WILL TIME WAIT: Boxed set of 3 bestselling 'ticking clock' thrillers (72 page)

A cold sweat broke through her pores.  Was it a test of
her compliance?  She turned and let her eyes do a quick sweep for the
camera wondering if the men were watching her, analysing her body and lip
movements right now.  And if she failed to stay silent they’d... Oh,
heck!  They’d make good on their promise.  Punish her family.

Nicola clenched her fists harder and heard paper crumple in
her hand.  Oh, crap.  The note!  She shoved it deep into her
pocket so no one could see it.  

Was this stunt with John really a test of her compliance? 

Or worse.  A warning?

Oh, fuck.

A double layer of worry tightened around her heart. 
Hell!  Had those men seen her via the cameras trying to slip Christa a
note?  Is that what sparked this evil act?  Could they have pulled it
off this quick?

Nicola shuddered.  Yes.  A warning.  That had
to be it.  And Nicola had received the message louder than a siren
blaring. 

For those men to deliberately allow John’s body to be found,
and to keep Nicola alive, then they must be supremely confident that... they
were untraceable?

The police officers looked at Nicola as she gnawed her
bottom lip.  “Are you okay, Miss?  Do you want a drink of water or to
sit down?”

“I’m fine.”  She inhaled a quivery breath and returned
to staring out the window.  She’d have to phone her parents, her gran, get
them to disappear for a few days.

“Has your husband had any recent arguments, or any incidents
happen that you can think of?” an officer asked Christa.

“No.  I err...  We’re going through a divorce, so
it’s messy right now.  But outside of that, I can’t think of any problems
he was having.  But then I wouldn’t know.  We were barely on speaking
terms.”  Christa sniffed.  “What happens now?”

After the police finished talking to Christa, they offered
their condolences again and Nicola showed them out. 

Still trapped in a wave of shock and blinding fear, she
hovered outside the office in the hall while Christa shouted upstairs several
times, competing against the music, for Sarah to come down for a chat. 

Nicola’s eyes misted when Sarah skipped past her in the
hall.  Poor girl.  She had no idea what was coming.

“What’s up, mum?” 

Christa wrapped an arm over Sarah’s shoulders and guided her
through to the living room.  “Come in here, sweetheart.”

The truth would put their lives at risk.  Nicola didn’t
have to question whether she wanted to protect them.  It was
ingrained.  Christa welcomed her into her home when she didn’t have a
place to stay, rarely judged her, and always went out of her way to offer
encouragement and support.  Their close bond was incredibly important to
Nicola, and she would not question going above and beyond to protect Christa
and Sarah.

“Look, sweetheart...” Christa began, and broke the news.

“Dead?” Sarah screeched.  “How?”

Christa explained in a clear and gentle, but edited way.

Sarah’s gasps and sniffing exploded into thundering sobs
which echoed down the hall.  It fired chills through Nicola as she stood
in a red haze, listening behind the open living room door.  Poor
girl.  Sarah loved her step-dad and this was not something she should have
to deal with.  It sounded as though the news was sucking all life from her
little body.

“It’s okay to cry,” Nicola heard Christa say.  “I know
you loved him.” 

Nicola whipped around and sprinted down the hall into the
toilet where she burst out crying, needed the release.  She splashed her
face and neck with cold water and then returned to the living room.  “I’m
so sorry.  This is awful.  What can I do?”

While hugging Sarah, Christa glanced up, her eyes raw and
shining.  “Why has this happened?”

Nicola shrugged.  If only Christa knew the true
insanity of it all.  Pain twisted deeper inside her as the vision of John
on the kitchen floor and the bloodied knife in Nicola’s hand flickered into her
mind.  There were no words, but she had to say something in case Christa
grew suspicious of her unusual silence.  After all, John’s death shouldn’t
affect Nicola quite so
deeply.  “B-but I... Anything I can
do.  Anything.  Just tell me.”

She’d have to question Christa about the words ‘My duty’
inked into John’s body later, away from Sarah.  Christa clearly knew
something
about it.

Nicola tried to swallow the monstrous hunk of worry in her
throat.  John was already dead.  Why did those men need to do such a
stunt at all?  And why loop Brian into it?

“I guess the police will be able to tell us more once
they’ve examined the body in more detail,” Christa said, sniffing back her
upset. 

Yeah, like your husband is full of stab wounds.

“Oh, maybe I shouldn’t have told them about the
divorce.  I mean, what must they think?”

“They’d have found out anyway,” Nicola mumbled.  “His
parents would have told them.” 

Christa rocked Sarah in her arms.  “We’ll get through
this.  Together.  Everything’s going to be all right.  You’ll
see.”

Nicola’s stomach, her shoulders, her neck were all
tightly-pulled knots as she grabbed the flash drive from her back pocket and
raced into Christa’s office.  If she was correct and this was a warning,
she couldn’t waste another second. She had to finish uploading the software to
all of the customers’ computers.  Quick.  Then do – she shuddered -
something
to entertain viewers.  Before they pulled another stunt with someone she
did care about; someone who still had breath in their lungs.

CHRISTA

I
stared at the boarded kitchen window, remembering the good times John and I had
shared over the years; our beautiful wedding day with Sarah as a bridesmaid,
soaking up the sun in Spain, buying this house and getting excited about
restoring it to its former glory.  Oh, my... I sighed.  Our marriage
hadn’t all been bad, and John had been an excellent step-dad to Sarah. 
Christ.  And now he was dead.  That was the last thing I’d expected
when the police knocked on my door.

“You okay?” Nicola asked, rinsing her hands at the sink.

“It seems silly now, Nicola,” I mumbled.  “But, at
first, I thought the cops had come around to...” 
Oh, shit.  Thank
goodness I stopped myself.  What a disrespectful thought at a time like
this.

“To what?” Nicola asked, turning to face me. “Christa?”

“Forget it.  This is far worse.  How could anyone
do such a thing?”  John’s murder was so hard to process.  I didn’t
want him in my life anymore, as a husband, and if I’d caught up with him yesterday
I’d possibly have throttled him, but it still hurt so very much and left me
feeling empty.  “And the deadline... well, this explains why he never
contacted me.”

“There are some nasty people in the world.”

“Nasty doesn’t even begin to describe it.”  Wanting to
swap my brain for one which didn’t teem with depressing thoughts, I scraped a
chair across the kitchen tiles and stepped on it.  “I’ve been meaning to
clean these cupboards for weeks.  They’re filthy.”

“Christa, now is not the time for cleaning.”  Her voice
lowered to a mumble.  “I just wanna curl up and sleep.”

“It’s therapeutic.  I need to take my mind off things.”
 Oh, I couldn’t bear to think about what horrors John must have gone
through for a moment longer, and I had to stay strong for Sarah.  I opened
the corner cupboard first and removed all the tinned food, slamming them down
on the worktop in pairs.  A packet of peanuts sat at the back.  I
ripped the plastic packaging open and tossed a few nuts in my mouth.  I
crunched down and a wooden saltiness exploded across my tongue.  But
really, I could have used a sugar boost.  I offered them to Nicola. 
“Have you eaten today?”

She shook her head.  “Kinda lost my appetite.”

Once the shelf was empty, I squirted anti-bacterial spray
inside the entire cupboard and scrubbed vigorously with a cloth.  Anxiety
buzzed through my entire body.  “It’s filthy.  We live like pigs.”

“It’s not that bad,” Nicola said with a sigh.  “You’re
just stressed.  Please come down.”

I opened the next cupboard, emptied its contents onto the
crowded worktop, scrubbed the interior then moved onto the third.  By now,
my right arm ached in protest, but the muscle burn actually felt good. 
“Sarah’s devastated.  My parents are totally shocked.  Here’s me
worrying about John telling Sarah about her real dad, and all the time he
was... was dead.”

Nicola, who was checking the sell by dates on the tinned
food, looked up at me.  “It’s so sad, and frightening.  Are your
parents coming round to see you?”

I shook my head.  “I told them not to.  If I see
them I’ll probably break down and I have to be strong for Sarah’s sake.” 

“Good.”

“Good?”

“I just mean... never mind.”

Swear words rolled off my tongue as an image of John laid
flat on a cold table in a morgue flashed into my mind.  “I didn’t want him
to die.  I-I made a... birthday wish this morning.  I only wanted him
to stop making my life miserable.”

“Christa, your wish didn’t cause this.” 

“I know.  But still, I can’t help feeling guilty.”

Nicola tapped my knee.  “So... listen.  I’ve been
meaning to ask you something ever since the police left.  When the cops
mentioned those words on John’s skin.”

I shivered.  “Yeah.”

“I kinda got the impression that you knew something about
that.  Do you?”

Nicola’s probing gave a firm yank on my heart which was no
less crowded than before I started cleaning.  I scrubbed harder then
handed her the cloth.  “Rinse this, will you?”

Nicola rinsed it in the sink and handed it back. 
“Well, what’s the story?”  Her words were strangely brusque.

I pushed the cloth across the underside of the shelf,
scrubbing with brute force. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”  I tensed, opened my
mouth then closed it again.  Her burning stare meant she wouldn’t drop the
subject. 

“Christa!  Speak for God’s sake!  What are you
keeping from me?”

I turned and plopped my bottom down on the worktop.  It
was probably common to connect oddities together under stressful circumstances,
but this struck me as beyond coincidental.  “Okay.”  Her persistent
stare wheedled it out of me.  “It’s that text from Claire as well... 
I mean... I don’t believe for one moment that Brian had sex with her today,
but–”

“Oh no, you don’t believe her, do you?  That she and
Brian...  Jeez.”

“It’s not just that that’s...”

“I get it.  You think there’s unfinished business.”

I gave a little nod.

“But forget that, tell me about those words on John.”

“I was getting to that.”  I launched the cloth into the
sink and stared into her eyes.  “Before Brian dropped me off at lunch
time, he told me not to sign the divorce papers.  He said, and I quote,
‘there’s always a way around or through a problem’.”

“Yes, there’s more than one way to skin a cat, but–“

“I hate that phrase.”  Under the circumstances it was
quite fitting.  “It’s just something Brian said to me last night.
 Sounded... weird.”  I paused and wiped my arm across my brow. 
“He mentioned some biblical thing about doing
his duty
.  Some
babble about marrying a brother’s widow to keep the kid in the family. 
You know I’m not into religious stuff, but it does seem peculiar that he would
say that and then those–“

“Those very words would get inked into John’s back?” 

“And all this happens on the deadline of me signing the
divorce papers?  Oh, Christ, Nicola.”  My eyes filled with tears again. 
“I told Brian what John had threatened to do.  But I didn’t dare mention
it to the cops.  All this could make Brian a suspect, couldn’t it? 
Perhaps he already is.”

Nicola’s hardening eyes glinted.  “Hell, yes, it’s
peculiar.  But Brian had nothing to do with this!“

I wanted to believe her.  “You can’t possibly know
that.  Someone has done me a
big
favour.  My secret is
safe.  John can no longer tell Sarah about her dad.”  Guilt for even
thinking that way, let alone saying it aloud, coursed through me and I
shuddered, hating myself.

“Stop this!”

“I’m not actually suggesting that Brian tied John to the
back of his car.  I’ve known Brian since high school, he couldn’t do
something like this.  I’m just thinking that maybe it is all somehow
connected.  Oh, forget it.”  Still sitting on the worktop, I watched
Nicola chew her fingernails, fretting I thought, a mess like I was.  Then
I let my eyelids slide shut.  “I guess what happened explains why Brian
didn’t reply to my text earlier.”

“He loves you and he’ll call.  He can’t have been out
of the police station all that long, and he’s probably in shock.”  Her
face creased.  She set her hands on my knees and squeezed.  “Don’t
let this madness mess with your head.”

I blinked back further tears, but felt myself getting pulled
deeper into a well of doubt about the man I’d cracked my heart open for. 
“That text from Claire, I-it was like she was pleading for me to let Brian be
free.  I mean, I expected her to type a string of swear words for stealing
her man, not beg for his freedom.”  Did I misinterpret?  “Maybe she
knew that...  Well, John’s death has certainly given me
my
freedom
back.  And my secret is safe.”  I faced Nicola.  “It’s just a
coincidence... right?”

She sighed heavily.  “Brian did not have sex with
Claire today, and then kill John so he could stop him telling Sarah about her
dad and... free you and therefore free himself from some kind of... biblical
duty.  You’re talking nonsense.  The cops said John was killed last
night.   Brian was with you.  All night.” 

“Well... he did drive off to chase Steph...  Oh, my
head just feels so.  Ugh!”  I ground my teeth, angry with myself and
also guilty about letting Claire’s poison plant itself in my brain and mingle
with the death of my husband.  Of course they were two separate
things.  Part of me felt sorry for her.  In essence, I had stolen her
boyfriend, and for that, I did feel bad. 

The doorbell rang. 

Nicola practically jumped out of her skin.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and hopped off the
bench. 

Nicola seemed to shrink into a corner.  “D’ya think
that’s the police again?”

“Jeez.  You’re jumpier than me.” 

She rubbed her throat through her high collar and stared
nervously into the hall.

“Stay here.”  Frowning, I crossed her line of gaze,
dashed down the hall and opened the front door.  My neighbour Harry was
strolling away from the house in the last of the daylight.

“Hi.  Harry?”

He turned back and smiled, looking casual and toasty in grey
jogging bottoms and a padded jacket that made him look twice his size. 
“Oh, hi.  I just popped round to give you this.”  He handed me a
large brown envelope.  “They delivered it to my house by mistake. 
Looked important so I figured...”

My mobile beeped a text alert from my back pocket.  A
message from Brian?  Hopefully.  I skimmed my pocket with my fingers,
itching to read it.

“Is this a bad time?” Harry asked, trying to catch my eye.

I glanced up.  “S-sorry.”  Not wanting to appear
rude, I left my mobile in my pocket, turned the envelope over and read the
return address.  Whoa!  It was from a local company whose business
I’d been wanting to get, but I hadn’t even contacted them yet.  Oh,
wow.  Had Brian negotiated it for me on the sly?   Was this the
birthday gift he’d referred to this morning and it wasn’t the promise of sex at
all?  I realised that right now, I didn’t care either way.  “Thanks.”

“Listen, I, err,” Harry began.  “I wanted to wish you a
happy birthday.  I got you a little something but wasn’t sure this was the
right time to bring it.”  He thumbed over his shoulder.  “Did I see a
cop car here?”

I pursed my lips and nodded.  “John, my husband... he
died.”

Harry’s jaw dropped.  “You’re kidding me? 
How?  When?”

I wished I was kidding.  “He got dragged along the road
behind Brian’s car around lunch time today.”  I mentally kicked myself for
being so blunt, but then what did it matter?  It would be all over the
news soon anyway.  “But he’d been killed last night.”

Harry’s brows bunched together over horrified eyes. 

I felt a twist of pain in my chest for John.  I hated
the thought of him suffering, the thought of him gone, not part of the world
anymore. 
What must his parents be going through right now? 
Perhaps I should phone them. 
Tears pricked the back of my eyes.

“Jesus!  That’s quite a story.  I’m really sorry
to hear that.”

I blinked back tears.  “Sorry.  Guess that was the
last thing you expected me to say.  You know Brian, right?”

He drummed a finger against his lips.  “Isn’t he the
guy who’s dating my ex?”

“
Was
.  He’s sort of seeing me now.”

Harry’s eyebrows reached for his hairline. 
“Really?  And Claire’s okay with that?”

I recalled her text.  “Apparently not.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear about John,” he said.  “How
terrible.  Not a great birthday for you, is it?”

I shook my head.  I’d never make another birthday wish
again.

“And this happened today?”

I glanced back into the house, wanting to retreat and shut
the door.  God, questions, questions... but Harry had been a good
neighbour and I did not want to appear rude.  “Yep.  Today.”

“Jeez!”  He rubbed his chin.  “When did you get
together with Brian?  Sorry, that’s personal.”

“It’s okay.”  I studied him, saw a glint of something
in his eyes.  Was he still lusting after Claire?  “We got together
last night.”  Go ahead, Claire’s all yours.

“Sounds a bit suspect to me when...”  He bit his lip
and discontinued.

He had a point with the timing.  I gulped, seems I
wasn’t the only one connecting events.  “Y-you think the two things could
be linked?”

He shrugged.  “I’ll drop your gift round another
time.  I’m sure you don’t want to be disturbed again today.  Well,
I’d better get moving, I’m going out this evening.”  He turned to walk
away.

I reached out and touched his arm.  “You’re a good
neighbour.”

“If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”  With
a tight-lipped smile, Harry walked away down the snow covered path.

After closing the door, I wandered down the hall, noticed
the office door ajar.  I poked my head inside.  “Oh, Nicola, you’re
in here.”

“Yeah, er... sorry.”  Sitting behind my desk, her hands
moved frantically and she slammed the laptop lid closed. 

I pursed my lips.  “Everything okay?”

She gave me a hollow smile.  “Just finishing up paying
my catalogue bills.  Was that Harry?”

“Yeah.”  I waved the letter in the air.  “I think
it could be a contract.”  I didn’t want to open it yet.  Couldn’t
cope with another blow if they’d declined an offer I hadn’t even made
them.  What was Brian thinking?  It was lovely, of course, but I just
felt a need to deal with my problems on my own.  Remembering the text
message, I reached to pull the phone out of my pocket.  “Today’s really
fucking with my head.  And I’m really worried about Sarah.  She’s
cried herself to sleep.”

“Best place for her.”

“I’ll go check on her in a minute.”  I realised Nicola
was sitting at one of my customer’s computers.  “Shouldn’t you be at work
this afternoon?  Have you called them?”