Page 56 of The Girl in the Grave
He’d wanted to introduce Beth to Annie; it didn’t matter that she was dead. It certainly wouldn’t have mattered to her, she liked dead people, spent her entire working day cutting them up and getting paid for it. It made him wonder if she was a little bit sick inside, too. After all, what sort of person chose that as their job?
He’d found a bottle of the whisky that Bob had hidden away in one of the hatches. He didn’t think they’d have realised the boat was missing yet. He knew Bob tinkered around on it most days, but there had been no sign of him when he’d gone to where they kept it moored at Audrey’s elderly aunt’s house. And there had been no sign of life when he’d checked out the house and grounds, which had left him ample opportunity to throw Beth over his shoulder and carry her onto the boat. Hiding her car had been the most difficult part: he’d had to drive it off the road through the hedging into a field a little further down the road. It wasn’t as if she’d be needing it again, was it?
Pouring himself a generous measure of whisky, he tipped his head back and downed it in one. The warmth as it burned all the way down the back of his throat felt good. Instantly he felt all the tension begin to drain away, and he knew it was all going to be good. As he sat and stared at the lake he wondered whether he should just drown her and be done with it. No, that wasn’t what he’d envisioned for the formidable Doctor Elizabeth Adams.
He flicked through the book on his lap, turning up the dog-eared page to re-read his favourite paragraph: the bit where the collector shows her the room he’s prepared for her. Robert had understood how words could excite, could lead to new meanings the author never envisaged. He’d wanted to shout out in court at that lawyer who’d had made out Robert had used it as an excuse, a way to get off, like people who claim some kind of insanity to get out of prison. But he was as sane as the next man.The Collectorwas a masterclass in how to lure a victim into your web. And he’d lured Beth all right. She was stuck like a fly.
The lake seemed quiet now, but there were still people out and about on boats. He could hear the faint music drifting on the breeze from their radios. He looked to the water’s edge and the houses along it, nodding to himself. It was time to take Beth home and finish what Robert had started all those years ago. The police would be out searching for her; though they might have left someone at the house, he doubted it. But he could take care of them. It was secluded and private, exactly the kind of place to end a life.
He lifted the anchor and began steering the boat in the direction of Water’s Edge. He could get her inside, kill her and be off on the boat before the police knew what was happening.
He spotted the house after an hour of cruising up and down that stretch of water, though he’d had to check to make sure it was the right one. From where he was sitting on the deck it looked like it. There was no jetty, but that didn’t matter. He’d wait to see if there was any police activity at the house, then drag her to the shore.
Rooting around, he found a pair of small binoculars. There was someone inside wearing one of those white paper suits they wore on the television, traipsing to and from the house to a van outside. They were on their own, which was interesting. After a while, whoever it was made their way through the house turning off the lights in each room. Then they went to the van and drove off through the gates. That was better. Outside the gates was another police car with a police woman leaning on the bonnet talking to the person in the van. The copper walked across to the gates, pressed some numbers on the keypad and they began to close. Perfect, they were going to leave her house unattended. He supposed if Beth wasn’t there, and they had all the evidence they could find – which he knew was nothing because he’d never set foot inside of the place – what more was there to do? It wouldn’t surprise him if they left the officer out the front though, someone to guard the crime scene. It was a fair distance from the gates to the house. If he was lucky the patio doors would still be unlocked. He’d be able to take her in that way without any trouble.
She was finally going to die. No more second chances for Beth Adams. It was over.
Seventy-Eight
The boat lurched to a halt, throwing Beth to one side. She had spent the best part of the last hour trying to loosen her hands, ignoring the pain in her wrists from the rope burns. The scar on her temple throbbed, a sign she’d survived once before and could survive this, telling herself she was grateful for it because it meant she was still alive. She had woken up from her dreamless sleep to the realisation it was up to her. She was on her own. Josh wouldn’t be able to save her from this. He wouldn’t have a clue where she was. She knew if she wanted to survive – and she did, she truly did – then it was all down to her. A steely determination had filled her insides. What had been the point of the years of self-defence classes if she was going to roll over and play dead? If Phil had had to drug her to get her to this point then he must think she posed a threat. He’d taught her a little too well. She felt liberated knowing that she wasn’t going to lie down and take whatever he threw at her without a fight. No way. She’d spent years living in darkness and solitude, scared to live her life and get close to anyone in case they hurt her again. That wasn’t living. She knew that now. She was just beginning to enjoy life again, so she’d be damned if she was going to let Phil take it all away from her before she’d even got the chance to try. For the first time she was ready to fight to the death, and if he got the better of her, well at least she tried.
Why? The question filled her mind. What had she ever done to him? What had made him hate her so much that he wanted her dead? After everything she’d been through, the time he’d spent teaching her how to look after herself – the years she’d trusted him. None of it made any sense. But the pain of betrayal was crushing.
Finally, after much wriggling, there was some movement between the rope and her slender wrists. Not much, but enough that she could work it looser. She had to be smart: she couldn’t slip out of the ropes completely or he’d notice straight away, and she couldn’t fight in this tiny, enclosed space. She needed to be out on the deck to stand a chance. She could hear him moving around above her and knew that he was up to something; any moment now he would open the hatch, she just had to keep calm and bide her time. It had crossed her mind that in order to survive she might have to seriously hurt him, even kill him. She had made her peace with that decision and knew that given the choice between her or him she’d do it without a second thought. Why should he get to spend the rest of his days in a cushy prison cell like Robert? She thought of the unopened letters in the drawer back home. It was time to move on.
Suddenly the hatch was pulled up and she tried not to jump, wanting him to think she still wasn’t fully awake and aware. She kept her eyes shut as his dark shadow reached in and she felt his arms grab under her armpits and drag her out on the deck. After the overpowering smell of diesel in the hold, the fresh smell of the lake outside was refreshing. He threw her onto the deck, and she rolled to keep his attention away from her wrists: they were smarting and bleeding, but she could feel they were close to coming free.
‘I don’t for one minute think you’re not awake, so quit with the acting.’
She opened her eyes, glaring at him.
‘That’s better. I have a nice little surprise for you. I’m taking you home.’
Despite the pep talk she’d given herself, her blood turned to ice water. She turned her head slightly and saw they were anchored not too far from the shore near to her beautiful house. Her sanctuary. There was one thing, she thought, if this all went wrong she’d much rather die at home than buried underneath someone else’s coffin in the freezing, cold ground.
She jumped as he began to untie her feet.
‘Did you know we have a mutual acquaintance?’
She stared at him, not wanting to engage with this sick monster, but needing to know why she was here.
‘I went to visit him yesterday. He’s not very well, you know, but he sends his love and he said to ask you why you never answered his letters? I’m a dangerous person, by the way. You should have kept your distance from me. You would have if you’d known what was running through my head.’
Fear filled her veins at the thought of him and Robert together, discussing her in a prison visiting room. But why? What had she ever done to either of them to deserve this? To have drawn the attention of two men who wanted her dead.
‘Go fuck yourself,’ she whispered.
He began to laugh. ‘I like how feisty you can be, Beth, I’ve always admired that about you. Despite being scared of your own shadow, underneath it all there’s a lioness waiting to be set free. I’ll miss our little grapples on the mat. I failed that night. You were too loud and that was our downfall. Yet you came back for more. Do you have any idea how the excitement of straddling you on that mat each week made me feel? It was almost as good as the first time I straddled you. Robert was watching from the kitchen, but he panicked and tried to shut you up. He should have cut his losses and run away like I did. How many times have I told you there is no shame in running when it comes to self-preservation? More times than I care to remember, but you never listened and here we are all over again. Do you ever get the feeling of déjà vu? You said yourself at the trial you didn’t recognise the man who walked into your house that night. Why would you? Before then you’d barely given me a second glance, too busy with your perfect little life to notice me. I wasn’t a fancy doctor. I didn’t fit in with your social circle despite Robert trying his best to integrate me. Now, don’t go getting any funny ideas.’
Pain ripped through her chest as the horror and realisation that the only man she’d trusted since that night was the man who had been there all along. It was Phil who had attacked her. Not Robert. Though Robert had been there. Had planned it with him. How had she never figured this out? Or had she known deep down inside all along, buried it in her memory, unable to add a stranger into her personal nightmares? Was that where her fear of new people came from? Her whole body felt as if it was shrinking inside of itself and she didn’t know how much more of this her mind could take. Unable to speak, she nodded.
Before she could react he grabbed her and threw her into the icy depths of the lake. She felt herself begin to sink as her entire body constricted with the shock as the coldness enveloped her. Then there was a loud splash as he jumped in after her. His strong hands grabbed her, dragging her head above the water. He was much taller than she was, able to stand up in the water that was up to his shoulders.
Grabbing her by the hair, she felt excruciating pain as he dragged her towards the shore. Then they were out of the water and she was lying on the pebbly shore shivering, soaked to the bone, her scalp on fire.
Still she didn’t try and wriggle out of the loosened ropes on her wrists because she knew she had to wait until there was a chance she could make it.
Seventy-Nine
