Marina moved slowly towards the car. A dead woman walking. Her heart was heavier than it had been in a long time; heavier, even, than it might have ever been before.
She opened the door, sat down in the driver’s seat. Put her head against the rest. She heard herself sobbing before she felt the tears on her face. Like something coiled so tight within it could only leave her body in short, jagged bursts. Anger. Pain. Loss. Helplessness.
Josephina. Phil. Don and Eileen. Her life.
Coming in sharp, emotional sword thrusts, every blow a hit, stabbing and wounding.
She clenched her fists. Hammered them against the steering wheel, screaming. Pounding hard, pummelling. No words, just incoherent rage. On and on. On and on. Until there was nothing left within her to come out. Until she no longer had the energy to expel it. Until she was spent. Then she sat, head back, eyes closed, breathing like she had just run a marathon. Empty. Empty and down. Her emotions crashed, burnt out.
But she knew it wouldn’t last for long. The feeling would only be temporary. She would fill up again. The emotions inside her would need another outlet. They had to. What had happened to her was so huge, such a seismic shift in her life, that there would be no alternative.
She just hoped she would be able to cope.
Love Will Tear Us Apart.
She scrambled for her bag, thrown carelessly on the passenger seat. Began pulling things out, littering the cramped interior. She found the phone, held it to her ear, answered the call.
‘Hello … hello … ’ Her voice high, shrill. She swallowed hard, tried to cap the desperation rising inside her. ‘Hello?’
‘Good girl.’ The voice again. That same voice.
Marina said nothing. Waited.
The voice said nothing either.
Marina had to break the silence. ‘Where is she? Where’s Josephina?’
‘All in good time.’
‘I want to talk to her. Hear her voice … ’
‘Not yet. You’ve still got … there’s something you still have to do.’
Desperation welled. A wave of impotent rage swept her body, her legs and feet tingling, her toes curling. ‘But … please, let me talk to my daughter.’ Silence. ‘Please … ’
More silence. She heard a rustling in the background. Muted voices, hushed tones. Nothing she could make out. Then eventually: ‘Not yet. You still have something to do for us.’
Marina felt the tears threaten once more. She didn’t know if she had the energy to cope with them. ‘What … Tell me and I’ll do it.’ Her voice defeated.
‘Put this into your sat nav.’ It was a postcode. ‘Now go there. You’ll be given instructions.’
She tried to reassemble her thoughts. Regain her training. ‘Why are you doing this?’ she asked. ‘Look, let’s talk. What’s … what’s your name?’
The voice gave a bitter laugh. ‘Don’t try all that psychological profiler bullshit on me. You can forget that.’
‘But—’
‘Just go.’
She no longer had the strength to argue.
‘And the same rules apply. No police. No one else. No traces. You’ve done well so far. Don’t spoil it now.’
‘And then … and then can I see my daughter?’
‘If you’re a good girl and you do what we want.’
‘Please, don’t … don’t hurt her. Don’t hurt her. Please … ’
The phone went silent.
Marina had never felt more alone in the world.
She placed the phone on the passenger seat, perched on the summit of the mountain of debris she had taken from her bag. Put the car in gear, left the car park.
Kept one eye on the phone all the time, just in case it rang. Willing it to ring while she drove.
It didn’t.