‘It was Ivor and Larry, wasn’t it? They were the two that molested you. The change in you is nothing to do with being able to carry on working at Westerley. It’s because your second abuser is now dead. He was released from prison two weeks ago. You’ve both been waiting all this time?’
‘Those two bastards took my life,’ she spat. ‘You can’t even imagine what those fucking pigs did to me. I smell their foul, toxic breath every night; hear their perverted whispers in my ear. One after the other after the other, passed around like the bottles of whisky they shared.
‘They took my childhood and my family. I could never go back to my life. By the time I was able to leave Bromley I didn’t even know my parents, and they didn’t know me.
‘The terror they caused took over my body like a cancer. It was everywhere. There was never a choice, Inspector. For me to live, they had to die.’
Kim heard the raw emotion in her voice. Despite what Catherine believed, she would never be free of those men.
The raindrops were becoming more frequent now. The ground around them offered a cloying smell as the rain hit the dry earth.
‘My life begins now, Inspector. Tonight I can live again.’
‘Graham killed them, didn’t he?’ Kim asked, the realisation hitting her. ‘That was the deal. You would help each other and that’s how he helped you?’
Kim knew she couldn’t call out. Any sound from her and Graham would be gone and Tracy with him. Without the link to Westerley she would never find him again. He was like a cat bringing home a mauled mouse to its owner. Without the tie to Catherine she had nothing.
Kim was struck by a sudden thought as a raindrop landed on her cheek.
‘But if you’re partners why didn’t you warn him not to come?’
‘Ooops,’ she said.
‘Jesus, you want him caught, don’t you?’ Kim said, aghast at the woman’s duplicity. Graham had taken the lives of the men who had abducted and abused her, but now they were dead, Catherine wanted him gone. His purpose was complete and only two people knew the truth about her involvement with Graham.
With Graham safely caught and behind bars, that left only one person.
Kim.
The icy coldness of the woman before her chilled Kim to the bone.
Suddenly the radio hit Kim in the left temple. She tried to stay upright but she stumbled to the side.
It was the only advantage Catherine needed to push her to the ground.
Kim kicked out as Catherine threw her onto her stomach. Within seconds, her hands were tied behind her back. She kicked out again, but Catherine avoided her feet easily.
Catherine dragged her around by the hair, and she felt the plastic bouquet wrapper crunch beneath her back. The brittle stems splintered beneath and cut into her exposed skin. The thorns pricked at her skin. The grass was damp against her flesh.
Kim bucked against the tree, but with her hands tied she couldn’t get very far. The wood of the tree grazed the back of her hand.
‘You know you’re not going to tie every loose end up neatly, don’t you?’ Kim asked, playing for time as an idea began to form. She moved the plastic away from her behind and could feel the stems of the flowers beneath her.
Kim pulled her hands as far apart as she could and started to move her joined wrists up and down against the bark. The gnarly old tree might shred her skin in the process, but she couldn’t wait for help to arrive.
‘By my reckoning we have at least twelve minutes until the first check call, and it’s not going to take long to arrange your little accident.’
Kim’s blood ran cold at the absence of emotion attached to the words. If Catherine could arrange a fatal accident and then use the radio to call for help, Graham would be caught and all her loose ends would be neatly tied up.
Catherine’s voice was calm and measured. ‘I suspect you’re going to fall in with Jack or Vera and break your neck when you fall. If not, Graham always carries a knife.’
The coolness of her speech filled Kim with dread. Her death was nothing more than a means to an end. A way for Catherine to facilitate moving on with the rest of her life – and she couldn’t do that with Kim knowing the truth about her.
Kim heard a long sigh come from Catherine.
‘Thank goodness. He’s almost here.’
Kim knew if her hands were still bound by the time Graham reached them, she was dead.
She shook the wet fringe from her eyes and began to rub her wrists faster against the bark.
Eighty-Nine
Tracy felt herself being bounced around in the back of the van.
Minutes ago the ride had quietened, and the van had slowed down. The tyres were hitting bumps in the road, but she was no longer being launched around. The movement was rocking her to and fro.
The thought of sleep was tempting. In her haze, there was the possibility she would wake up not in this nightmare.
But she knew she couldn’t sleep. Perhaps Jemima had slept. Tracy’s mind was clearer than earlier, but her body still felt deadened.
She vaguely remembered stumbling down from the high chair and not having the strength to get back up. He had helped her to her feet and guided her into the van.
And she’d been grateful for his help. A rage like adrenaline shot around her body. Fucking grateful to the man who had abducted her and was now going to kill her.
The very notion evicted any thought of sleep from her mind. These could be the last few minutes of her life. Tracy was determined that if she was going to go it wouldn’t be without a fight.
She had to be ready for any opportunity, ready to do what she could. If nothing else, she was not going to go quietly. Damn it, she had fought her whole bloody life. There had been moments where death had seemed favourable to life, but she had fought the feelings one moment at a time, convincing herself that eventually things would get better.
She had fought the crucifying demons of self-doubt that had never left her and focussed on her dream of journalism, determined that she would not be ruled by her past.
No, Tracy resolved, she had not fought every inch of her life to be snuffed out by some psycho loser now.
The bravado stayed with her for a whole thirty seconds. Right until the car came to a halt.
Ninety
Kim knew the wire was weakening against the gnarly bark.
She had slashed the skin at her wrists in the process, but she could feel the wire beginning to give. Another few seconds and she’d have her hands free.
But she didn’t have a few seconds left, as Catherine yanked her to her feet.
Her left foot slipped on the mud as a clap of thunder sounded overhead. The raindrops were still slow but were much bigger. Round, heavy spots were landing all over her.
In her effort to keep Kim upright Catherine could no longer hold the torch. It tumbled from her hand.
Kim launched herself from the grip and threw herself to the ground. The torch would at least offer her some kind of weapon.
She landed on top of the torch, which dug into her breastbone. Catherine kicked her in the ribs. She coughed but stayed where she was. She would not give up the torch easily.
With her body obscuring the light she had been plunged into total darkness. The damp grass found every inch of her skin through the thin T-shirt. A brittle flower stem dug into her hip and her wrists were on fire, but she could not give up the torch.
A streak of lightning tore across the sky giving them both a clear view of each other. Catherine used the vision to land another kick, which caught her left breast.
Kim groaned out loud as the pain travelled around her torso.
‘Give it up, Inspector,’ Catherine hissed.
Not on your fucking life, Kim thought.
She frantically strained her shoulders pulling at the weakened wire. It was her only chance to stay alive.
The torch was now lodged in her stomach, her arms still tied behind her and her neck craned back away from the sopping mud.
Another kick – this time to her hip. The pain shot straight to her brain and then reverberated back. She was losing track of the pain sites around her body, but she couldn’t think about that now. If she couldn’t get her hands free she was going to die.