Page 139 of D for Dead

She glanced again at the axe. It looked old and a little rusty. Would it cut through the rope? If she positioned herself, placed the axe between her wrists? A long shot, but anything was worth a go.

She scooted towards the axe, grabbed it with the toe of her boot and pulled it towards her.

The van took a sudden sharp turn and she fell back, landing uncomfortably on her wrists; the axe sliding away from her.

Dammit!

She tried again, shimmying towards where it lay. Her foot had just made contact when the van slowed, turned another corner then pulled to a halt. The man killed the ignition and she heard the sound of his door opening.

Amy froze, her heart jumping into her mouth. The shaking started again.

She was too late.

Oh God, no.

She waited, listening, expecting the door to open. Instead, she heard the sound of another door, this one outside the van. It sounded like a garage door being shut. She held her breath, dreading what was to come, but the footsteps she heard subsided and she heard another door slam, then silence.

Where the hell were they? What was happening?

It sounded as if they were in a garage. Where had the man gone? What was he planning?

As the silence set in, her heartbeat settled and she tried to force the shaking to stop again.

She felt exhausted and just wanted to lie down, close her eyes, pretend none of this was happening.

You can’t give up. If you give up you’re dead.

She thought of Huckleberry, of Boaz. She had to do this for them too.

Boaz isn’t moving. He’s dead.

She couldn’t think that. She had to believe he was still alive, still with her. If he was dead, it meant she was in this all alone. She didn’t want to be alone.

Using the toe of her boot again she brought the axe towards her. Now the van wasn’t moving, it should be easier to position the blade. The shaking wouldn’t stop and it made it difficult to hold the axe in place, but finally she managed to get herself on her knees and, securing the axe handle between her calf muscles, she started sawing at the rope.

It took forever, twisting her limbs at an awkward angle to reach the blade, and she could feel pain shooting down her neck and into her shoulders. The axe was blunter than she had expected and the interior of the van stifling and airless. Sweat rolled down her forehead and into her eyes and she longed to be able to spit the gag out of her mouth; would give anything for a drink of water.

She was tired and the rope didn’t seem to be wearing. If the man came back, she would have no strength to fight. It was no good. She couldn’t do this.

Emotion hit and she choked down a sob. Dropping the axe she slipped to the floor and began to blub like a baby.

Pull yourself together.

Exhaustion rolled over her, the enormity of the situation taking hold.

You have to fight. You can’t give up.

And she would. But first she needed to gather her strength. Closing her eyes, she let oblivion take over.

41

Ryan Caparelli was either dead or had staged it to look that way. Joel had left officers covering the ground near where Caparelli’s cell phone had been found. Seeking any trace of him, they had initially searched the surrounding woodland, before turning their attention to the neighbouring farm. It was in the pigpen that Caparelli’s fraternity ring had been found. At least they assumed it was his ring; it bore the initials RC inside. Tomorrow they would return with a team and try to find any other remains the pigs might have left.

If Caparelli had planted the ring, he had wanted them to believe he was dead, so what was he up to? If he had been murdered, his killer had been careful not to draw attention to the death. It was not showy like the killings from Amy’s books, and this posed the question, were the incidents related?

The camera footage of Caparelli with Troy Cunningham at his gym on the morning he disappeared taken together with the unfinished and unsent text suggesting Caparelli had seen David Gavin, made Joel certain they were. There were too many coincidences otherwise, and he didn’t believe in coincidence.

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