Page 57 of The Therapist
‘I don’t…don’t…’ stutters Mike, looking around him. He has not anticipated this.
Part of him hopes that was it, that there will be no more screaming, but even as he thinks this, he knows it won’t be the case.
‘Help, help me!’ a woman’s voice screams and then she screams again and again, repeating her entreaty.
And in a split second, everyone moves.
Mike turns, running towards the kitchen and the back of the house. The screaming seems to be coming from outside, fromthe garden shed, from his garden shed where only he goes. It’s filled with crap and spiderwebs and not somewhere that anyone but him, on a summer’s day and in need of a lawnmower, has any interest in.
He can feel Lana and Ben following him.
He opens the kitchen door that leads to the back garden, a cold spring wind hitting him in the face, and hears again, ‘Help, help me.’ He runs out into the garden, towards the shed, where the door is padlocked from the outside.
‘Help me!’ she screams again, and Mike’s whole body is suddenly covered in sweat despite the temperature. Where is she? Is it her? What the hell is going on?
He grabs the lock, struggling to open it; in his panic, he’s forgotten the combination. The scream sounded so desperate, so real.
Lana is right behind him. ‘Open it,’ she yells, ‘open it.’
Trust me,he was told on the phone, but he can’t trust any of what is happening now. Why is Sandy screaming for help? Why? Whatever game is being played has turned on him again.
‘I’m trying,’ he yells back. ‘I’m trying.’ The whole situation is completely out of control.
Her hand emerges from her bag. ‘Open it now,’ she demands and he turns to look at her. She’s holding a small handgun, something he’s never actually seen in real life.
‘Open it,’ she says again, her voice filled with menace.
This is not happening,he thinks as he fumbles with the combination lock, searching his mind for the numbers that have, for the moment, completely disappeared.
TWENTY-SIX
Lana
My heart is racing. It’s obviously Sandy in the shed; clearly she’s been locked up here for the last few days and somehow been coerced into making a call to the police. Or is that what I’m supposed to think? The voice didn’t sound like it was coming from inside the shed but rather somewhere in the garden. I have no idea what’s going on and right now I am more confused than ever. What if I’m wrong about everything, and what I thought I understood only hours ago is wrong?
Mike is fumbling with the lock. Is he trying to open it or trying to stop us getting in there?
I hold the gun out towards Mike, my hand trembling even though I’m trying to hold it steady.
Glancing frantically around, I look for Ben because I want to give him the gun. He’s the one who knows what to do with it. But he’s not in the garden. He’s probably gone to look after the kids. That’s good – somebody should. But I wish I’d gone, I wish I had gone to them and Ben was here holding the gun.
‘Are you mad?’ whispers Mike as he twists the dial on the lock. ‘Don’t point that at me. It could go off.’
The sound of scraping metal makes me startle and turn and I look back at the house to see Ben standing by an upstairs window that looks out onto the garden. He’s opened the window and he can hear and see everything that’s going on. He doesn’t look worried or even concerned. He’s just standing there, statue-still, staring down at me and Mike.
‘You need to get her out of there and let her go,’ I say loudly.
‘She’s not…I don’t know how she…’ He keeps turning the dial. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘You’re lying,’ I yell at him. He shakes his head.
Sandy is silent now. ‘Sandy, Sandy,’ I call, ‘I’m here, it’s Lana and I’m coming to help you. We’re here to help you. Are you okay?’ I bang on a cold tin wall, feeling its reverberation through my hand.
But there is no sound from inside the shed and only the sound of the rushing spring wind is in the garden.
‘Sandy, Sandy, can you hear me?’ I pound on the tin wall again. But all is silent. I step forward and push Mike slightly with one hand. I have to admit that having the gun makes me feel powerful, not as frightened of his height and his size. I make sure that Ben can hear me and see what I’m doing. He needs to be able to tell the police what happened here.
‘What’s the combination?’ I demand and he shakes his head but then he seems to remember.
