Gemma was so thirsty. It was all she could think about. That and the fact a second line had been carved into the strip of wood by the bed. It must be Friday. She was meant to check out of her hotel at ten and be on the train by eleven thirty.
She had no idea of the time. Or if anyone at the Cambridge Court would report her missing. And what about Stephen? What would he think when the train pulled in and she wasn’t on it. Would he be worried? Or just pissed off, assuming she’d decided to stay longer and damn the consequences?
Painfully, she twisted around to the bench beside the bed. A bottle of water was sitting there, along with an apple and a brown-bread sandwich. Also, a bucket had appeared at the foot of the bed. It had been the same yesterday.
How had that happened without her knowing?
Her head swam as she leaned forward to reach for the bottle, then winced as her raw skin chaffed beneath the cold steel of the manacle. She could feel one of the cuts start to bleed as she fumbled for the bottle before finally managing to grasp it. Her hands shook as she unscrewed the lid and the faint metallic tang of tablets caught in her nose.
Some kind of drug.
Was that why she hadn’t heard anyone come in? Because they’d laced the water with something? Or was it in the food?
Her throat ached as she stared at the water bottle, hating the cruelness of it. Were they watching her now? Laughing at the terrible dilemma they’d given her? Drink and succumb to the drugs or don’t drink and die of dehydration. She slumped back against the wall, still clutching at the bottle. Her limbs were drained of energy and it took all her strength just to stay upright.
It made a mockery of her plan to escape. And to think how much she’d laughed at the stupid girls in horror movies who gave up without even trying. But now she was one of them. A stupid girl about to die.
Stop it, a voice deep inside her hissed. Her body might be weak but she still had her mind. And she had to figure out who was behind it. Sam? Had he secretly resented what she’d told him? He was strong enough to have done it. Or… was it Nathan?
Her skin prickled. He seemed the more likely. She’d seen him yell at his son and then sit outside Hayley Terrace’s house. Had Libby told him about their conversation? More than likely. She was such a fool to have even come down here. And for what? Stephen had been right.
You’re chasing ghosts, and sometimes that can be worse.
Why hadn’t she listened?
All the times he’d tried to bring her back into the light and away from the hyper fixation that had become her family inheritance. Family trauma. Suddenly, another life flashed before her. One of her and Stephen together. Not just having the occasional hook up and friendly banter as they supported each other through their careers. But something deeper. Shared. A life that didn’t just revolve around work and Colin Wallace.
Tears jabbed in the corner of her eyes for the life she hadn’t been able to live.
He’d already taken enough from her and her family and now his son was going to continue the job. She blinked away the tears in her eyes as the door creaked open. The blackness was broken by a flash of dull light and then a figure appeared. They were wearing a mask on their face and their body was hidden beneath a huge coat.
A slim beam shone in her face and she recoiled from the glare. Her fingers tightened around the water bottle as the figure moved closer. There was a shuffle on the ground, as if the person had a limp, and Gemma began to shake.
‘Please, let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone. You won’t get in trouble. Just let me out.’
But there was no answer, just the scraping of a bucket against the floor. They were replacing her makeshift toilet. Then the light faded as the figure retraced their steps and headed back towards the door. Desperation spread through her limbs.
‘No. Don’t go. Don’t leave me here.’
But it was too late. The door cracked open, and the figure stepped through it, before closing it behind them. The room once again returned to blackness and Gemma gave in to the tears.