Read Online The Forgotten Holocaust (Ben Hope, Book 10) by Scott Mariani - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Scott Mariani
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made her jump. Who would be calling her at this time of night? She’d hesitated, shaking, then picked up the handset.
‘Hello?’
No reply. The caller had just hung up without a word.
Erin had dialled to check their number, but it had been withheld. It could have been anything. It could have been a wrong number.
Or it could have been
them
.
What if they’d discovered the things she’d had to leave behind in the cabin? What if there was something among them to identify her? Or else, what if Angela had innocently mentioned Erin’s visit to the cabin to her husband? Or what if Joe, the driver, had said something? There were any number of ways that her presence there could be found out.
They know where I live
, she’d thought.
And that was them calling. Now they know I’m home
.
Convinced that it wasn’t safe to stay put another minute, she’d acted fast. The video evidence wasn’t great, but nonetheless she’d quickly burned it onto two blank DVDs. Like Daddy had said:
always have a backup
. Then she’d hurried upstairs to pull on an old pair of running shoes from her wardrobe. Stuffed a few more things into her backpack. Unlocked the steel ammo cabinet under her bed, taken out all three of the ready-loaded Springfield magazines she kept in there, and dropped them into the zippered side pocket of her backpack together with the pistol itself. There was a can of Mace in a bedside drawer, put there as a last defensive resort in case of a home invasion when she didn’t have her gun to hand. She tossed the Mace in the pack, too. Now she was ready.
Outside, the sleeping street had been empty. No suspicious-looking cars were parked nearby, no sinister watchers spying on the house. Hobbling slightly on her tender feet, she’d left the house at an awkward jog that quickly became a run.
And she hadn’t been back there since.
Now here she was holed up in this motel, two nights later and eleven miles outside the city, unable to sleep, barely venturing outside except when hunger drove her the quarter-mile to the greasy diner the other side of the highway. She was still racking her brains night and day as to how to deal with what she’d witnessed, and going nowhere.
All she knew was that she daren’t return home right now. There was nobody else she could go to, either. Darryl, her ex? Forget it. Her friends? How could she burden them with this? Her mother? No chance. Now she’d hooked up with her new man – was that the fourth since Daddy died, or the fifth? – she spent her days in the trailer they called home, steadily obliterating what was left of her brains with cheap liquor. They hardly even spoke any more, and Erin was damned if she was going to turn up there looking for help or shelter.
Maybe she should just take off. Hit the road in Daddy’s old car and keep going, get as far away from Oklahoma as she could and find a place to begin again.
It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to start a whole new life.
Chapter Ten
After a quick check, the doctor determined that Ben was in a fit state to receive the visitors. The police detectives sat either side of the bed and a screen was pulled around the three of them to serve as a flimsy shield against the curiosity of the old guys on the ward.
The male officer, who introduced himself as Detective Inspector Healy, was a nervous, sallow little man in his fifties, with eyes that wouldn’t stay still and never seemed to blink. Ben took an instant dislike to him, but there was nothing so unusual about that. His female sidekick, Detective Sergeant Nash, was about twenty years younger and looked a little more human.
Ben knew why she was there. Send a woman officer in for the gentle touch when there’s bad news to break. Just in case the weaker ones break down.
‘Let’s have it,’ he said to them before they could state the nature of their visit. ‘Was she killed or was she kidnapped?’
‘Why would you think she’d been kidnapped?’ Healy said with
‘Hello?’
No reply. The caller had just hung up without a word.
Erin had dialled to check their number, but it had been withheld. It could have been anything. It could have been a wrong number.
Or it could have been
them
.
What if they’d discovered the things she’d had to leave behind in the cabin? What if there was something among them to identify her? Or else, what if Angela had innocently mentioned Erin’s visit to the cabin to her husband? Or what if Joe, the driver, had said something? There were any number of ways that her presence there could be found out.
They know where I live
, she’d thought.
And that was them calling. Now they know I’m home
.
Convinced that it wasn’t safe to stay put another minute, she’d acted fast. The video evidence wasn’t great, but nonetheless she’d quickly burned it onto two blank DVDs. Like Daddy had said:
always have a backup
. Then she’d hurried upstairs to pull on an old pair of running shoes from her wardrobe. Stuffed a few more things into her backpack. Unlocked the steel ammo cabinet under her bed, taken out all three of the ready-loaded Springfield magazines she kept in there, and dropped them into the zippered side pocket of her backpack together with the pistol itself. There was a can of Mace in a bedside drawer, put there as a last defensive resort in case of a home invasion when she didn’t have her gun to hand. She tossed the Mace in the pack, too. Now she was ready.
Outside, the sleeping street had been empty. No suspicious-looking cars were parked nearby, no sinister watchers spying on the house. Hobbling slightly on her tender feet, she’d left the house at an awkward jog that quickly became a run.
And she hadn’t been back there since.
Now here she was holed up in this motel, two nights later and eleven miles outside the city, unable to sleep, barely venturing outside except when hunger drove her the quarter-mile to the greasy diner the other side of the highway. She was still racking her brains night and day as to how to deal with what she’d witnessed, and going nowhere.
All she knew was that she daren’t return home right now. There was nobody else she could go to, either. Darryl, her ex? Forget it. Her friends? How could she burden them with this? Her mother? No chance. Now she’d hooked up with her new man – was that the fourth since Daddy died, or the fifth? – she spent her days in the trailer they called home, steadily obliterating what was left of her brains with cheap liquor. They hardly even spoke any more, and Erin was damned if she was going to turn up there looking for help or shelter.
Maybe she should just take off. Hit the road in Daddy’s old car and keep going, get as far away from Oklahoma as she could and find a place to begin again.
It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to start a whole new life.
Chapter Ten
After a quick check, the doctor determined that Ben was in a fit state to receive the visitors. The police detectives sat either side of the bed and a screen was pulled around the three of them to serve as a flimsy shield against the curiosity of the old guys on the ward.
The male officer, who introduced himself as Detective Inspector Healy, was a nervous, sallow little man in his fifties, with eyes that wouldn’t stay still and never seemed to blink. Ben took an instant dislike to him, but there was nothing so unusual about that. His female sidekick, Detective Sergeant Nash, was about twenty years younger and looked a little more human.
Ben knew why she was there. Send a woman officer in for the gentle touch when there’s bad news to break. Just in case the weaker ones break down.
‘Let’s have it,’ he said to them before they could state the nature of their visit. ‘Was she killed or was she kidnapped?’
‘Why would you think she’d been kidnapped?’ Healy said with
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