Should I have brought a weapon with me? But what would I bring? A knife? Maybe. But what if the person I’m meeting is physically stronger than me? Which, let’s face it, is more than likely. They’d be able to overpower me and take the knife. The only thing that might have been useful is some kind of pepper spray. Why didn’t I bring something like that? Probably because it’s Sunday, the shops are all shut, and the text didn’t give me any time to prepare. The texter must have arranged it like that on purpose.
I have to stop psyching myself out. Instead, I need to go back to channelling that anger. I can’t go in there acting like a frightened little mouse. But as I draw closer to the boathouse, my legs turn soft and my fingers tingle – nerves are getting the better of me. Up ahead, the wooden building is still adorned with bunting from yesterday’s regatta. It flaps forlornly in the weak breeze. The whole place looks abandoned. I glance around to check if anyone’s near, but I can’t see a soul. As I approach the wooden door, I slow down and try to make as little sound as possible. My heart thuds in my ears.
I wonder whether to try the front entrance that leads to the bar and function room, or to go round to the back gate where the spare boats and sailing gear are stored. I’m closer to the front, so I try that first. The door to the function room is usually padlocked when it’s not in use, but tonight the latch is open. I push at the wood and the door swings wide. It’s even darker inside the building. If it wasn’t for the fact that the door was unlocked, I’d assume there was no one here. But I already know there’s someone inside, waiting for me.
‘Hello?’ I cry out tentatively, cringing at the weakness of my voice, the dryness of my mouth. There’s a muffled sound like someone in pain. I swing the torch beam up from the floor and gasp at what I see straight ahead.
In the middle of the vast black space, a dark-haired woman sits on a chair. She’s been tied up and gagged. She screws up her face, her eyes closing, as the light from my torch blinds her. I lower the beam a little and she opens her eyes. I suddenly realise I know who it is. It’s…
‘Fiona?’
I walk towards her. ‘Fi? Shit,shit. Don’t worry, I’ll get you out of here.’
Her eyes widen, and too late I realise she was trying to warn me.
A figure looms out of the darkness, cutting off my path. I cry out in shock and take a step back, still disoriented and confused by seeing Fiona tied up in here.
‘Hello, Tia… MrsPerry.’
It’s a dark-haired man and he’s carrying a lantern, illuminating the space around us. I recognise him, but it still takes me a second or two to place him.
‘Mr Jeffries?’
He smiles and I realise that my senses were correct earlier – heiscreepy.
‘What on earth’s going on?’ I lower my torch, wondering if I could use it as a weapon. ‘Why is Fiona here?’ Could I bash him over the head with it? ‘Was it you who sent me those pictures?’ My voice tails off when I notice what he’s carrying in his other hand – a large hunting knife with serrated edges. I swallow down fear and bile, my grip loosening on the torch as my palms begin to sweat. The torch clatters to the wooden floor.
Mr Jeffries raises the lantern in the direction of Fiona. ‘Sit down, Tia.’
‘What? I…’ Hesitantly taking my eyes off him, I turn my head to look, and see an empty chair next to Fiona. Presumably it’s been placed there forme. At the edge of the pool of light, I see another empty chair. My mind is racing now. I’m thinking that if Mr Jeffries sent me a set of fake pictures, did he also send some to Fiona? And that third chair…? Is there another woman out there who’s going to walk through the door, hoping to bargain her way out of her own personal nightmare?
‘Did you hear what I said?’ Mr Jeffries has injected some steel into his voice. ‘Sit. Down.’
But I realise that if I sit down and allow him to tie me up, then I’m relinquishing everything. At least right now, while I’m free, I could try to make a break for it. I could run out of here and scream for help. Hope that someone hears.
‘No you don’t.’ Mr Jeffries senses my hesitation, because in one swift movement he drops the lantern on the ground, grabs my arm and holds the knife up to my throat.
I gasp and try to lean away from the blade, but he’s too strong. It’s no good; I waited a second too long. Behind me, I hear the sound of the door closing.Is someone else here?Soft footsteps come up behind me.
‘I told you to sit down, Tia,’ Mr Jeffries says through clenched teeth. He looks grotesque in the lantern light. Shadows flicker across his face as he looms even closer, the tang of beer on his breath.
‘You’d better do what he says.’ A young woman’s voice from behind. She walks around me, hovering just outside the pool of lamplight so I can’t quite make out her features.
I shift my gaze back to Mr Jeffries. ‘Why did you send me those photos? They’re fake, right?’ I still haven’t moved towards the chair. I need to ask my questions before they gag me. ‘Just tell me why you did it? What do you want? Money?’
Mr Jeffries sneers. ‘Stop asking stupid questions and sit the fuck down.’ He presses the blade to my neck, and I flinch at the pressure of cold steel against my skin. I can’t feel if he’s drawn blood. Would it hurt, or would my adrenalin mask the pain? I don’t have the nerve to test his patience further, so I shuffle forward in the direction of the chair, catching Fiona’s eye. I can’t tell if she’s scared or – knowing Fiona – angry. Possibly she’s both.
This all feels so surreal. If only I hadn’t received that text before I confided in Ed. I was all set to tell him, and if I had, I wouldn’t have needed to come here. I would have called Mr Jeffries’ bluff. Too late for regrets now. I’ll have to make the best of it. Work out a way to get out of this nightmare.
Presumably these two want something from us. So as long as we give it to them, they’ll let us go. At least I hope that’s how it’s going to work, because I don’t even want to let my mind formulate an alternative scenario.
Mr Jeffries moves with me, the knife now millimetres from my throat. I reach the chair and he puts a hand on my shoulder, forcing me down into it. While he stands above me, the woman crouches down and shoves my legs apart, binding my ankles to the chair legs. She then moves behind me and pulls my arms around the back of the chair, tying them together. It’s only been a few seconds and my limbs are already protesting. Next, she wedges a strip of material in my mouth and ties the two ends into a knot at the back of my head, catching a lock of hair in the process, which pulls painfully at my scalp.
This has all happened so quickly. How the hell did I let myself be captured like this? I can’t believe I came here so willingly. Why is Rosie’s teacher part of this? Does he have me mixed up with someone else? Did I do something wrong? But if it’s something to do with school, then why does he also have Fiona? Unless it’s related to that night out we had for Fiona’s birthday. After all, that’s when those photos were supposedly taken.
I’m just going to have to hope that whoever walks in here next is way smarter or stronger than me and Fiona. That they can somehow overpower these two psychos and get us out of here. If they can’t, I have a horrible feeling that things aren’t going to end well. Because Mr Jeffries doesn’t seem like the reasonable type. I think he might be planning to hurt us. Maybe even kill us.
I struggle uselessly against my bonds and try to call out, but it’s hopeless; all I can manage is a weak grunt. An image of Rosie and Leo jumps into my head. What will they do without me?I don’t want to die.Please, God, don’t let me die.
