Cry for Help (28 page)

'He killed Julie,' I said. 'Kidnapped Tori.'

The slut
, I thought.
The mad one
.

We were approaching the far edge of the field now. Ahead of us, the path wound its way between two thick bunches of trees. There were more elaborate graves in here, standing by the side of the path like silent, weather-worn sentries. It grew dark as we entered.

Rob gave me the note back.

'Why, though? Why is he doing this to you?'

I stopped. 'I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me.'

'But - what?' He stared at me. Suddenly nervous.

I didn't say anything.

'You're looking at me funny, Dave. What's going on?'

'Like I said, Rob. You tell me.'

'What . . . you think this is something to do with me?' He shook his head. 'Fuck you. After I've just lied to the police, and come out here to meet you? What the hell is wrong with you?'

'Thom Stanley,' I said.

'What?'

'I've spoken to him.'

'And what?'

'Someone called him on Thursday morning,' I said. 'A man. He gave him money - bribed him to use Tori's name in his show.'

'Well, it wasn't fucking me.'

'Who was it, then? Who else knew about Julie and Emma, or how I felt about Tori? And that I was going to be there in the theatre that night?'

'I don't know, but it wasn't me.' The indignation seemed to fall away from him. He looked wounded. Betrayed. 'Why would I do that?'

I didn't reply. I was searching his expression for any sign that this was an act, and I couldn't see a single one.

He shook his head: 'We've been best friends for ten fucking years. We've always looked out for each other. Why would I do . . . this to you?'

'I don't know.'

It wasn't Rob.

How could I ever have believed it was?

Despair bloomed inside. Suddenly, everything caught up with me, and it was all too much. Without thinking about it, I found myself crouching, then leaning back and sitting down on the ground. I put my face in my hands and couldn't look at him.

'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just couldn't think of any other explanation. '

He didn't say anything.

'I just want all this to go away.'

The silence panned out for a moment. Then I felt his hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see that he'd crouched down beside me. His voice was gentle.

'You have to go to the police.'

'I can't, can I?'

'Because of the note? Jesus Christ. Don't you think he's going to kill her anyway? Whatever you do?'

'I don't know.'

'You've got to, Dave.'

'No.' I was adamant, needing him to understand. 'It doesn't matter what he does. It only matters what I do.'

'But--'

'I couldn't handle it if I could have saved her.'

Rob was silent for a moment, studying me, then he sighed and sat back a little. After a few more seconds, he opened his mouth, about to say something.

And then a mobile started ringing.

It was the one the killer had given me last night. The noise seemed to bring me together again - it slapped me out of my self-pity. I looked at Rob and held my finger up to my lips, then got to my feet and picked the phone out of my pocket.

'Yeah?' I said.

'Do you want to save her?' the man said.

'Yes.'

'Then you just have to do what I tell you.'

'Which is?'

I could hear him breathing: a heavy sound, as though he could barely contain the anger he felt towards me. When he spoke next, his voice was full of the same contempt as last night.

'What you're used to doing,' he said. 'Nothing. I've made it easy for you, you see? All you have to do is nothing, and she'll live. Say thank you.'

'I don't understand.'

'Say thank you,' he shouted.

'Thank you.'

There was a second or two of silence as he contained himself. Then, speaking very deliberately, he said: 'In a few minutes, I'll be visiting Sarah's house. To save Tori, all you have to do is nothing at all.'

A flash of panic. 'Sarah?' I said. 'Wait--'

And then he hung up.

I took off so quickly - without a word - that there was no chance of Rob keeping up with me. My teeth clenched hard enough to make my jaw ache, and stars were gathering in my vision. Everything was going. My brain felt like it was about to crash and shut down.

And when I got to my car, I let it all go. I started pounding my fists against the steering wheel. Over and over. It was like I was pushed out of my body by the force of the emotions. This was what it must feel like to be possessed. The noise I could hear sounded like someone trying to scream through gritted teeth, and even though I knew it was me I had no control over it whatsoever.

Calm down.

Think rationally.

Rationally? What was the fucking use in that?

But I stopped punching the steering wheel, at least - I rested my elbows on it instead, and tried to think of a way through this. I had no idea what I was going to do. If I didn't stop it happening, this man was going after Sarah; if I did - even if I stopped him - he might not tell anyone where Tori was until it was too late.

He might not anyway.

I paused for a moment. If I did nothing, they both might die. If I went to Sarah's, I had a chance of saving her. Maybe I could stop this man. And maybe he would tell the police where Tori was. But whatever the result, I couldn't let Sarah, or anyone, get hurt. Leaving Emma lying there was one thing, but this was something I could actually prevent.

Do it.

I pulled out the phone again. My first instinct was to call her - but then I realised I didn't know her number. It was stored in my mobile, and God only knew where that was by now.

With the police, hopefully.

So call them instead. Then head over there.

But before I could do anything else, a shadow fell over me. I looked up and around, and then suddenly the driver's door was being pulled open. My mind had time to think police - before I was dragged out of the car, two huge fists gripping my coat. My arm was rammed into the doorframe and the mobile tumbled out of my hand and fell into the gutter.

For a second, I was face to face with someone, then I was whirled around and a thick arm caught me in a chokehold.

'We've got some talking to do, Dave.'

Shit.

The world tilted and I felt myself being marched back down the street in a headlock so tight I could hardly breathe. I saw the mobile in the road, disappearing away behind me . . . and everything was properly starring over now, not just with anger this time. I stumbled, got dragged--

'Choc, wait--'

'Too late for that.'

I managed to wrench myself out of the grip, and threw a wild punch that landed and did nothing. Whoever had been holding me was the size of a small mountain; my fist glanced off, and then the side of my face exploded like a flashbulb. A second later my thigh muscle exploded too, and I realised my face was against the pavement. How had that happened?

'Much too fucking late.'

And then they were on me properly.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Saturday 3rd September

'Where are we going?' I said.

'Shut up.'

I was sandwiched in the back of a car between the two burliest members of Choc's crew. They were taking me somewhere; I had no idea where. The scenery outside was flashing past: a tree, a building. All I knew was that with each second, any choice or decision I'd been able to make was disappearing behind me. I seemed to have left half my head back there, too. It was only slowly catching up and reattaching itself.

'Need to go back.'

'Shut the fuck up.'

We'd been in the car and driving for a minute before I'd recovered enough to realise what was happening. Even now, I couldn't remember everything; there were the punches and kicks at the road-side - fists and feet coming in at me from all angles - and then I was just . . . here. I'd genuinely thought they were going to kill me right there on the street, but they'd only been softening me up: knocking the argument out of me.

The pain had begun to settle in properly now. Aches in my arms and ribs. My mouth was swollen and bleeding. The side of my face was numb.

'You've got to listen--'

'I'm warning you: shut your fucking mouth now.'

I thought about it for a second, then lashed out, whipping my elbow up and back into the face of the guy to my right.

It hit, but I was obviously a lot slower than the guys he was used to handling, and he managed to deflect the blow a little. The next thing I knew, my face was pressed straight in my knees, and a hand like a steel pincer was holding the back of my neck. Then a huge, heavy fist slammed into my side, so hard I couldn't breathe properly, never mind argue or fight back. The flash of agony burned bright and intense, and then ripples of pain spread out through my body, as though the punch had been a rock dropped into water. I couldn't even move to curl up. Every time I tried, his fingers closed around the back of my neck and pinned me even harder.

Someone must have seen them dragging you into the car.

Whatever happened, they couldn't kill me.

But then, Eddie Berries had probably told himself that.

I deliberately tried not to think of anything, and just listened to the car instead: the whirr and hum of the tyres moving quickly over smooth tarmac; the occasional jolt of the suspension. And then the whine and squeak as the driver turned the windscreen wipers on. It had started to rain again.

'Choc, please--'

'Shut up. You can talk in a minute. And you will.'

We drove a little bit further, and then I felt the car slowing down, and then a bump as we went up some kind of ramp. The car swung around and came to a halt, and then I heard the crick of a handbrake.

'Nobody around?'

'Shouldn't be. Can't see anyone.'

'Okay. Get him out.'

The grip on my neck was released and the doors crunched open to either side. Someone grabbed fistfuls of the back of my coat and half-carried, half-threw me out onto the ground. I landed on my hands and knees, rain spitting down around me, and then was hoisted to my feet.

We were parked in a small, deserted area at the top of some kind of recycling centre. Below me, beyond flaky railings, there was a row of enormous skips filled with debris: bin bags and old chairs and broken bits of wood. To one side, several large bottle banks were clustered together. I heard something rattle across the tarmac below, and felt the rain on me, the wind pushing.

Choc was standing directly in front, nodding to himself. The energy I could sense inside him was frightening. It wasn't even like when I'd seen him with Eddie. There was anger then, but it had felt slightly manufactured, whereas now he looked like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. Like the anger was something he'd cultivated and was using to sustain himself. His eyes were hollow and empty.

'Choc--'

He reached into his jacket and produced a gun. I wanted to flinch, but his guys were holding me too tight, and so my heart just flipped inside me. Again and again.

The words came out so quickly they fell over each other: 'I don't know what you're thinking - whatever it is, it's a mistake.'

He ignored me, staring straight into my eyes. 'Tell me what the fuck is going on.'

'I don't know--'

He pointed the gun straight at my face.

Out of instinct, I squinted and tried to turn away. His guys gripped me harder, holding me in place. The barrel gestured to one side, then back again.

'Move him over to the barrier,' Choc said.

I fought against them but had no chance. You don't fuck with me or my friends, I remembered. Don't make me worry. Was this about Eddie?

'I never told anyone,' I said. 'I'm not fucking stupid. I'd never have--'

'Lean him.'

I felt the railings against the small of my back, as they held me off balance. Choc closed one eye and pointed the gun at my head. His finger moved to the trigger. I screwed my eyes shut.

'One chance only,' he said. 'Where is she?'

Tori.

'I don't know! I swear to fucking God. It's not me.'

I ran out of things to say, and so I stopped and waited, expecting the shot at any second. Would I even have time to feel it, or would everything just stop? It didn't make sense to imagine it, like trying to remember what you were thinking before you were born. I would just stop--

'All right,' Choc said. 'Open your eyes.'

After a second, I did. He was holding the gun loosely down by his side now, looking off into the distance. The guys that were holding me pulled me forward away from the railings, and then let go of me. It took me a second to appreciate the fact I wasn't dead. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might trip up - maybe stop altogether, and I'd just die of fucking fright.

'I believe you,' he said.

I bent down and leaned on my knees.

'Deep breaths.' He patted me on the back.

'She's been kidnapped,' I said. 'By that guy on the news.'

'Yeah, I know.' He rolled his shoulders. 'Come on, man. Stand the fuck up.'

I took another couple of breaths, then risked it.

It seemed more or less okay.

'I got a text from her,' Choc said. 'The police were there and they were interested in that. Too fucking interested. And then later on, she was all over the TV.'

'I know.'

'We've been keeping a watch on your office all day. We followed that fat guy you work with.'

'Rob.'

'Yeah, we followed that guy. The police are at your house and your office, and there's one of them who was keen on you yesterday morning when they showed up. Obvious conclusion is, they think it's you.'

I nodded. 'It isn't, though.'

'Yeah. I believe you now. If I didn't, you'd be in the skip. So the question is, why aren't the police as smart as me right now? Aside from the usual reasons.'

'I got a text from her too, and I went round to check she was okay. I found a note. The guy who's taken her has been making me do things. He said if I told the police, he'd kill Tori. He's been making it look as though it was me.' I thought about Emma again. 'Some of the things he's made me do . . .'