WILL TIME WAIT: Boxed set of 3 bestselling 'ticking clock' thrillers (66 page)

NICOLA

N
icola
sat on the cold floor with her sore wrists strapped together and roped to the
hot radiator pipe.  After carrying the man who’d been knocked out by the
roof slate away, they returned for John.

Shaking with fear, she watched in disgust as two men encased
John’s body in cling film from scalp to toe.  Yes, she’d been thrown a
lifeline by some apparent fan, but if she said the wrong thing, no doubt she’d
end up on the floor with John.

The floor tiles, slippery with blood, gleamed under the
kitchen lights only a metre from her feet as the third guy bent down to pick up
the bloodied knife that had her fingerprints all over it.  “Just in case.” 
He winked at her and then wrapped it in cling film with his hands that had
sticking plasters around his fingertips, to prevent leaving prints she
presumed.

Two men hoisted John up and carried him to the patio doors
as though disposing of old furniture.  “We’ll get rid of him and also dump
his car down a lane somewhere in the rough part of town,” the bulky man, who’d
photographed her, and was holding John’s legs said to the man with a torn
mask.  “No doubt joyriders will take it for a spin, set it alight and
throw the cops off the scent.”

“No doubt,” echoed the man who wore spectacles beneath his
mask.

“Clean this place up while we’re gone.  I’ve just
received a text that they’re on the move.  Thirty minutes, then everyone
out, and then we’ll get... er...” He hesitated and glanced at Nicola. 
“Get him to turn the cameras back on so we can keep a close eye on
this
one.”

Nicola gulped. 
Another guy?  How many are
involved in this?

“And I’ve got a good feeling that...” He paused to wink at
Nicola, his gaze sliding down to her chest.  “She’s gonna keep us nicely
entertained from now on, give our viewers their money’s worth.”

Ugh!  Nicola’s stomach lurched.  She tried to
turn, to shield her body from his dark and titillated eyes.

The two men left through the back door, and the one who wore
glasses stayed behind.  Nicola had to sit and listen to the laboured
scrape of metal on concrete as he shovelled snow, coloured red by blood from
the other guy’s head wound, into a pile outside the patio door.  After
boiling the kettle, he melted the snow with hot water and swished it down the
drain. 

“Where’s the mop?” he asked, stepping back inside.

Nicola shrank away from his glare.  She had no
intention of helping him do a thorough job, although she willed him to hurry
and ship out before Christa returned home.  God knew what they’d do to
her.

“Fine.”  After rummaging through cupboards, he returned
with a mop and bucket in hand.  He sloshed bleach over the floor and
started mopping up John’s blood pool.  Nicola’s mobile phone lay on the
floor in pieces below the sink near the splattered birthday cake.  He
cleaned the mess up with paper towels and binned it.

Sickness swirled in Nicola’s stomach as she watched John’s
body fluids get squeezed into a bucket and then poured down the drain. 
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, heat flooding her to the core.

He shot her a hard, venomous look through his glasses. 
“Don’t talk.”

“Is the money really worth killing for?”

“It was his own stupid fault.  If he hadn’t tried to
sneak into the house again tonight, he’d still be alive.”

“So you knew what he was doing?  You watched him on the
cameras trying to scare us out of Christa’s home?”  Nicola didn’t know why
she said that.  These scumbags were leagues above John and his petty
crimes.  Why would they care what he’d been up to?  John’s mischief
probably upped the ratings.

“I’m not here for chitchat.”  He waved her off. 
“Do what we ask, we’ll leave and no one else need get hurt.” 

“Hurt!  My life is on the friggin’ internet!”

He grabbed a dishcloth and bleached the worktop, wiped down
chairs and door handles, despite the plasters that masked their
fingerprints. 

The fast and efficient clean-up job suggested he’d done this
before.

“Remember, we have the knife with your bloody prints on it,
and photos.”

A scrap of a huff passed her lips. 

“Got something else to say?”  His eyes were cold, his
body language threatening.

“If the police see those photos, they’ll wonder who took
them and then they’ll probably discover the hidden cameras.”

“They’ll not link them to us.  We’ve got everything
covered.  Now either be quiet, or I’ll come over there and make you.”

She gritted her teeth to lock her angry retorts
inside.  One guy had already pawed her breast in the utility room tonight,
wherever he was.  Dead she hoped.  She had to stay clear of this
pervert’s grasp, fearing he might take things a stage further if she riled him
up too much. 

He pointed to a corner in the kitchen.  To a
camera.  “Don’t forget.  We’ll be watching closely.  Slip up and
your friends will pay the price.  And don’t forget, you’ll have a hard
time convincing the cops you didn’t stab that guy to death.  That’s if we
decide to keep you alive.”

Nicola gulped and gagged.  The overpowering sharpness
of bleach assaulted her nose.  Breathe a word, and not only would she be
fingered for John’s murder or killed, but these monsters would go after Christa
and Sarah.  She could not allow that to happen.  There was no way she
could signal Christa in the house when she returned either, or call the
cops.  These guys would be watching her movements like hawks through the
hidden cameras.  Perhaps even hear her. 

Secretly uploading webcam-activating software to the
computers Christa gets in for repair was surely worth it to keep those she
loved safe.  What choice did she have?

Perhaps she could write a note and slip it into Christa’s
hand off camera, or...

“Got anymore bleach?” the man asked, opening a cupboard and
rummaging around.

Nicola didn’t answer, but he found another bottle anyway.

“You should thank your lucky stars you’re still alive.”

“Huh!  I think you should be thanking me for agreeing
to—“

He broke into a laugh.  “Thanking you?  Look love,
our little money spinner would go on just fine without you.  This house
isn’t our only means of getting cameras into people’s homes.  It’s just
handy.  Gives us a glimpse.”  He paused.  “Maybe it’s your tidy
little body and bouncy tits.”  He paused again and let his eyes roam over
her. 

Nicola wished she could melt into the floor to hide.

“Because if you were a bloke, I don’t think you’d still be
breathing right now.”  He laughed again, then bent down and scrubbed blood
spatter off the skirting board.  “Very dusty down here.  I really think
you need a stricter cleaning regime.”

Nicola silently seethed.  Somehow, Mr. Mop had
manoeuvred her into feeling bloody thankful for them offering her a deal to
stay alive.  A deal with the devil, of course, but a deal that kept her
breathing. 

“Besides,” he said.  “You do get us a lot of hits when
you soap your tits in the bath.  Do it again tonight.  I’ll be
watching.”  He sneered down at her.  “And giving the cops a reason to
enter this house is not in our best interest right now.  But just in case
you get tempted.”  He paused to glare, and Nicola shrank back against the
radiator.  “I’ll fill you in when I’ve finished cleaning.”

Nicola made a secret resolve with herself.  As soon as
she got the chance, she’d screw them over.  Until then, she’d do what they
wanted and try not to think about it.  Tears sprinkled her cheeks. 
Knowing she’d be aiding them in violating people’s privacy meant the thorny
pricks in her heart would never go away.  Even more innocent people would
soon have their private lives, and parts, exposed on the internet while these
monsters coined it in and got their rocks off.  Sick! 

She’d certainly never walk around naked again or play with
herself on the bed.  But then what would they do to her if she refused to
keep them entertained?  And Sarah!  Hell.  Something would have
to be done about her.  She’d make it her mission to ensure Sarah would
never again star in their lurid, sodding reality show.

CHRISTA

I
watched Brian get out of Claire’s car and trudge to the front door behind me,
shaking his head.  
Guess he isn’t driving her home anymore.

Claire climbed into the driver seat.  She sped away
from the kerb, fishtailing up the street with her tyres sending up rooster
tails of snow.

I hugged my coat to keep from shivering, and bit my
lip.  Oh, dear.  Brian did not look happy.

As he approached, a beautiful jet black cat jumped over the
side fence, shot across the garden and climbed up a tree - few worries in the
world except for dodging cars and people. 

If there is such a thing, I am so coming back as a cat in
my next life.

Brian pulled his keys out of his pocket.  “With an
attitude like hers she can drive herself home,” he said, with angry eyes. 
“I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

Brian looked agitated enough without me screaming about
Claire.  Besides, I had bigger issues.  Thank goodness John’s car
wasn’t here.  “People argue.  Nothing new.  Those who say they
don’t are liars.”  I squeezed his shoulder.  “Are you okay?”

He glanced at my hand.  “Claire was rude.  I’m
sorry.  I’ve had it with her attitude.” 

Something troubled him, so I removed my hand from his
shoulder and felt a little hurt. 

“Come on.”  He opened the door with a key.  “Let’s
check on Sarah.”

I dashed indoors.  Sarah’s coat hung on the stand. 
Dark patches showed it was damp and her sodden gloves lay on the floor. 
“She did sneak out!”  I raced down the hall and into her bedroom. 
The lights were off.  She laid under a mound of covers in bed, breathing
softly in her dreams. 

Brian came up behind me and peered over my shoulder. 
“Well, at least she came back.”

“Like a boomerang,” I whispered.  “She’s a little
madam.  We need to have words.”  I stepped forward into the room
intending to kiss her awake. 

Brian hooked my elbow.  “Yes, but leave it ‘til
morning,” he whispered.  “At least she’s back safe and sound.  If you
wake her, she’ll ask why you’re here.  She doesn’t need to know what’s
been happening with John.  Not yet.”

I hesitated, then retreated and quietly closed her
door.  “You’re right.  I’ll get the Spanish inquisition later. 
I need to think this through.”

“Come on,” he said.  “Let me fix us something to drink,
and then we’ll talk.  You have my word I won’t let John anywhere near
her.”

While Brian disappeared into the kitchen, I paced his living
room, clutching my phone after trying but failing to reach Nicola again. 
Why
can’t I get in touch with her? 

Sarah was safe from harm and randy boys, and so a little
tension drained out of me.  But knowing John could still tell her the
truth about her dad at anytime, did nothing to ease the anger rolling off me in
waves.  

My head unclouded.  After dialing some mutual friends,
I managed to obtain John’s mobile number.  He didn’t pick up and it went
to voicemail.  Cradling the phone against my ear, I said, “John.  We
need to talk.  Phone me when you get this.  We have to sort the
divorce out like adults.  Sarah’s just a kid.  Drag her into it and
I’ll bloody throttle you!”  I hung up.  “Asshole.”  I plonked
down onto the sofa.

Brian entered the living room and handed me a glass of
wine.  “Who were you talking to?”

I looked into his eyes then stood.  “I think I should
take Sarah home.  I’ve left John a message, but I’m afraid he might still
drive over here.”

“Relax and sit down,” Brian insisted.  “If he shows up,
we don’t have to let him in the house.  Besides, the sooner you two talk
things over the better.  Sounds like you need a mediator.”

“More like a protection order.”  I sat.

“Probably wouldn’t happen.  I mean, he’s not violent,
or stalking you, is he?”

“No.”  I sunk low on the sofa, sipped my wine and
hugged a cushion.

“Want me to see to that cut on your cheek?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.  Just a graze.”

He grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the skin around my
wound.  “I’m sorry about Claire’s Caul comments.  She was out of
line.”

Feeling awkward, I picked up my drink and sipped it,
brushing him away.  “I’m fine.  Thanks.”

Brian tapped my thigh.  “The main thing is that Sarah
was a healthy baby, right?”

“I just wish your mum had been healthy too.  It was a
tough time for your family.“  God knew how she got through chemo while
coping with the death of her son.”  I paused.  “So why did you
mention the Caul thing to Claire?”

“I didn’t.  Must have been my loopy sister.  She
googled it to death years ago.  I don’t know what she hoped to achieve,
but something was fuelling her.  She must have spouted all those myths to
Claire; the baby will never drown, have special insights and so on... Hey! 
I remember her saying that some cultures even believe caulbearers will grow up
to be vampires!”  His lips curled up in jest. 

I stared, half-expecting fangs to descend from his
gums.  “Sounds... crazy.”  I chuckled.  He was clearly trying to
lighten the atmosphere.  “I don’t really believe in all that.”

“The thing is, what Claire and I kind of argued about
earlier, lately, and then again in the car...”  He cracked the ring pull
open on a can of beer, and stiffened on the sofa at my side.  “Claire
wants more commitment from me.  But I can’t give it.”

I rolled my gaze across to him.  “Are you sure you want
to discuss this with me?”

He nodded.  “Claire thinks I talk to you about her
anyway.”

“That explains a lot.”  I settled against the
cushions. 

He swigged some beer, put it on the coffee table, stood and
circled the room.  “I thought our relationship was clear.  I wasn’t
after anything heavy and was totally upfront about that.  She seemed fine
with it.”

“Maybe at the start.  But you’ve been together for well
over a year.  Things change.  I mean, you might not live together
but... c’mon, I mean... didn’t you say your mum met her and did the whole baby
photo album thing?  I mean, that’s kind of a sign that things are getting
serious between you.”

He rolled his eyes.  “My sister’s doing.  Not
mine.  They’re best friends lately.”

“Anyway, if you didn’t want anything serious then you
shouldn’t have dated her for this long.”

“It wasn’t like I planned it.  I thought she was after
something casual too.  She was on the rebound from...  Oh, what’s
your neighbour called?”

“Harry.”

“That’s right.  Do you think he’ll take her back?”

A giggle burst out of me.  “Brian!  That’s awful.”

He grinned cheekily.  “Anyway, there’s something
between me and Claire that just isn’t connecting.  Know what I mean?”

“Kind of.”  I raised the glass of fruity wine to my
lips.

He walked to the window, parted the curtains and gazed out
into the night.  “It’s been at make or break stage for a while now. 
Claire knows it too, but won’t accept it.”

“She won’t?”

“I know it’s awful of me to talk about her like this. 
It’s not something I’d normally do, but there’s a reason for...”

He obviously needed to unload but felt bad about it. 
“My lips are sealed.”

“I don’t want to hurt her.”  Brian turned.  He
stared through me, as though debating something while I sipped my drink. 
He crossed the room to the coffee table and reached for his beer again. 
Having gulped down plenty, he hung his head and murmured, “Claire says I’ve
been distracted since you and John split up.  Before she drove off and got
stuck in that ditch, she accused me of being in love with you.  Again.”

His unexpected words drilled into my shocked brain.  I
spat my wine out, spraying it across the thighs of my jeans.  “Whoa...
what?” 

Brian took the glass from my hand.  “Oh, dear. 
You’re soaked.  Let me...”  He raced into the kitchen and returned
with a tea towel and fresh glass of wine.  “Here.”

I took the towel and dabbed my jeans with it. 
“Thanks.  That’s quite a thing for her to say,” I commented, probably
staring at him like an awe-struck idiot, a rabbit caught in headlights. 

He knelt in front of me and placed a hand on the arm of the
sofa.  “How do
you
feel about what I just said?”

I gulped.  Heat swarmed my cheeks in the
awkwardness.  Knowing the boundaries of our relationship, that was the
last thing I’d expected him to ask.  “Well...”  I took deep breaths
to compose myself.  “Nicola’s always saying stuff like that too.  No
one gets us.  I mean... it’s not like that, with us, is it?” I said,
casually, glancing at him with a wan smile, wondering at the question myself.

He lowered his eyes, then raised them again.  “What if
it were like that?  What if it always has been?”

My stomach flipped.  He was deadly serious!  I sat
immobile, abruptly thrown back to the events of fourteen years ago when I
discovered I was pregnant and his brother died.  “Brian.  You said
that we should never talk about this.  We agreed to never go back there
because too many people would get hurt.  Like your family.”  It stung,
but back then, my mind was a constant tornado and I didn’t want any more
heartache hurled around.  Besides, my life had changed and I had to focus
on my pregnancy, grow up fast and put my own needs aside.

He rubbed his chin.  “Agreeing to
that
was the
biggest mistake of my life.”

Good heavens!  My mouth gaped. 

“I think that’s why I cannot bring myself to commit to
Claire, to anyone.  Not fully.  They’ve been more like friends with-“

“Benefits, yeah, yeah.”

“The thing is, maybe all these years, I’ve been simply...
waiting for you.”

Crikey! 
This is awkward.

He wrung his hands and circled the room again.  “I’m
sorry.  I’ve put you on the spot and I shouldn’t have.”

“N-no.  It’s okay.  Well, yes, you have put me on
the spot.  Please sit. You’re making me dizzy.  I guess I just
thought we could only ever be...”  I picked up my glass and hugged it with
my hands, feeling scared and nervous.  “Look, you’ve just been arguing
with Claire.  This is rebound talk.”

“It’s been on my mind far longer than tonight.  Why do
you think I moved back to this town?”

“Say what?”

He sat beside me.  “We make a great team, don’t we?”

That was true.  I nodded.

“Enjoy each other’s company.  Have a laugh ‘n’ all.”

I swallowed a big gulp of wine, enjoying its warmth and fuzz
in my head.  I let my eyes roam the framed family photos on his fireplace,
reminding myself that he was Sarah’s uncle.  Family.  “Yes.  We
do.  B-but that doesn’t mean we should... should cross the—”  I
sputtered and floundered like an engine about to stall.  My words died
completely when Brian set his hand on my thigh and squeezed. 

“I feel alive when I’m around you, Christa.  No other
woman has ever had such an effect on me.  I think you’re remarkable.”

Remarkable?
  I glanced his way, shocked but also
uplifted by the beauty of his words.  “Wow.  Thanks.  But Brian,
I’m really not that great.”

“To me you are.  And I can’t bear the thought of you
finding someone else and missing my chance.  Again.  Perhaps for
good.” 

I held my breath, stunned. 
Did he really just say
that?

He twisted until his knees brushed my thigh.  “If it
weren’t for my brother’s death and my mum’s illness, we’d have told everyone
that we wanted to be together, right?”

“But we didn’t.”  I twisted my hands in my lap. 
“And let’s not forget the not so small detail that I was carrying your
brother’s child.”

“I know.  God how I wished it was mine.”

“So it would have been... wrong.”  Brian clearly had a
tenacious grip on the past which I’d had to lock away long ago.  “Your mum
would have been mortified.  She needed all her strength to get well.”

“I know.”  He hung his head.  “I don’t think mum
or my dad would have coped.”

“People would have disowned us.  My parents would
definitely have kicked me out.” 

“My sister would have gone off on one.”

I gulped.  Brian didn’t know that I’d blabbed to his
sister that I’d been seeing someone else back then.  Him.  They lived
on the same street and she was the first person I’d dared to tell about my
pregnancy.  She was training to be a nurse, was a good listener, and the
only adult who I thought would advise rather than judge me.  I’d cried on
her shoulder and it just popped out, although I never told her it was
Brian.  Thank goodness.  It may have been selfish, but I couldn’t
bear the thought of her deserting me.

“But I never forgot how tough it was on you, Christa. 
Anyway, then I went off to University.”

“I told you to go,” I said, hoping to remove some of his
pain at abandoning his family. 
And by God did it hurt me when he left
. 
His brother’s death had stripped him of all motivation and I figured that he
just needed someone to tell him it was okay for him to up and go, to find his
own way to heal, because his family would never had told him that.  “Or
you’d have been miserable and stuck in some dead end job.”

“I’m grateful you encouraged me to leave.  Going to
University then working in various cities was the right thing, career wise, and
so I could get my head straight.  But in some ways I regret it now.”

I frowned.  If he hadn’t moved away, then where would
he be right now?  Stuck in the pain of the past like other members of his
family?  I was pregnant and trapped, had just discovered how quickly one
single event can make life change forever, but saw no reason for him to be
trapped as well.  “Why do you regret it?”

“For one, it was selfish of me to leave.  I missed
seeing Sarah each week and...  When I came back, the things I hoped would
change hadn’t, but the thing I hoped wouldn’t change...”  He let a few
seconds ride by then regarded me with intense, troubled eyes.  “I earn
enough money to be comfortable, not have to worry about paying my bills or
having little luxuries.”