AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Your room is on the left at the top of the stairs,” Ned said. “Hunter will bring your luggage. I’ll see you later.”
He walked off down the right-hand hallway. I watched until he was out of sight then turned and headed for the door. But there was no handle, just a panel on the wall; I would need the code to be able to open it. I tried not to panic. Ned couldn’t keep me here against my will. I would phone Carolyn, she would know what to do. Except, I realized, we hadn’t picked up my phone at the airport.
I looked around; there had to be a phone somewhere. There wasn’t one in the entrance hall so I walked down the left-hand hallway, determined to search until I found one.
There were three doors; behind the first two were a huge sitting room and an equally huge dining room, with internal doors between so that they could become one vast reception area. I moved quickly between lavish sofas and low tables, then moved to the dining room, checking every surface I could see. But there wasn’t a phone anywhere.
The third room along was a large kitchen with doors that led onto a terraced seating area. It seemed to have every gadget anyone could wish for except a phone. At the end of the hallway, a door led to a garden at the side of the house. There was one more door; I opened it and saw stairs leading down to a basement.
Back in the entrance hall, I stood for a moment, debating whether to go in search of Ned to ask him where I could find a phone, or continue looking myself. Making a decision, I ran up the marble staircase, counting as I went. I always counted steps, it was something I’d always done—the house where I lived with my father had eleven, Ned’s had twenty-four. I arrived on a wide landing with a polished wooden floor, partly covered by an ornate green-and-red runner.
Remembering what Ned had said about my bedroom being on the left, I opened the first door. Like every other room I’d seen, it was huge. My luggage from the trip to Las Vegas was already there; Hunter must have brought it up while I was downstairs. Deflated, I sank onto the king-sized bed. Now I’d missed my chance to explain to him about my marriage to Ned.
Gradually, I realized that all the objects decorating the room—a wooden box, a couple of china bowls, the books, a photo of my mother and father—belonged to me. It felt too much, too intrusive and controlling. I got to my feet and found an en suite shower room, the toiletries from my apartment laid out. There was also a dressing room with my clothes already hanging neatly on the rails. Opening the drawers, I found my T-shirts and underwear, and my cheeks reddened at the thought of Hunter handling my underpants and bras. Anger took hold; he had no right to enter my home and remove my things. I needed to find a phone, fast.
At first, I thought the bedroom next to mine was Ned’s bedroom, but its colors—shades of yellow—and a dress neatly draped over the back of a chair, plus two pairs of sensible shoes tucked under it, told me a woman slept there. A live-in housekeeper, maybe? There was no phone on the bedside table and when I continued my search, I found that the two doors on the other side of the landing were locked.
Even angrier now, I ran downstairs and took the right-hand hallway, looking for Ned. It was identical to the other hallway, with three main doors and at the end, a door that led to the outside. I heard Ned’s voice coming from behind the middle door. He was on the phone, and from his irritated tone, he was having an argument with someone.
I paused, waiting, listening. But I couldn’t hear anything clearly, so Istepped away from the door and traced my steps back down the hallway. I opened a door and found myself in a beautiful wood-paneled library, its shelves filled with hundreds of books, maybe thousands. There were two sets of carved wooden steps on wheels, for reaching to the higher shelves and, in the far corner, two beautiful high-backed armchairs, placed to face the tall windows that looked onto the front of the house. Along the left-hand wall, a set of paneled double doors led to the room where Ned was; I could hear his voice clearer now.
“Look, I’ve sorted it out,” Ned was saying. “It was a misunderstanding, I told her I was terminating her contract and she took her revenge.”
His words brought me to a halt. Who was Ned talking about?
I crept closer to the set of doors.
“I don’t know how it was leaked to the press, but I’ve taken care of it, she’s not going to press charges.” Ned’s voice had risen and there was an edge to it. “Well, God forbid that your precious foundation should be touched by it… No, there’s no truth in it, I’ve already told you and no, there won’t be any repercussions—Dad? Dad?” A silence, then a curse, and behind the double doors, I was filled with an impending sense of dread.
Something wasn’t right.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
PRESENT
“I’m sorry,” I say to the man when he arrives. “I’m sorry for throwing the tray at you, for the things I said. I know it’s not your fault, I know that someone is forcing your hand and that you probably hate what you’re doing. I know that you’d help me if you could. You’re as much a victim in this as I am. If I ever get out of here—”
The door closes, and the room is silent again.
I sit in the darkness and blink so hard I see the edges of star patterns behind my lids. The pads of my fingers pinch at the skin of my arm. To my abductors I barely exist. But I am still here. I’m still alive.
In the bathroom, I score another line on the wall. Two weeks, we’ve been here two weeks. Why is nothing happening?
I’m in the middle of my first circuit of steps when I hear footsteps in the hall outside. If I can hear them, it means he’s wearing shoes. If he’s wearing shoes, it means he’s coming for me.
I dart back to my corner and huddle under the blanket just as the door opens. I try to make my breathing deep and even, but in my heart, I know that pretending to be asleep won’t make him go away.
I’m right. The blanket is removed from me, he pulls me to my feet.Instead of resisting, I let myself be moved; I need him to think I’m somehow helping him. In return, a hood is put carefully over my head, my hands tied more loosely behind my back. He guides me from the room with hands that feel almost gentle on my shoulders.
The air smells different in the hallway, even through the hood I can sense that it’s heavier, dense with sunlight maybe. The skin on my arms prickles as he takes me down the twelve stone steps to the cooler air of the basement, to the room where Ned is being held. I hear the door slam, allow myself to be placed on the chair, then tied to it.
Like before, the hood comes off, and light scorches my eyes before I’m quickly blindfolded. In those few seconds there’s no time to see anything, just a flash of light, then darkness again. A hand, hard, ruthless, grips the back of my head, keeping it facing forward. I know it’s the other man. It’s always the other man who holds me still.
It reaches me then, the same sour smell, but stronger. Ned. He’s here, next to me. They’ve lined us up, side by side.
“State your name, say you have a message for Jethro Hawthorpe. The message is that if he doesn’t pay up, his son will die.” A pause. “Speak.”
“No.”
