Timothy Branch shrugged, saying honestly, ‘A couple of days. The fact that no one can explain her disappearance is not a good sign, to be honest. But, saying that, you know she is being held by someone. Your wife had that letter, it was hand delivered. So that’s a good thing, Michael.’
Michael Flynn shook his handsome head in a gesture of denial. ‘But that’s just it, though. Anyone could have her, couldn’t they?’
Chapter One Hundred
and Seventeen
Jessie woke to see the man standing over her. Up close he looked decidedly odd; there was no emotion on his face, nothing to say he even registered her presence. It was unnerving. He had pale grey eyes, and his skin was a dirty yellow. His mouth was partly open, and she could see his teeth – which were rotten – and smell his awful breath. She felt her stomach heaving; he actually made her feel physically sick. The stench was overpowering, a sickly sweetness of old food and long-neglected cavities. It was putrid.
He had not given her any food for over thirty-six hours, all he had given her was a bottle of water, which she still suspected was drugged. She hadn’t seen him this close to her before and she was frightened of him. He looked crazy, like people you saw on the streets and knew at a glance were dangerous so you avoided eye contact and passed as fast as possible.
She just wanted to go home, get away from him, from here. She wanted to see her mum, her little boy – for the first time in years, she wanted her family around her.
The man licked his lips slowly, deliberately. Jessie knew he was taking some kind of chemical, because he looked stoned. His eyes didn’t focus properly and over the course of the last few days he had seemed to be unravelling more and more. He smiled at her suddenly and as he laughed he started to cough, and the stench from his breath hit her directly in her face, spraying her skin with droplets of his saliva. It took all her willpower not to vomit everywhere.
He looked at her for long moments, before saying flatly, ‘You must be starving. Are you starving?’
She nodded, wondering what this was leading to. She didn’t shout at him or demand anything from him – she was too weak, too scared of him. He knew that – she had felt the change in him the last few days. It seemed the weaker she became, the stronger he felt. She had expected her father to have rescued her by now, but he hadn’t. She was so worried that he wasn’t bothered about her, had left her to her own devices. Or, worse still, that her parents had heard nothing from this man, and just assumed she was on the missing list. It wouldn’t be the first time she had disappeared without telling anyone her whereabouts.
The man told her nothing. He rarely even spoke to her. He just watched her.
He stepped away from her and, taking out a packet of cigarettes, he lit one for himself. Then, almost as an afterthought, he offered the packet to her.
She took the pack of Lambert & Butler from him, pleased to have a distraction. Taking one out, she pulled herself upright on the mattress, and then he lit her cigarette with his lighter. His actions were very old-fashioned; he even cupped the lighter in his hand to ensure it didn’t go out.
She pulled on the cigarette deeply and felt light-headed – it was the first cigarette she’d had in ages.
‘Thank you. I appreciate this.’
He bowed, and she knew he was mocking her. She took another few puffs on the cigarette, feeling the nicotine as it hit her brain, enjoying it because it seemed to wake her up, break through the malaise that she was feeling constantly.
‘My father, does he know you’ve got me? He will pay you a lot of money if you ask him to. Have you asked him for anything? What does he know?’
The man didn’t answer; he just stared at her, as if he couldn’t hear her. It was a very nerve-racking experience.
He dropped his cigarette on to the floor and put it out, slowly grinding it under his foot into the concrete floor. Then he shook his head, smiling at her as if it was a great joke. ‘No, of course I haven’t contacted him. Why on earth would I do that?’
His voice was almost conversational as though he expected her to have an answer for him. He was even looking at her quizzically. She felt the cold hand of fear clutching at her heart. None of this made any sense. Why had this man taken her?
‘But surely money is what this is about? My father will pay for me, my mum will see to that. I mean, why else would you even bring me here in the first place? It doesn’t make any fucking sense.’