Safe as Houses (2 page)

Should she say something or is it better to remain quiet? Not trusting her voice, she opts for the latter.

The man's gaze drops to Anouk. Unexpectedly he bends forward and holds out his hand to her. As Lisa rushes towards him, stumbling, Anouk begins to scream and kick her feet.

A wildness appears in the man's eyes. ‘Stop it! Be quiet! Stop!'

Anouk begins to cry instead and runs towards her mother. Lisa tries to calm her with reassuring words, but she can't prevent her body shaking. If there's any chance to escape, this is it.

Keeping a careful watch on the man, she frees herself as gently as possible from the clasping arms of her daughter. And then she runs.

Pulling Anouk behind her, she runs into the
kitchen, then outside, into the garden. Just when she thinks they might stand a chance, she is grabbed by the hair and thrown to the ground. ‘Run, Anouk, go next door to Aunty Rose!' she shouts.

Anouk stands a way off, hesitating. Their neighbour lives quite far away, and she is not normally allowed to go there. Her face is a giant question mark, full of confusion and unwillingness to leave her mother behind.

The man roughly drags Lisa back into the kitchen and stares at Anouk.

‘Stay there!'

‘Mummy!' Anouk's voice threatens tears.

‘Run away, Anouk! Run as fast as you can!' Lisa shouts before disappearing into the kitchen.

The crunch of Anouk's feet running along the gravel path. For a second Lisa is relieved, then she sees the fist coming towards her face. The ceiling and the kitchen floor swap places in an explosion of pain. The kitchen floor is hard, but the feeling doesn't last for long. What follows is a soft darkness.

When Lisa comes to, she is lying on the sofa and she can hear the television news. A sobbing noise reaches her ears. ‘Mummy, Mummy, wake up. Your nose is bleeding, Mummy.' Anouk gently wipes the blood from her mother's face with her pyjama sleeve.

There is no part of her face that doesn't hurt, but she is immediately alert. ‘Where is he?' she whispers.

Anouk nods towards the kitchen. ‘He's locked all the doors and windows,' she says, her voice shaking. ‘And he's got out all the knives in the kitchen.'

‘The ones from the wall?'

‘And the ones we eat with.'

Lisa closes her eyes with a quiet groan. It seems like the bastard is preparing himself for a longer stay. They have to get out of here. But how to get out of a house in which all the doors and windows are locked?

Her eyes seek out those of her daughter. ‘And upstairs? Has he been upstairs as well?'

‘Everywhere. He was running around.'

It seems that he has made the most of the time she was unconscious. That's not a good sign. Where is the house phone? Its cradle is empty.

‘Get my mobile. It's on the dresser,' she says quietly.

A small headshake from Anouk.

‘He put it in his pocket. And the normal phone too.'

Defeated, Lisa sinks back down on to the sofa and racks her brains, trying to make use of the fact that he doesn't know she has come to and is
able to make a fresh attempt to escape.

The garage. If they can get into the garage, they're safe. Her car is there, and the keys are in the ignition. The door to the garage is in the utility room, and it can't be locked: she lost the key ages ago and never went to the trouble of having the locks replaced. If the man leaves the kitchen, they can slip into the garage.

‘Anouk,' she whispers.

Anouk's face immediately comes so close that their noses touch. ‘Yes?' she whispers back.

‘I'm going to pretend to be asleep so that he'll leave us alone. You mustn't let on that I'm awake, all right?'

‘All right,' Anouk whispers.

‘When he comes out of the kitchen, I want you to tell me, very quietly, OK?'

‘OK.'

Lisa closes her eyes.

‘Mummy?'

‘Shh.'

Anouk stays sitting next to her mother, as quiet as a mouse, and Lisa can hardly control her emotions. Her sweet, big, little, brave daughter. What kind of a bastard do you have to be to do this to a child? Whatever else happens, she'll never allow him to do anything to Anouk, even if she has to scratch his eyes out.

Footsteps on the wooden floor. He's back. For a few seconds nothing. He's probably looking at her. She opens her eyes the tiniest of cracks but can make out only his shape. What kind of expression is he wearing? What is he going to do? Anouk's back against her stomach is familiar and warm, but it also brings out all her maternal instincts and an enormous sense of vulnerability. Then his footsteps move off, towards the dining area, the hall. She feels Anouk make a quarter-turn.

‘Mummy, he's gone.'

In the hall the toilet door opens and shortly afterwards there's a clattering sound in the toilet bowl. Lisa sits up cautiously and puts her feet on the ground.

‘Quick,' she says as quietly as she can.

There is no question of moving at speed. When Lisa tries to stand up, it is as if the walls around them are wobbling. Her hand reaches for Anouk's shoulder, and the child gives her a worried look.

‘I'm all right again now. Come, quickly to the car.'

As quietly and as fast as they can, they tiptoe to the kitchen. The man flushes the toilet in the hall.

Lisa pulls her daughter by the hand through to the utility room and opens the door. It's dark in the garage, but they don't dare to switch on the light. A single gesture is enough to get Anouk into the car, and Lisa feels her way to the garage door. The heavy door begins to move with squeaks and scrapes, and after a further shove it slides open with a crash. Sunlight and fresh air stream in. Then a pair of boots appears in her field of vision,
followed by a torn pair of jeans, and a hand holding a large knife.

It's only a few steps to her car. Lisa turns and runs to it. She pulls open the door, drops into her seat and sees in a single glance that the keys are no longer in the ignition. She jumps out of the car again, swearing. It is as though the presence of the man has filled up all the space and taken all the oxygen.

‘Mummy!'

‘Get out, out!' Lisa screams as she runs to the workbench at the back of the garage. She expects to be grabbed at any moment, but the only thing she hears is the scrape of the door as the garage is returned to the dark. In blind haste her fingers reach for the workbench. She finds a tool box and rummages around in it until she feels the heavy weight of a hammer. She spins around, looking for both the man and her daughter, but can see neither of them in the darkness.

‘Anouk!'

All of a sudden the strip lighting comes on, blinking hesitantly and then resolutely bathing the garage in its violent glare. The man is on the left of the car; Anouk is in the backseat, sliding hurriedly across to the opposite side and tugging helplessly at the child lock.

Without wasting a second, Lisa opens the car
door and with the same fast energy holds the hammer aloft.

‘Come near us and I'll batter you to death, I swear it!' she cries with a catch in her voice.

The man walks around and forces Anouk out and backwards, towards the darkest part of the garage, where they have no chance of escape.

Lisa darts in front of Anouk to protect her and swings . . .

‘Drop it, bitch!' The man holds the knife poised and makes a stab at Lisa.

The hammer swings down and a scream suggests a hit, but when Lisa goes to attack again she feels a shooting pain in her hand. Warm fluid drenches the sleeve of her sweater before she realises in shock and disbelief that it is blood. The next moment a large hand clamps hold of her arm and twists it behind her back until she drops the hammer.

Before she knows it, Lisa is lying on the cold concrete floor and a knife is pressed against her throat. Behind her, she can hear Anouk calling, but Lisa finds herself remarkably calm. It occurs to her that she is no match for her attacker. With a weak child and a wounded hand, she is doubly handicapped, and if she continues to resist she'll be risking not only her own life but also Anouk's.

Her eyes seek out those of her attacker and she forces herself to keep looking at him.

‘Please, don't,' she says with difficulty. ‘I'll do what you want, but don't kill us.'

He hovers right over her, panting from the effort, an almost hysterical look in his eyes. The knife cuts into her skin.

‘Please,' Lisa whispers. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘Shut it! Stand up!' The man pulls Lisa up and drags her out of the garage. Anouk runs behind them, like a nervous fawn that wants to stay close to its mother. Moaning in pain, Lisa allows herself to be shoved into the utility room, through the kitchen, and back to the sitting room, where she is thrown on to the sofa. Blood drips on to the wooden floor. The television is still on.

Anouk crawls up against her, and Lisa wraps her good arm around her. As if they've agreed on a strategy beforehand, neither looks up; they keep their eyes fixed on the trail of blood on the floor. The man plants himself in front of them with his hands on his hips. He stays like that for a time, watching them, until Anouk begins to sob. He sinks down on to the edge of the coffee table, the bloody knife still in his hand.

‘Well,' he says calmly. ‘Now we are going to agree on a few rules.'

At that moment the television programme is interrupted by a news bulletin.

ESCAPED CRIMINAL COMMITS MURDER

For the third time in recent months a dangerous criminal has escaped in the Netherlands. The man disappeared while on accompanied day-release from a psychiatric prison on Sunday afternoon
.

The criminal in question is 43-year-old Mick Kreuger, who was convicted of several counts of murder just two years ago. The police have launched a nation-wide manhunt, but as yet they have no leads on the suspect's whereabouts. He is highly dangerous, having already taken one life in the course of his escape, and should not be approached by members of the public under any circumstances
.

All three watch the announcement: Anouk with wide eyes that flick from the television screen to
the man, Lisa with a dizzy feeling, Mick Kreuger tense with concentration. Lisa compares the image on the television to the intruder. This can't be real. This can't be happening to her, in her own home. Her breathing accelerates and her mouth becomes dry, but somehow she manages to keep a handle on her emotions.

Kreuger sits down on the sofa, and when the original programme resumes he zaps through the channels to other news coverage. On RTL4 there's an extra news piece about the murder victim, who was beaten around the head with a heavy object. According to a witness, the suspect fit Mick Kreuger's description.

The screen fills with the same photo of a tall, skinny man with black, shaven hair and dark eyes that peer out without a trace of emotion.

Lisa feels her limbs growing cold; the chill reaches her fingertips. Her hand throbs painfully and is still bleeding. She has taken off a sock to bind the wound, but she knows that what she really needs is a bandage. She presses her thumb and fingers to the wound to keep it as closed as possible and holds her arm up high.

In the meantime she tries to think. Now that she's sitting on the sofa as meek as a lamb, Mick Kreuger is paying little attention to her, and she wants to keep it that way.

She once saw a programme about armed attackers. The criminal psychologist who was interviewed advised viewers to just go along with everything if they were threatened. The attacker would be as tense and nervous as you were, and a cornered rat can behave unpredictably. If you aren't able to defend yourself, it's better to become passive and not make the situation any worse.

Lisa wonders if the criminal psychologist was speaking from personal experience or whether it was purely theoretical knowledge taken from one of her textbooks. Still, she could see the sense in it. She gives Kreuger a cautious glance. He's sitting on the other sofa, his body tense. Suddenly he jumps up and launches into a volley of swearing that causes Lisa to cringe.

Kreuger races around the room madly, holding the knife. Lisa doesn't know how she'd found the courage to try to escape. He would have cut their throats without a second thought. He might still do that. He's said so little all this time that it's strange – he's clearly not right in the head.

The best thing to do is to stay calm until help arrives. The man has escaped from a psychiatric hospital; he can't have disappeared without leaving some kind of trace. The police are bound turn up soon. Until then she must keep to her sole priority: to protect herself and Anouk.

She lays a hand on her daughter's forehead. She feels warm. Warmer than she was this morning. She could give her a puff on her Ventolin. But the inhaler is upstairs.

Kreuger is sitting on the edge of the sofa, staring ahead blankly. He taps the knife on the palm of his hand, tap, tap, tap.

A fit of coughing from Anouk breaks the silence, and Lisa touches her lightly on the back until it stops.

‘What's up with her?' It's the first time Kreuger's spoken in a normal tone of voice, though his expression is still hostile.

‘She's got asthmatic bronchitis,' Lisa says, trying to keep her voice even.

‘Does she need medicine?'

‘She could do with her inhaler, but it's upstairs.'

There's a silence as Kreuger observes her. ‘Go and get it.'

Gratitude floods through her, and the relief is apparent in Lisa's voice as she turns to her daughter, ‘Mummy's going to get your Ventolin. I'll be right back.'

Anouk gives Kreuger a suspicious glare.

‘He won't hurt you,' Lisa says gently. ‘I'll only be a second.'

Anouk's eyes beg her to stay, but a new fit of coughing takes over.

Lisa runs upstairs to Anouk's bedroom. There's a telephone extension here, but her intuition tells her that this is a test. If she takes the phone from its cradle, Kreuger might make Anouk pay the price. He's probably listening right now on the downstairs phone, waiting for the click to give her away.