––––––––
We drove for hours through a million and one small villages whose names meant nothing to me. I had no idea where we were headed. Eventually, I asked Craven to pull into the next town, so I could buy a change of clothes.
“Buy enough to last a few days,” he said, as he handed me a handful of banknotes. “We're going to be on the road for some time.”
I'd lost all track of days.
“Day? It's Saturday,” the shop assistant informed me. She clearly thought I was crazy.
I bought jeans, a skirt, two tops, underwear and shoes. I added a small holdall to carry them.
Craven was waiting by the parked car.
“I need a coffee,” I said, as I dropped the holdall into the back seat.
“Okay. Over there?” He pointed to a small cafe across the road. The sign would have said 'Brenda's' if the 'r' hadn't been missing.
The jolly woman behind the counter, who I assumed to be Brenda, recommended the home-made apple pie. I needed no persuasion. Craven settled for just coffee.
“Where exactly are we going?” I asked through a mouthful of apple and pastry.
“I don't know, but I'll know when we get there.”
I should have known better than to expect a straight answer from him.
The apple pie was delicious, and the coffee gave me a much needed pick-me-up.
“We should get going,” Craven said. He appeared a little on edge.
“I need the loo first.”
“Be quick.”
I gave him a mock salute, and then followed the signs. The loo was at the far end of a short corridor. I was a few paces away from the ladies when the door to the men's loo opened. Three young men piled out.
“Hello beautiful,” the tallest of the three said. He had ginger hair and acne. The three of them blocked the corridor.
“Excuse me, please.”
They didn't move.
“What's your name beautiful?”
“Can I get past, please?”
“What's it worth? How about a kiss?”
As Ginger came closer, I could smell the alcohol on his breath.
“Let me get past, please.”
“We're not stopping you. We just want a little kiss. Where's the harm in that?”
I was never going to be able to reason with these morons, so I turned back. As I did, one of them grabbed my arm, spun me around, and pressed me against the wall. It was Ginger.
“Why so rude?” He was right in my face now. “Do you think you're better than us?”
“I'm bloody sure I am. Now let me go.” As my knee connected with his balls, he let out a scream and doubled-up.
“Bitch!” One of his friends grabbed my arm.
“Let her go,” Craven said. Once again he'd appeared from nowhere.
“Mind your business,” the guy who had hold of my arm said.
“Let go of her arm and leave now while you still can.” Craven took two steps forward.
“She just kicked me in the balls,” Ginger said—his face still wracked with pain.
“I won't ask you again.” There was no hint of nerves in Craven's voice. I found his calmness strangely reassuring.
“I don't think so.” Ginger pushed his friend away, and took hold of my arm himself.
A sickening thud filled the corridor. Ginger was slumped against the far wall—his face bloodied. Craven was standing between me and the other two guys. They took one look at their stricken friend, turned, and ran away.
“Are you okay?” Craven gently brushed my cheek with his fingers.
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded.
“I'll never let you come to any harm. I'd lay down my life before I allow that.”
I didn't know how to respond. It sounded like a line, but I could see in his eyes he meant every word. I barely knew the man. How could he possibly feel that way? It made no sense—unless—unless everything he told me was true. But surely that was nonsense.
*********
It was early evening. We'd been on the road most of the day. In the distance, I could see city lights. Craven pulled into a lay-by and stepped out of the vehicle without a word. He had his back to me, but I could see him moving his head from side to side. He appeared to be sniffing the air.
“This is the place,” he announced when he returned to the car.
“Where are we?”
“Our new home.”
“You haven't seen anything of the place yet.”
“I don't need to.”
“What were you doing out there?”
“Checking the locals.” He smiled. “Trust me Louise, this is where we belong.”
“Why do you insist on calling me Louise? My name's Jackie.”
He laughed.
“What's so damn funny? How would you like it if I called you by a different name? Maybe I'll start calling you Raymond. Is that okay?”
“I love you, Louise.”
“Screw you, Raymond.”
“Are you kidding me?” I glanced at the run-down motel. “It's a dump.”
“It'll serve our purpose for now. We won't be here for long.”
“I want my own room.” I grabbed the holdall from the back seat.
“I need you where I can keep an eye on you. We'll share a room.”
“Only if it's a twin,” I said.
“If you insist.”
How I wanted to slap that grin off his face.
The motel was on the outskirts of the city. Our room was around the back.
“The heating in here is naff.” I kicked the radiator.
“I can warm you up.” Craven glanced at the twin-beds. “We could always push them together.”
“Forget it.”
He feigned disappointment. “I need to check the area.”
“I'll come with you.”
“No. You stay here. I won't be long.”
“Please yourself.” I wasn't about to beg.
“Don't open the door to anyone except me.”
I shrugged.
“I mean it.”
“Okay. Keep your hair on.”
I'd assumed Craven was taking a drive into the city, but our car was still in the car park. Why would he have gone on foot? I needed a distraction, so I tried the TV, only to find there was a choice of two channels, and one of those was a shopping channel. Fantastic!
“Do you have a phone I can use?” I asked.
“Ain't you got your own mobile?” The surly woman on reception said before wiping her nose on the back of her hand. A real class act.
I was tempted to tell her I wouldn't be asking if I had, but instead I smiled and shook my head.
“There's a pay phone around the back.” She snuffled and cleared her throat. “Don't know if it still works. No one uses it no more.”
“Thanks.”
The room appeared to have once been some kind of games room. A pool table with a ripped cloth stood in the centre of the floor; a dartboard hung on the back of the door. On the far wall, next to the window, was a pay phone. Going by the amount of dust on the coinbox, it hadn't been used or emptied in some time. I wasn't optimistic as I put the receiver to my ear, but to my surprise there was a dial tone.
“Dexter Travel. Sarah speaking. How may I help you?”
I'd made the call, but hadn't given a thought to what I'd say. She'd want to know where I was and what was happening. What would I tell her? What could I tell her? I'd just wanted to hear a familiar voice.
“Hello? Can I help you?”
Did Sarah know about Alison's murder? She must do. The police would have been sure to interview both her and Candice. Did she think I'd murdered Alison? No—she would know I wasn't capable of that.
“Hello.” The impatience in her voice was now evident.
I hung up. I should never have made the call. If Craven knew, he'd be majorly pissed off. Speaking of Craven, where the hell had he gone?
I took a walk around the perimeter of the motel—he was nowhere to be seen. Why did I even care? Maybe he'd had enough of my moaning, and had gone back to wherever he came from. Good riddance.
The surly receptionist ignored me when I walked past her desk. Back in our room, there was still no sign of Craven. With nothing better to do, I lay on the bed. The day's events must have caught up with me because I soon drifted into a deep sleep. For once, I didn't have nightmares.
It was dark outside when I woke up. I checked the time—almost nine o' clock—I'd been asleep for hours. There was still no sign of Craven, so I risked another visit to reception. The surly young woman had been replaced by an equally surly old man who told me he 'ain't seen anyone'. Judging by the number of cars in the car park, he was probably telling the truth. There were only three, and one of those was ours. At least I had transport if Craven didn't come back.
The car park was in almost total darkness; three out of the four floodlights were out. As I walked towards our car, I heard a sound in the distance, and thought I saw movement near the fence.
“Craven?”
I could just about make out the figure now. It wasn't Craven. It wasn't a man at all. It was an animal. A dog? No, it was too big for a dog. My heart sank as I recognised the shape. A wolf—bigger than the one Craven had scared away. It was on the other side of the fence, so maybe I could make it back to the motel. I sprinted across the car park, and burst into the motel reception. The old man behind the desk almost jumped out of his seat.
“What the hell are you doing?” he screamed at me.
“Wolf!” I managed to say as I tried to catch my breath. “There's a wolf out there.”
He laughed. “Don't be stupid. There are no wolves around here.”
“I just saw it.”
“I've lived here for almost thirty years, and I can tell you there are no wolves for a hundred miles.”
It was my turn to jump when the door opened behind me.
“Craven? Where the hell have you been?”
“Nowhere. What's wrong? Why are you out of breath?”
“This young'un reckons we've got wolves.” The old guy laughed.
“I saw it!” I said. I looked to Craven for support.
“I didn't see anything.” Craven shook his head.
“It was at the far side of the car park—just beyond the fence.”
“I've just been to check the car,” Craven said. “I didn't see anything.”
“You must have imagined it!” the old guy chimed in.
Before I could protest, Craven took my arm in his, and led me away. “We have to go!” There was urgency in his voice.
“I know what I saw!” I said as soon as we were back in our room.
“Never mind that now. Get your things. We have to leave.”
“Why? What's happened?”
“I'll explain later. Get your things.”