better do
what he says, Alan.”

Steve
flinched.  “A gun?” he said.  “Oh, this isn’t good.”

Dylan
put a finger to his lips.  “Shush.”

We
continued listening in near perfect silence as Alan cried in pain.  After
a pause, he finally blurted out, “That’s the password, you dumbfuck!  Now,
let’s get down to business.”

The
recording went silent for some seconds.  Then Alan spoke again.  “I
wrote the software.  So I’m the only one who knows the ins and outs
of—.“ 

“Now
that’s just not true, is it, Alan?”

“Look. 
I never wanted a partner, but seeing as I have no choice, move this bloody gun
out of my eye and let’s talk about what we—“

The
man in charge spoke over him.  “You’re in luck, Alan.  I
dinna’t
do
partners either.” 

In
the recording, someone was breathing rapidly, took a deep breath, but didn’t
exhale... and then...

“Oh,
my God!” Kerry screeched and cupped her cheeks.  “They didn’t?”

We
all leaped back, broke the circle, stunned silent. 

I
dropped the phone.  My legs quivered.  I crumpled to the floor. 

“Mother
of God!” Steve yelled.  “Was that a...?”

A
sudden coldness shook me to my core.  No one wanted to say it.  That
might have made it true.  I didn’t want to hear the words out loud either,
but there was no other explanation. 
            Alan didn’t
speak or call out in pain again.

“No,”
Dylan said.  “It wasn’t.  Was it?”

My
mind went solid black.  I couldn’t answer, couldn’t move, couldn’t even
breathe.  My body felt heavy and displaced.  It may as well have been
filled with lead.  But I knew the sound on the voicemail to be a
gunshot.  The pop was so loud, so distinct.  It had risen above every
other sound both on the recording and in the house.  It was still ringing
in my ears. 

“They
killed him?” John roared.  “They shot your husband?”

Dylan
shook his head in despair.  “Shittin’ hell!  The whole thing’s
screwed.”  He gestured for me to lean against him.

“I...
I... No.  It’s,” I cried, slumping.

Dylan
kissed my hair.  “It’s all right, Jenna.”

I
sobbed against his chest, bunched his top in my fists.  I must have bitten
my tongue because a coppery taste filled my mouth.  I wasn’t sure how I
felt other than shocked.  I hated my husband, but I had never wished him
dead.  Not murdered.

Not
truly.

Geordie
spoke again, “Set everything out like I told you.”

Then
the voicemail ended.

John
left the room.  Floorboards creaked in spurts on the landing.  He
paced up and down, muttering to himself and kicking things.

“What
is it?” Kerry whispered, rushing to his side.  “I can’t understand
you.  Tell me.”

John
brushed past Kerry and entered the bathroom again.  He punched the door
and looked up.  “So, if it’s not your husband who’s doing this, Jenna...
that means it’s the people who killed him... who have... h-have—“

Steve
stepped forward.  “They might have your son.” 

Kerry
collapsed on the floor with a thud.

There
were no words.  The room fell a breath short of silence.

S
teve raced
downstairs to plug the house phone back in so he could contact Kate. 
Kerry hurried down to the living room while chain-dialing her mum on my
mobile.  John followed.

I
remained slumped on the floor in the bathroom, my hand rubbing Dylan’s back.

“I’m
not the enemy here,” he said. “I'm not going to do something that would
jeopardise anyone's safety.  Trust me.”

I
thought about it, and decided I did trust him.  “Okay.”  I kissed him
on the mouth, and then ripped the tape off his wrists. 

We
got to our feet and went downstairs to join everyone in the living room. 
“We should make copies of that voicemail,” Dylan said.  He took my phone
off Kerry.

“No,
wait!” she protested.

“I
just need it for a few minutes.”  Dylan whizzed back upstairs to plug it
into his computer. 

I
found Dylan’s mobile on the floor.  Kerry spied me using it so I turned
away.  I dialed my parents and left a voicemail insisting that they phone
me back immediately.  I needed to know they were definitely on the cruise
ship, out of harm’s way.

Steve
was still trying to contact Kate.

Dylan
came back downstairs.  Kerry took my mobile off him and tried dialing
again.

“My
parent’s aren’t answering the phone,” I said.

“I’m
sure they’ll be fine.”  Dylan stroked my arm.  “They’ll be sunning
themselves on deck.  Is there any phone reception on cruises?”

I
shrugged.  I had never been on a cruise and didn’t know the answer. 
I prayed that my parents were all right.

“Mum!”
Kerry shouted into the phone.  “Thank God.  At last!”

I
put the phone down and listened.

“Why
haven’t you been answering?  Where’s Elliot?”  She stood in the
middle of the living room, paused, and then her voice soared.  “He what?”

“Tell
me,” John demanded, spinning her around to face her.

“Oh
God.”  Tears filled Kerry’s eyes.  “Elliot was worm-hunting on the
front lawn.  Mum nipped back in the house to make a cup of tea and
then...  Elliot was gone!  She’s been looking all over for
him.”  She held the phone to her ear again.  “Say that again,
Mum....  You went where?  To the shops, yes...  my house... 
and then to our neighbours!” 

John’s
eyes sprang fully open.  “Oh, shit!” 

Kerry
continued relaying the conversation.  “You remembered what? 
Yes.  I know, I know, about wanting to change his name.”

John
held his hands out and whispered, “So where is he?”

Kerry’s
face was a tight mask of worry.  “Changing his name to Spongebob
Squarepants.  Yes.  I know all that.” 

I
squeezed Dylan’s hand.  This was not sounding good.

“Mum!”
Kerry yelled.  “He’s five.  He’s not gonna—“  She paused to
grunt in anger at the phone, then put it back to her ear.  “Okay. 
I’ll meet you there.  No.  Don’t you dare!  I’ll explain once
we’ve found him.”  She hung up.

John
held her by the shoulders.  “Well?”

“Oh,
Christ,” Kerry whimpered, her watery eyes shining in the light.  “I think
Elliot’s gone to church, thinking he can pay the Vicar to change his name to
Spongebob... or something silly like that.”

“Well,
that’s good, isn’t it?” I said.

She
shook her head.  “It gets worse.  Mum went to our house looking for
him, bumped into our neighbour and told him that...”  She paused.  “I
was wrong.  I don’t think it’s your husband who has him, Jenna.”

John
gestured towards the hall.  “Let’s go.  Before our neighbour gets to
him.”

I
rushed to the bowl on the coffee table.  “Here.”  I tossed my car
keys to John.  “Take these.”

“Fizz?”

“No. 
My Corsa.  I left it here on Friday.  It’s faster.  Now go.”

John
and Kerry raced to the front door and left.  A moment later, the car
roared up the street. 

My
heart jammed tightly in my throat.  I paced the room.  “I hope they
make it in time.”  I felt useless, agitated, unable to stop
fidgeting.  I couldn’t just stand here and wait.  “We should go with
them.”

Dylan
grabbed his car keys, squeezed my hand and led me to the front door. 
“Come on.  If we hurry, we can catch up to them.”

“Wait
a sec,” Steve said, stopping in the hall.  “I can’t go anywhere unless I
find my mobile.  I need to get in touch with Kate.” 

“Use
Dylan’s mobile on the way,” I said.  “It’s on the coffee table.”

As
I limped next to Dylan toward the pavement, my Corsa came screeching back down
the street, tanked up on what seemed like rocket fuel.  “What
the...?  Slow down!” I yelled.

John
left it too late to slam on the brakes.  My car skidded to a stop and
crashed into the back bumper of Fizz about five metres in front of us.  A
demonic crumpling of metal rushed into my ears.  All I could do was watch
in shock.  “Oh, Jesus!”  I cupped my face in my hands.  “Of all
the... Great job parking my car, John,” I bellowed, glowering at him through
the windshield.  “Have you actually got a driving...”  When I caught
sight of Kerry’s grave eyes through the side window, I clammed up.

She
climbed out of the passenger side, all pale-cheeked and sobbing.  She
hunched forward like she had the world and everyone in it hanging from her
shoulders.  Just seeing her made my insides clench.  Hearing her cry
killed me.

Footsteps
came up behind us.  “Has someone just had a...  crash?” Steve said.

John
got out of the car.  “Oh, Jenna, I’m so...”  He slammed the door
shut.  There was nothing remotely happy or hopeful in his face or
voice.  “Kerry’s mum just phoned.  She’s been to the church, and the
Vicar said a man collected Elliot to take him home.  Said Elliot knew him,
and knew the reason he’d gone to the church.”  He met my gaze and choked
out the words, “It was our neighbour.”

It
felt like my cars had crashed all over again, only this time the impact was
inside my chest.  “Oh, Jesus!”

“So
what are you doing back
here
?”  Dylan flicked his head, gesturing
up the street.  “Take the drugs.  Drive to his house.  Get your
son back.”  Dylan rubbed my arm, but I was too numb to feel the tingles
that I normally did.

John
joined Kerry on the pavement and walked toward us.  “He’s not there. 
Kerry’s mum has been round to our neighbour’s house.  It’s empty.”

“We’re
late bringing him the drugs,” Kerry blubbered.  “It’s all my fault.”

“What?”
I blurted.  “Don’t say that.”

John’s
features tightened.  He looked annoyed with himself.  “We had to come
back.  I forgot the bag.  It’s still in your house.  I’m such a
klutz.”

“We’re
screwed.”  Kerry kicked a wheelie bin.  “Machete Mack and our little
Elliot could be miles away by now.“

I
gulped.  “Machete?  What kind of a name is that?”

“Exactly,”
John said, his nostrils widening as he inhaled a strained breath.  “That’s
what people call him because someone attacked him with a machete, nearly took
his arm off at the elbow.”

Kerry
hugged herself and cried.  “My baby!”

John
gave Kerry’s shoulders a squeeze.  “Machete will think we’ve
double-crossed him, shopped him to the police or... or run off with his
precious drugs.  Oh, God.  Poor Elliot.”

John
and Kerry moved nearer to us, stopping where the path gave way to Dylan’s front
garden.

Steve
groaned behind us.

“What
is it now?” Dylan asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Kate’s
still not answering her mobile,” Steve responded.  “Surely she can hear it
ringing in her handbag?”

I
swallowed hard, not wanting to throw my dark thoughts out there.  But
someone had to say what no one wanted to hear.  “Do you think Kate’s the
new hostage?” 

I’d
never seen tears in Steve’s eyes before, but they were pooling up now.