guessed she’d been out for a while, but couldn’t say how long. Rachel got unsteadily to her feet and followed the wall back to the mattress. There were no more doors.
She slid down the wall and pressed herself into the corner, hugged her knees in tight and turned herself into a ball. She barely noticed the tears streaming down her face. This situation was as messed up as it got. She was going to die. She was certain of it. That wasn’t what scared her the most, though. What terrified her more than anything was the fact that she was still alive.
She’d seen the way Adam’s smile changed last night. One second it had been friendly and full of humour. I’m going to be your best friend , that smile had promised. I’m going to take you away from your sorry excuse for a life and transport you into the sort of life you always dreamt of, the sort of life you always felt you deserved. In a beat his smile had changed to that predator’s smile. Rachel’s stomach tightened and she thought she was going to be sick again. Her legs and arms turned to water and the tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She wondered if Jamie had called the police yet. That thought was followed swiftly by another, one that brought a fresh wave of tears.
Had he even noticed she was gone?
Had anyone noticed?
13
The driveway was a minefield of potholes, but Templeton didn’t seem to notice. She drove across them as though they didn’t exist, the BMW’s suspension complaining with every bump and jolt. She pulled into a walled courtyard and skidded to a halt, kicking up a spray of gravel that rattled against the underside of the car.
Dunscombe House was centuries old, older than America. Over the years new bits had been added here and there. Different styles, different periods, different architects. The building had an air of randomness, and a sense that it had been dislocated from time. It was big enough to be classed as a manor house, but nowhere near big enough to be a stately home.
We got out of the car and walked to the main entrance side by side. Templeton pressed the buzzer then took a step back and peered into the lens of the security camera. There was a look on her face like she was daring whoever was on the other end to deny us entry. Two seconds passed, three. The door clicked, the lock released, and Templeton strode in like she owned the place. Shoulders square, back straight, hips swinging. From behind, those tight jeans looked fantastic.
A Christmas tree opposite the reception desk was ten feet tall and totally over the top. It had dozens of glittering ornaments and baubles, hundreds of tiny white lights, yards upon yards of tinsel, and a large silver star on top. Templeton marched straight up to the reception desk and showed her ID.
‘We’re here to see Sarah Flight,’ she said.
The receptionist looked surprised.
‘Is there a problem?’ I asked.
The receptionist shook her head. ‘No, not at all. It’s just that Sarah doesn’t get many visitors.’
‘When you say not many, how many are we talking about?’
‘Her mother visits every morning without fail. You’ve just missed her.’
‘Anyone else?’
A shake of the head.
‘What about her husband?’
The receptionist hesitated. She glanced left then right, a classic tell for someone with a secret to share.
‘He’s never visited, has he?’ I said.
‘Not once.’
‘Where will we find Sarah?’
‘She’s in the day room.’ The receptionist pointed to a set of double doors opposite a wide old-fashioned staircase.
The day room was large and churchlike. Wood panelling, parquet flooring and a high vaulted ceiling. Someone had gone to town with the Christmas decorations, and there had to be a mile of tinsel and banners and strings of silver bells. The Christmas tree in front of the large fireplace wasn’t as big as the one in reception, but it was still impressive. It was decorated in a similar style, probably by the same person.
The room stank of
She slid down the wall and pressed herself into the corner, hugged her knees in tight and turned herself into a ball. She barely noticed the tears streaming down her face. This situation was as messed up as it got. She was going to die. She was certain of it. That wasn’t what scared her the most, though. What terrified her more than anything was the fact that she was still alive.
She’d seen the way Adam’s smile changed last night. One second it had been friendly and full of humour. I’m going to be your best friend , that smile had promised. I’m going to take you away from your sorry excuse for a life and transport you into the sort of life you always dreamt of, the sort of life you always felt you deserved. In a beat his smile had changed to that predator’s smile. Rachel’s stomach tightened and she thought she was going to be sick again. Her legs and arms turned to water and the tears flowed freely down her cheeks. She wondered if Jamie had called the police yet. That thought was followed swiftly by another, one that brought a fresh wave of tears.
Had he even noticed she was gone?
Had anyone noticed?
13
The driveway was a minefield of potholes, but Templeton didn’t seem to notice. She drove across them as though they didn’t exist, the BMW’s suspension complaining with every bump and jolt. She pulled into a walled courtyard and skidded to a halt, kicking up a spray of gravel that rattled against the underside of the car.
Dunscombe House was centuries old, older than America. Over the years new bits had been added here and there. Different styles, different periods, different architects. The building had an air of randomness, and a sense that it had been dislocated from time. It was big enough to be classed as a manor house, but nowhere near big enough to be a stately home.
We got out of the car and walked to the main entrance side by side. Templeton pressed the buzzer then took a step back and peered into the lens of the security camera. There was a look on her face like she was daring whoever was on the other end to deny us entry. Two seconds passed, three. The door clicked, the lock released, and Templeton strode in like she owned the place. Shoulders square, back straight, hips swinging. From behind, those tight jeans looked fantastic.
A Christmas tree opposite the reception desk was ten feet tall and totally over the top. It had dozens of glittering ornaments and baubles, hundreds of tiny white lights, yards upon yards of tinsel, and a large silver star on top. Templeton marched straight up to the reception desk and showed her ID.
‘We’re here to see Sarah Flight,’ she said.
The receptionist looked surprised.
‘Is there a problem?’ I asked.
The receptionist shook her head. ‘No, not at all. It’s just that Sarah doesn’t get many visitors.’
‘When you say not many, how many are we talking about?’
‘Her mother visits every morning without fail. You’ve just missed her.’
‘Anyone else?’
A shake of the head.
‘What about her husband?’
The receptionist hesitated. She glanced left then right, a classic tell for someone with a secret to share.
‘He’s never visited, has he?’ I said.
‘Not once.’
‘Where will we find Sarah?’
‘She’s in the day room.’ The receptionist pointed to a set of double doors opposite a wide old-fashioned staircase.
The day room was large and churchlike. Wood panelling, parquet flooring and a high vaulted ceiling. Someone had gone to town with the Christmas decorations, and there had to be a mile of tinsel and banners and strings of silver bells. The Christmas tree in front of the large fireplace wasn’t as big as the one in reception, but it was still impressive. It was decorated in a similar style, probably by the same person.
The room stank of
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