WILL TIME WAIT: Boxed set of 3 bestselling 'ticking clock' thrillers (64 page)

I raised my head, glared up at the sheer-edged, dark cliff,
then at Brian.  “I cannot believe I did that.”

I stood up straight, and then Brian clapped his hand to mine
in an enthusiastic high five.  “But you did.  I’ve got total respect
for you!"  He beamed.  "Way to go, Christa!  Now let's
hurry and get Claire's car.”

NICOLA

N
icola
felt her throat tighten.  “Why isn’t the phone working?”

“You’re mouth’s still bleeding.”  John’s body language emanated
no menace, but something brittle about his voice suggested he was not entirely
innocent.  Did he do this?  Did he send in the heavies to force
Christa to sign the papers?  Nicola didn’t know what to believe.

She swiped her hand across her lips as tears spilled onto
her cheeks.  Tonight’s attack was all too much to digest.

John, a good four inches taller than Nicola, tapped his red
trainers on the floor, then glanced around and picked up a tablet computer from
the worktop.  "Is this yours?"

Nicola’s suspicious eyes roamed John’s, then the
computer.  "No.  It must be that guy’s." 

“The guy on the patio?”

"Why did the phone die like that?" Nicola asked,
still impossibly confused and gripping the knife for comfort.  How would
she phone for help now? 

John shrugged, his eyes fixed on the screen of the tablet,
his fingers tapping it.

Perhaps the weather knocked out the phone lines... or...
 
A combination of fear and curiosity rumbled through her body while she did a
speedy rethink.  Claiming he was here to speak to Sarah could well be
true, but it could also be a cover.  “It’s... it’s strange that you turn
up right after I’m attacked.”

“Attacked?  I half thought
you’d
-“  Without
warning, John gasped in horror at something on the screen.  His protruded,
now blazing eyes shot off to a corner of the kitchen.  “Jesus bloody
Christ!”

Nicola flinched.  "What’s the matter?  What
did you see?"

"It's not what
I
can see, it's what others can
see."  He glanced up at another corner, waved a hand in the air.

A faint snap and rustle came from outside.  They
flinched and turned to the patio doors.

“Oh, shit,” John said.  Veins pulsed on his forehead as
he tapped the screen.  “Two men are outside.  Who are they, Nicola?”

A chilling panic fluttered in her chest.  She bent and
fumbled for the knife.

The crunch of feet on snow started in the back garden, grew
louder and rapid. 

“Find them,” a man bristled. 

“Oh, Jesus!  They’re wearing ski masks.”  John
shut the patio doors, locked them and tossed the keys.  “Move it!” 
He grabbed Nicola's hand and dragged her away before she could clinch the
knife.  Her elbows banged and scraped against walls as he pulled her down
the hall.

In this frantic race for her life, Christa's grand home left
Nicola dizzy.  The walls seemed to move in around her.  Where should
they hide? 

The patio doors rattled.

“Over there," John whispered, rushing her past several
doors.  He stopped outside the office and fumbled with the keycode
lock.  "What did Christa change the entry code to?" 

A silent but alarming bell rang inside Nicola’s head. 
“How do
you
know she changed it?”

“Just get us inside,” John rasped, and checked over his
shoulder. 

Nicola’s fingers shook as she entered the four-figure code
on the mechanical keypad. 

Once inside, John closed the door to lock it.  The
large room was fairly dark with only a small lamp throwing light onto Christa’s
desk.  John clicked it off.  Apart from the glow of the computer,
they stood in darkness.

Nicola tried to peek at the screen.  “Why do you keep looking
at that?” 

“Hush a minute.  I need to think.”

His thoughtful expression surely hid a cagey scheme. John
had made Christa’s life hell recently over negotiating the divorce.  But
despite the cold fingers of doubt tightening around her, he seemed to be trying
to help.  And she didn’t have a choice but to listen to him unless she
wanted to get collared by those men.

Feet shuffled in the kitchen.

“Damn.  They must have house keys.”  John’s
nostrils flared as he breathed in heavily.  "Coming in here was a bad
idea.  I’ve got a feeling they already know the entry code.”

“W-what?”  Her thoughts whirled in panic. 

“They know every inch of this place.  This is
insane.  We should switch rooms." 

“We don’t have time!”  Her vision blurred with
tears.  “They’re already in the house.”  If John was also a bad guy,
she’d jumped from one devil’s clutch to another. “Oh, god, they’re gonna find
us and kill us.”

“Shut up.  Let me think.  Grab anything we can use
as a weapon.”  John grabbed Nicola’s hand and led her quickly and quietly
around the edges of the room.  “How do I phone or email out on this
thing?” he muttered.  “What do I press?”

Nicola picked up an extension lead thinking she could swing
the hard end at her attacker’s head.  She stayed close behind John, relieved
that the carpet softened their steps, but petrified the men would blast through
the door any second. 

“So long as the lights are off, we should be okay.” 

“Okay?  I think we’ll need more than the dark to
protect us.”

“I’ve got an idea.  Follow me.”  John slid along
the right wall, tablet in hand as though using it as guidance.  “Over
there.”  He pulled her to the full-length window seat on the far
wall.  He lifted the cushioned lid, emptied out some magazines from
inside, then pointed down.  “Get in.”

“In there?" she squeaked out.  "This is your
amazing plan?”

He cocked his head.  “Got a better one?”

The front door was locked.  Her keys were in the
kitchen.  No time to run upstairs.  And if they tried to bust the
painted-shut window, the men would hear exactly where they were.  “Guess
not.”  Nicola climbed inside.  She molded herself into what felt like
a narrow curved coffin, on top of cables and books, silently cursing.

“Which way did they go?” a man’s voice rasped from the hall
that she didn’t recognise.

“Check downstairs.  I’ll search upstairs,” another
replied, more muffled and Nicola strained to hear.  “And you... 
Run... and check the feed.  See if you can spot...  This is a bloody
mess and it needs sorting.”

Footsteps, centred in the hall, thumped away in three
different directions.

"Scoot down."  John climbed in after Nicola,
tossed a magazine on top of the lid and pulled it closed.  He lay squashed
against her, thighs in a spooning position.

“Where’s your phone?  Call the cops,” Nicola whispered.

“In my car, charging.”

“Nice one,” she muttered, irritated.

The office door rattled and a light clicked. 

“Shush,” John whispered.

Hell.  John is right about them knowing the code.

A set of footsteps tapped, barely audible, into the room and
began walking the perimeter.

Nicola tensed and held her breath.  Whoever was hunting
her down passed by the window seat because the curtain scraped on its pole
above.  Every muscle bunched.  She lay beside John in the soft glow
of the tablet, shaking and twitching with every footstep.  Her shoulder
jutted up against the metal pins of a wall plug.  John's chest heaved
against the small of her back. 

Nicola wished she had stayed in the car with Brian and
Christa, rather than play cupid and be so foolishly vain.

Cupboards rattled in the office. 

What were they looking for?  Documents? 
Money?  Computers?

Sweating and shaking in equal measures, laying in silence in
the confined space, Nicola tried to get her brain in gear.  Perhaps this
was just a robbery gone wrong, a second attempt like Christa had feared. 
But what on earth was on the tablet computer that had freaked John out so much?

NICOLA

N
icola
shook as if on vibrate.  Tonight was scaring the crap out of her. 
Footsteps faded out of the office.  The room fell silent save for humming
pipes and a ticking clock.

“What now?” Nicola asked John who was squashed against her
inside the window seat. 

“Do you have any idea who they are?”

“No.”

Someone ran upstairs saying, “No one leaves until we find
them.”

John pushed the seat lid up and climbed out. 
“C’mon.  Quick.  The windows in here are painted shut.  We need
another way out.”

Limbs numb, Nicola got to her feet.  Shadowing John,
she sprinted across the carpet and they stopped behind the door. 

“This is a blind spot,” John whispered.  “Stay close.”

Floorboards creaked overhead.

John inched the office door open and stuck his head
out.  “Follow me.”  He dragged Nicola across the hall, and pressed
his back against the wall opposite the office.  One more glance at the
screen and he raced into the coat cupboard.  He parted the coats and
shoved Nicola into the hidden cove on the right onto her knees.  Its
sloping roof went around the corner and under the stairs.  “We should be
safe here.  I know this house better than they do.”

With her heart pounding in her ears, Nicola realigned the
hanging coats.  She placed some tall boots and oddments in front of them
and squashed up against John in the darkness.

Pallid light from the tablet softly lit John’s creased
face.  He craned to look at Nicola and gulped.  “I’m not sure you’re
ready for this,” he whispered, then flipped the tablet around to show her the
screen. 

Her jaw dropped. 
Bombshell!
  Christa’s
kitchen was displayed on the screen.  On the floor near the splattered
cake was the knife she’d dropped only moments ago. 

John tapped the back button and the entire screen filled
with snapshots of rooms around the house. 

“Cameras?”  Nicola whispered.  “All over our
friggin’ house?”

“I’m afraid so.” He tapped the screen and zoomed in on
real-time, full colour moving footage, flipping from one room to the next,
showing men searching them. 

Nicola gasped. 
Holy crap!

“Someone’s guarding the back door,” he said.  “He’s wearing
a mask so I can’t see his face.  Another guy’s in Sarah’s bedroom right
now.  Damn.  That room’s our best way out.”

How’s he figure that?
  “Sarah’s?”

“Yep.  Why are they here, Nicola?”

“I wish I knew.”

He clicked through to the home page.  Beneath a vibrant
red and turquoise banner were a mass of thumbnail-sized video feeds from
various houses.  Each screen was a frozen teaser, titled and with a brief
blurb underneath.  Some had flashing red borders showing current activity
or perhaps popular feeds.  “Whoa.  This isn’t the only house they
have cameras in,” John explained.  “This is a website full of them.”

“My God!  Perverted... peeping Toms.”  Nicola
flushed in anger as she read the title of her and Christa’s video link: Hot
Mansion Girls.

“It’s sick.”

Nicola shuddered and hugged herself.  Countless
strangers had undoubtedly watched her undressing, bathing, and at bedtime had
probably witnessed her...  “Oh, Lord.  This can’t be true.”  She
cushioned her face with her hands.  Had every private moment in this house
in fact been public?  And for how long?

“From the angle, I’d say a few look like webcams,” John
explained, tutting and shaking his head in disgust.  “But the rest,
well... these monsters have actually installed fixed cameras into people’s bedrooms,
bathrooms...  See?  Just like in here.” 

“But how?  Why?”

“For money.  People pay to subscribe to the site.”

“P-pay to watch us?  No... n-no!”

“Just like you and Christa, those being filmed are probably
unaware.  I guess that gives the voyeurs a bigger thrill.”  He
clicked on the camera in Nicola’s bedroom; a man was upturning her room right
here and now.  “People bathing, having sex, arguments...  There’ll be
kids on here too.  It’s outrageous.”

Nicola’s heart clenched at the thought of Sarah being
filmed.

“You name it, and they’ve probably watched it.  It’s a
voyeur’s paradise.  Even I’ll be on there, peeing behind the—”

“What?”

“Shush.  Someone’s coming.”

Footsteps rapped down the hall.  Several doors banged
open and closed.  Lights clicked on and off.  “Can’t see ‘em. 
Where the hell did they go?” a man rasped, then opened the coat cupboard. 
Light pooled on the row of boots shielding their feet.

John clutched the tablet to his chest to dull the bright
screen. 

Nicola huddled on her knees against John in the shadow of
the coats, digging her nails into his wrist.  A hand came through the rack
of coats, blindly sweeping the air an inch from the top of her head.  She
dipped lower and leaned sideways, held her breath and bit her lip to lock in a
whimper.  The man’s fingers brushed the sloping roof.  Some seconds
later, he closed the cupboard and raced upstairs.

“Sick bastards.”  Nicola gulped air, heart
thundering.  “We have to tell the cops.”

“Absolutely,” John whispered.  “I’ll email the police
on this, if I can work out what to press.  It must be 3G seeing as the
phone line’s out.  Or cut.”  He fumbled with the screen. 
Eventually several rows of apps appeared.  “Safari.  That’s the
internet, right?”  He opened the app and Nicola watched him type ‘police’
into the search bar.  Just as the results page loaded, the screen
blacked.  “Oh, crap!”

“Idiot.  What did you do?” she whispered.

“I don’t know.  Nothing.  It’s locked!  I’m
frozen out.”  A passcode entry box showed in the centre of the
screen.  “Double crap.  It’s timed out or...”

“No, it can’t have done, you were just using it.” 

He stared at her.  “Well then, someone’s locked us
out.  Remotely.”

Nicola swallowed.  “Can they do that?”

He shrugged.  “I think you can on smart phones, so
maybe you can on this.  But without the passcode this computer’s no use to
us.  We’re blind now.”  John ditched it and crept through the hanging
coats in the cupboard.  “But there was no one in this part of the house on
the footage a minute ago.”

“I can hear someone moving around upstairs, but not in the
hall.”

“We’d better get out while we can.”

“No.”  Nicola grabbed his arm.  “Let’s stay here.”

“And what about Christa or Sarah?  What if they come
back?  We have to get out and call the police.”

Nicola bit her lip.  Yes, Christa could be on her
way.  Oh, crap.

“Besides, if they phone more people to help them search then
we won’t stand a chance.”

Nicola’s mind hopped back a couple of sentences.  She
tugged his sleeve.  “Why would
you
be in the footage? 
Peeing?”

“Not now.  We don’t have time,” he said, suspicious
undertones to his voice.

Hmmm...  “What are you hiding?” 

“Come on.”  He grabbed Nicola’s elbow, opened the door
and poked his head out.  “All clear.”  He signalled Nicola and
together, they dashed down the hall.

“We can’t open the front door without a key.” she whispered.

“And mine won’t work since Christa changed the lock.” 

The lock?  He knew that too?  It was starting to
sound like he had been watching them on the website himself.

John hurried her into the downstairs toilet and slid the
little bolt in place.  “I watched them look here a minute ago.  We
should be safe for now.  There isn’t a camera in here.” 

Glad to hear it.

Nicola yanked free of his grip and backed up to the
sink.  No doubt about it, there was something dark and dodgy about John
being here tonight. 

Nicola bunched his sleeve in her fist, leaned forward and
forced eye contact.  “How did you know that Christa changed the office
entry code?  You’d better tell me what’s going on or I swear to God
I’ll...”

“Jeez!  Do we have to discuss this now?”  He dug
his teeth into his lip, then sighed.  “Okay.  If it’s the only way to
shut you up...  This isn’t the first time I’ve been back inside this house
since... the split.”

She frowned.  “I need more than that.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed.  The low
rumble of a voice came from upstairs.  When it ended, John whispered,
“I’ve been trying to
persuade
Christa to move out.”  He held her
gaze.  “There.  Happy now?  Can we leave?”

Small but unexplained events flashed through Nicola’s mind
like a slide show, until her mouth fell open.  She leaned back and stared
with a fresh, critical eye, stunned.  “More like
frighten
her into
moving out, right?”

His face crumpled.

She shook her head in disgust.  “That disgusting smell,
the strange noises... th-that was all you?”

He lowered his eyes.  “I’m not proud of myself. 
And look what shit it’s landed me in.”

Huh?  Did he want her to feel some sort of sympathy for
him?  “You do realise that you’ve committed illegal acts.  What about
the break-in last night.  Was that you?”

John nodded then humphed, apparently amused.  “I can’t
be convicted for entering or even vandalising my own house.”

Nicola hoped her stare would burn into him.  “Don’t get
smart with me, pal!”

“Look, Christa hurt me, and yes, I’ve been an ass.” 
John’s snide but whispered tone oozed jealousy.  After peeking through the
window and muttering, “there’s no one on the driveway,” he glanced back at
her.  “She never loved me.  It’s always been about
him
.”

His words moved through Nicola, chilling her.  Nicola
knew he was referring to Brian and totally agreed.

A melody began playing from somewhere down the hall.

“What’s that?  A ring tone?”

He slid past Nicola to the window above the sink and fingered
the catch to open it.  “Think you can squeeze through here?”

Nicola nodded.  “Asshole.” 
John won’t squeeze
through there, surely.

John opened the window, and then turned and offered her his
hand.  “I shouldn’t have done what I did, but right now,
this asshole
is your best shot of getting out of here alive.”

Nicola wanted to punch his lights out, but compared to the
men who were hunting them, John was a pussycat who’d probably peed behind
Christa’s radiators.  Vile man!  She clasped his hand.  “If we
make it out of here, I-I’ll kill you myself.”

“Fine.”  John helped her lift her leg onto the sink.

When Nicola was half way through the window, someone ran
down the hall.

“It’s in this cupboard,” a man yelled.  “But they’re
not.”

“Hell.”  John gasped.  “That tune must be a
locator or something on the tablet.”  He shoved Nicola’s bottom to push
her through the window.

A moment later, the toilet door rattled.  “They’re in
here,” a man shouted.  “Someone go outside, round the front in case they
escape.”

“Hurry,” John said, shoving her again.

Nicola slithered through the window and landed hard on her
hands on the icy concrete at the front of the house.  Despite pain
shooting up from her wrists, she rolled over and scrambled to her feet. 
For a split second, she considered leaving him, but then gratitude toward John
washed through her and she stretched her arm through the window.  “Give me
your hand.”

John reached up, but then someone kicked the toilet door
open, knocking John against the wall.  “There you are,” a tall man in a
ski mask and leather jacket said, then bellowed through the house, “The girl’s
outside.  Hurry.”

A shock wave of panic tore through her.

“Run, Nicola!  Go!”  John grabbed the pot cistern
lid off the toilet and raised it. 

Nicola turned and ran down the drive, sticking to the side
to avoid triggering the security light. 

A man bombed through the side gate, chasing her. 

Oh, shit.
  “Heeelp!”

He hooked her arm, jolting her to a stop and turning her to
face him in the moonlight.  “Going somewhere?” he asked, one hand on her,
the other holding a cigarette.

Full of rage, Nicola clawed his face and his ski mask tore
open on one side, revealing stubble and a glistening face of sweat.

He tightened his hold until she cried in pain, and then shook
her hard.  “Guess you’re stuck with me.”  He drew on his
cigarette.  Smoke-heavy breath puffed her way, and the orange glow of a
cigarette bobbed between his lips.  A light came on inside the house
illuminating him.

Nicola’s pulse quickened to about forty miles an hour. 
She gasped.  “I know you!”  It was the guy who’d crashed his car into
a wall near the pub.  “I helped you.  How can you do this to
me?” 

He shrugged, showing he didn’t give a damn.  “It’s
business.  Nothing personal.”

Unable to escape his grasp to run away, she raised her free
hand, whipped the cigarette out of his mouth and rammed the lit end up his
right nostril. 

His eyes bugged out and his grip on her slackened. 
“Bitch!” 

Nicola planted the heel of her foot into his groin with all she
had.

He howled and doubled over, cupping his privates.

She turned and ran flat out along the drive, hair flapping,
tears streaming down her face, eyes fixed on the street ahead.  “Someone
help me!” 

Heavy feet thumped along behind her.  “Get back here
and shut your mouth.” 

It took barely ten seconds for Nicola to reach the road, but
the man was fast.  Too damn fast.  Tight hands gripped her shoulders,
yanking her back.

He wrenched her around in the snow.  “You’ve done it
now, bitch.” 

Nicola saw the raw anger in his eyes.  Blood dripped
down his right eyebrow; the cut from the crash.  She tried to duck as he
raised a hand and whacked her across the face.