Page 22 of D for Dead

No, dear God no, please don’t let him cut me.

Pathetically she wriggled beneath him, going nowhere.

The click of a lid, the shake of an aerosol can. Her heart thumped.

What is he doing?

He began to spray the can at her chest; the smell of fumes filled her nostrils, her sobbing becoming choking. When he was done he sat back for a moment, as if admiring his handy work, before roughly pushing her over onto her belly, forcing her face into the dirt as he sat on her thighs.

Shannon heard the spray of the aerosol again, this time on her back, and her brain scrambled to understand what was happening.

Eventually the spraying stopped. Again there was a pause, then another click. This time there was no mistaking the sound of the blade opening.

She started screaming again, now hysterically, waiting for the slice of the knife. How was he going to do it? Was he going to stab her in the back or pull her head back and slice open her throat?

Unexpectedly he went for her wrists, cutting through the binds holding them together. Her arms fell limply by her sides as the weight on her back shifted. She heard footsteps. Were they fading? Was he leaving? For a long moment she lay on the barn floor, barely daring to breathe, let alone move.

Was he gone?

Eventually she pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her arms were hurting from how they had been forced behind her back. She glanced around. The door of the barn was still open and the man nowhere in sight.

Was it a trick, a test to see if she ran?

Tentatively she climbed to her feet, wrapping her arms around her body to check she was still in one piece. Aside from the pain in her banging head and bloody mouth, she was okay. Struggling to stop her heels sinking into the soil, she cautiously made her way towards the door on shaking legs.

From the dusky light outside, Shannon guessed it was about nine, nine thirty. There was maybe another ten minutes of light before darkness took hold; time for her to establish where she was and get the hell out of here.

Her heart sunk as she exited the barn and realised exactly where she was: the middle of nowhere. The only other buildings she could see were two further barns, both large in size. They appeared to be used for storage as she could see no grazing animals nearby. All three were surrounded by open fields, a dirt trail running from the barns past the fields and into woodland in the distance.

Why had he brought her here and then left?

Remembering the aerosol, Shannon glanced down at her blouse. Crude red paint had ruined it. Two red circles, one inside the other.

What was it supposed to mean?

Knowing she was going to struggle in her heels, she removed them. The dirt trail was probably stony, but she would walk better barefoot. Besides, the stiletto heels of her shoes were sharp and the only potential weapon she had should her attacker return.

She was midway along the trail and nearing the end of the first field when the gunshot came. Startled, she dropped her shoes, as the unexpected crack came from nowhere. As she scooped to pick them up, a second bullet whizzed past her head.

Her attacker.

Forgetting about the shoes, Shannon broke into a sprint heading for the woodland that still seemed so far away.

Have to get away. Have to make it to the safety of the woods.

A third and fourth bullet, both close, but not hitting.

Was he missing deliberately?

As she ran, panting heavily, sudden realisation of the significance of the paint dawned.

It was a target. He had been marking her up.

He was never planning to let her go. She was supposed to run; it was part of the game. And the object of the game was for him to kill her.

8

Amy was a couple of blocks from the bar when she realised she was being followed.