WILL TIME WAIT: Boxed set of 3 bestselling 'ticking clock' thrillers (65 page)

NICOLA

N
icola
raised her thumping head off the cold kitchen floor and opened her eyes on
hearing a voice.

“Dale, you’re an idiot!” a man snarled distantly. 
“That wasn’t the plan.”

“I didn’t have a choice, Rick,” another man replied. 
“Shut up and let’s deal with it.  I say we off her right now.”

“No.  The girl lives, so keep your masks on. 
Looks like she’s been thrown a lifeline.”

“Why?”

“Henry thinks she can be of use, doing the uploads. 
Now keep your temper in check before you mess anything else up.”

“He’s making a mistake, but... okay.  Let me think
about this.”

God knew how long Nicola had been knocked out.  Every
muscle ached.  She ran one hand down her shivering frame. 
What
happened?
  Her shoes were missing, her top torn to reveal her bra, and
something sticky had matted the ends of her hair.  She fingered her
jaw.  It throbbed so much she could barely part her lips to draw breath.

The nauseating air reeked of sweat and smoke.  A long,
hard object sat tight within her fist, but her clouded eyes were yet to
focus.  Seconds passed in a blur. 

Her elbow touched something large as she staggered to her
feet.  She blinked and shook herself out of her whirlpool of confusion,
stared around and screamed.  Shock punctured her soul.  Death. 
A sobering, terrifying sight.  She burst into tears.  Her hand fell
open and a bloody knife clattered to the floor and skidded away.  A
knife?  Wha-t? 

“Welcome back,” said a bulky man in a padded jacket as he
stepped into the kitchen.

Her stomach blazed like liquid fire seeing John heaped by
her bare feet; motionless, head turned to one side, belly down in a pool of
blood over white tiles. 

In her panic to stand and distance herself from his body,
she fell against the kitchen cabinets and slapped a bloodied handprint onto the
worktop.

“Grab hold of her,” he said.

Footsteps tapping the tiled floor behind her cut through the
relative silence.  Nicola jumped and spun around.  Raw panic gripped
her as another man approached, wearing spectacles beneath his mask.

“Nice of you to join us,” he said.  “How’s your head?”

A cold breeze blew in from the patio doors behind her. 
Nicola’s torn top flapped as she backed up to the doors.  “Who... who are
you?  What do you want?”  She checked over her shoulder, ready to
split.

But the man who’d captured her on the drive came out of the heavy
snowfall into the kitchen, barring her exit.  “Yep.  He’s still out
cold, but breathing.  Think she hit him on the head with a roof
slate.  He’s gonna need a doctor.”  His knuckles drained white as he
cracked them.  He glared through his torn mask, and then cupped his
nostril where she’d burned him with the cigarette.

The well-built guy in front clicked his fingers. 
“Nicola.  Look at me.” 

He knows my name?
  Confused and sobbing, she
whipped around.

He pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket and stepped
closer to her.  “I know you’re scared right now, but you have to listen
and do exactly as I say.”

“Why the fuck did you have to come back home?” the man
beside him spat.  “And why did he?”  He pointed down at John. 
“Rachel cocked up.”

“Enough!”  The well-built guy ran a hand over his
masked head.  “Cool down.  It’s all gone wrong, but we have to focus
and clear this mess up.”

Clear it up?
 
And me?
  Holy
crap.  “Please.  Don’t hurt me.”  Her begging eyes darted
between the three men surrounding her, and then across to the house phone.

“No point,” he said.  “We already cut the line.” 

From behind, a man shoved her closer to John’s body.

The bulkiest man took a photo of her.  “Stand
still.  No need to smile.”

Nicola blinked as the man hunkered down to photograph her
again, closer.  Crouching, she tried to shield her face.  “Stop
it!  What are you doing?”

“That should be enough.  A camera never lies.” 
After taking another photo, he pocketed the mobile.

She spread her arms out to keep the men away, but her legs
wobbled and she tumbled to her bottom.  “What do you want from me?”

The man who’d photographed her glanced up at the corner of
the room, a place where Nicola recalled there to be a spy camera from when John
showed her what was on the tablet’s screen.  Nicola wondered if they’d
turned it off.  She hoped not.  John’s murder could be live on the
internet.  Surely some sick voyeur would have a conscience and phone the
police.

“I wonder what the cops will make of you offing your
friend’s husband for a cut of the life insurance, house and business?” he said.

What?  Nicola’s mouth gaped, too dazzled to respond
while his words crackled in her head like static.  These guy’s sure knew a
lot about them, well, Christa at least.

“Bloody knife in your hand.  Photos.  Hmmm...
tricky.”  He walked around John, studying his lifeless form, totally
undisturbed by the sickening sight.  Keeping his shoes out of the blood
pool, he crouched down next to John within striking distance of Nicola. 
“I am not a forensic investigator, but I’d say it doesn’t look all that good
for you right now.”  An unmistakeable menace shone in his eyes.  “I
can offer you a way out.”

Tears dripped as Nicola stared down at John’s blood smeared
all over her hands.  “The cops will wonder who took the photos and why
I’ve been beaten up.” 

He laughed.  “He fought you off, then you stabbed him
and took photos as a trophy.  Simple.”

She shifted focus to John’s body.  Scratch marks
running down the side of his neck caught her eye, and her stomach clenched. 
Nicola would bet her life that these men had dragged her fingernails across
John’s skin while she lay unconscious.  Skin cells, sweat, tears, her DNA
probably coated every inch of his dead body.  “Hold on a minute.  I-I
couldn’t have taken the photos because I’m in them.  The cops will wonder
why...” 

“They’ll think you had an accomplice.  Perhaps a
boyfriend who regretted helping you and decided to dump you in it.” 

Nicola opened her mouth to speak, but the bulky man raised a
palm to silence her.  “I need you to be calm, and focus on what I’m about
to say.  Can you do that?”

The blood pool, John’s guts, her torn stained
clothes...  It all made her brain slosh.  Knowing these men had set
her up cranked up her anger.  Against her better judgement she blurted,
“You bastards!”

The man stepped forward and, after bunching what remained of
her top in his fist, he pulled her up and jammed her against the wall. 
“You’ll thank me in a moment.  It’s your lucky day,” he said, winking
while running the back of his hand down her cheek. 

She turned her head away.  “Don’t touch me!”

“You’ve really coined it in for us lately.  It seems
you’ve not just caught the eye of, never mind, but you have several other fans
too.  Isn’t that right?”  He glanced back at his companions. 

“Something like that,” one replied, eyeing her exposed
chest.  “Loved watching you in the tub the other night.”

A vulgar grin stretched his lips.  He released her top
and stepped back.  “I’ll keep this simple.  You have three choices,
Nicola.  We can kill you now, you can get locked up for murder, or...”

“Or what?” Nicola’s faint voice sounded fairly calm as she
took everything in, but inside her head was a fuzzy-darkness. 
Call
those choices!

“Or make yourself useful.  Save us breaking in every
week.”

“Every week?” she yelped.

Murmured comments from the other men filled the room, but
fear prevented their words sinking in.

The man clapped his hands together near her face, demanding
full attention.  After motioning around, he pinned his sharp eyes onto hers. 
“All this mess, John, your fingerprints in the blood, on the knife...  It
can all disappear.”  He paused.  “It’s your choice.  But you’re
lucky you’re still breathing.  I suggest you choose wisely.  All you
have to do is upload software to the computers that Christa gets in for repair,
and keep us entertained on the website.  And I mean
fully
entertained.”

Nicola gulped.

“But if you mess this up, we’ll be coming back for Christa,
Sarah, and your families.  They’ll pay a hefty price.  It won’t just
be you.”

Nicola scowled, making her distaste crystal clear. 

He crossed his arms and widened his stance.  “What’s it
to be?”

Nicola’s heart squeezed.  If she played along until
these guys left, then she could call the police.  But then, apart from
family, Christa and Sarah were the most important people in her orbit. 
Could she risk putting their lives at risk by lying to these men?  They’d
killed once; they could do it again.  She closed her eyes and choked out
the words, “Tell me what to do.”

CHRISTA

I
helped Brian shovel snow to get Claire’s car out of the ditch while she sat in
the warmth of the passenger seat on the phone.  Once free, and half
frozen, I jumped into the back seat.  Brian turned the heat up and drove
us in her car toward his house.

Claire’s mobile beeped.  She grimaced, looking at the
screen, and then turned in the front seat to face me.  “What’s the
emergency?  Why are you in such a rush to get to Sarah?”

I chewed my lip.  “I don’t mean to sound rude, but it’s
private.”

She frowned then folded her arms over her chest and turned
away.  “You two are always keeping me out of the loop.”

Brian half smiled at her while steering around the
corner.  “I wish you two would get along.  It’s not that Christa
doesn’t trust you.  We all have things we like to keep private.”

Claire frowned, staring at him.

“Take your brother, for instance,” Brian said, his voice
just below a whisper, probably not intended for my ears.  “You don’t want
everyone knowing he did time in—.”

“Shut up!” Claire snapped, giving him the eye.

I gulped.  “Jail?”

Brian glanced at me through the rearview mirror. 
“Claire explained everything.  Nothing violent.”

“It had better not be if Sarah’s–“

“If it was,” he interrupted.  “I wouldn’t let him
anywhere near Sarah.  So, relax.  He’s on the straight now. 
Doing up an old house across the woods at the back of yours.”

Claire shot Brian a razor-sharp glare.

He winced.  “Sorry.  But Christa won’t say
anything.  I’m happy he’s getting on in his life.  People deserve
second chances.”

“And
I
wouldn’t gossip about
her
private
stuff,” Claire fired back.

Brian drove away from town into the countryside.  I
glanced out of my window at the beautiful whited-out landscape and spotted
movement.  “What the hell are they doing?”

A car drove at high speed across a field, dragging two
youngsters by a rope on a sledge.

“Christ!” Brian said.  “I’ve seen it all now.”

“It’s the latest craze,” Claire said. 
“Car-sledding.  I’ve heard some even do it on the roads.”

“Don’t these people have brains?” I shook my head.  “If
Sarah ever did anything that stupid I’d...”

“Listen, Claire,” Brian said softly, turning into his
street.  “It might be best if you don’t stay at my place tonight.”

Oh, dear. 
I’m sure Claire won’t be happy about
that.

“What?” Claire yelped, then glanced at me, a flash of rage
in her eyes.  “We need to talk.”

If looks could inflict pain...

“We do, just not now,” Brian said.

“Why?” she asked.  “I thought we were getting takeout
and finishing discussing
you-know-what
.”

“Christa has some stuff to sort out with her ex.  I
think it would be best that you go home.”  Brian slowed the car as he
neared his house.  He patted her thigh.  “We’ll catch up
tomorrow.  Promise.”

“Can’t I even come in to eat with you?”

“Best not.”

“Nice to know where your priorities lie.”  Claire
mumbled.  “What if I drive into a ditch again?”

He gave a light chuckle, pulled up outside his house but
left the engine running.  “You only live round the corner.  Christa
can get out here, then I’ll drive you home and walk back.”

I sat quietly in the back, disliking the awkwardness. 
Claire’s lashes fluttered over eyes craving Brian’s attention in the
half-light.  I pretended not to notice her fingers exploring his upper
thigh area across the console. 

Has she no shame?

“You don’t really want me to go, do you?” The words slipped
off her tongue like warm honey, leaving no doubt as to what delights would be
on the menu tonight.

I felt a strange pang in my stomach.

“Oh, come on, babe.”  Brian smiled stiffly and peeled
her hand off his privates.  “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

I cleared my throat and unbuckled my seatbelt. 
“I’ll... er... nip in to see if Sarah’s come back.”  I opened the back
door then paused, feeling the need to smooth over the cracks.  “I’m sorry
about all this, Claire.  I didn’t mean to ruin your plans.  I’ll get
Sarah and go home.”

Brian shook his head.  “No, you won’t.  I’m going
to help you deal with your husband.”

”Typical.”  Claire spat the words.  “Are you
always going to pay more attention to her and Sarah than to me?  Is that
what our life will be like?”

“Please, Claire,” Brian said.  “Let’s not discuss this
here.”

I thought it best to say nothing else and stepped out of the
car. 

As I closed the door, I heard Claire speaking to
Brian.  “You’re obsessed with that caulbearer and her mother!  What
are you?  Some sick vamp worshipper?” 

I froze on the path.
 

“How dare you!” Brian snapped back.  “This is the last
straw.”

How nasty.  Vicious, narrow-minded woman.
 
I balled my hands into fists, fighting the urge to open her door and throttle
her for talking about my daughter that way. 

That term had not entered my head in years; I’d tried to
erase that awful year from my memories by not allowing myself to think about
it.  For some reason, Brian must have told Claire about Sarah being born
with a full mask covering her face at birth, like a membrane veil which looped
around the ears.  Extremely rare.  I thought of Sarah as extra
special for being born with a caul, a good omen, not something nasty and weird
like Claire’s razor-edged voice portrayed.

Who does she think she is?  Why would Brian even
mention that to her?

They continued arguing in the car. 

My mind churned things over as I walked to his front
door.  Oh, my God!  I gulped.  I knew Brian really wanted kids
at some point and...  Were they discussing starting a family?  And
Sarah’s rare ‘caul’ birth had got slipped into the you-know-what conversation
they needed to finish?

Clearly, Claire felt sidelined tonight.  But if she
ever spouted such comments in front of Sarah, I would not let her near her
again.  But right now, I had to protect Sarah from John.  I’d deal
with Claire’s comment later, and this one, I wouldn’t let go. 

I dashed to the front door and pressed the buzzer. 
“Sarah, sweetheart, are you in?” I called through the letterbox.  “It’s
mum.  I’m taking you home.”