Dangerous Promises (38 page)

The pathologist had provided one interesting fact, however: a cup of coffee had been thrown in Royston’s face shortly before he’d died. Had that been an angry response from someone who’d just heard something they didn’t like? It struck Gerald that this was more likely the action of a woman than a man, although he didn’t voice this opinion out loud. These days you had to be careful about making what could be perceived as sexist comments.

Turner switched on the engine and pulled away from the kerb. ‘The trouble is no one actually saw Royston and Mona Farrell together at the fair. Or the two girls come to that.’

‘It’s early days,’ Gerald said. They were still trying to track down all the fairground workers – as well as the visitors who’d been there last night – but it wasn’t an easy task. It could be days before they got statements from everyone.

‘It couldn’t have been planned, could it? I mean no one with any sense would actually choose to kill in a place like that. There’s too much chance of being seen. They could have gone to his flat or lured him to a quiet spot.’

Gerald dug out a tissue from his pocket and blew his nose. He felt like he’d had this cold for ever. Why couldn’t he get rid of the damn thing? It kept him awake at night, making him tired during the day. He fought to stifle a yawn. ‘Planned or not, Royston’s still dead.’

‘He’s that all right.’

Gerald scowled and pressed his lips together. Sadie Wise was out there somewhere – probably in London. Hadn’t he had a hunch about her right from the start, a feeling in his guts? After all his years in the force he could spot a liar when he saw one. He balled up the tissue, his hands closing around it in a tight, determined fist. Well, she might have got away with murder once, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it twice.

51

Sadie was already starting to lose track of time. How long had she been here for? Three, four days? When she looked at her watch she was no longer sure whether it was day or night. The bulb attached to the wall was always on, a constant dim glow casting shadows across the room. She lay on the mattress and gazed up at the ceiling.

There were extended periods when no one came at all, when she would begin to fear that they had left her there to rot, and then she would hear that strange scraping noise again, followed by the sound of the key in the lock. She didn’t know which felt worse, the sick horror of abandonment or the sight of Kelly looming over her with all that hate in her eyes.

Sadie could feel a throbbing in her left eye, half closed from where the girl had punched her hard in the face. It was always the same routine, the same endless questions, the same lashing out.

‘So who was it, you bitch? Who did you get to kill Eddie?’

‘No one,’ Sadie would plead. ‘I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.’

‘You’re a fuckin’ liar! Tell me! Tell me, you bitch!’

‘I didn’t do anything.’

Wayne Gissing would watch with that sly, sadistic smile of his while his sister laid into her. And there was nothing Sadie could do to protect herself. If she tried to fight back, it only made it worse. Anyway, it was two against one; she hadn’t got a hope in hell. There was nothing she could say either; if she admitted that she knew who’d killed Eddie, Kelly would kill
her
, and by continuing to deny it… well, the outcome would probably be the same eventually.

Sadie lay very still, trying not to move. Whenever she changed position her body cried out in protest. She had bruises on her back, her chest, her arms and legs. Her face hurt too, a constant ache that wouldn’t go away. She longed for sleep, for release, but at the moment it simply wouldn’t come. Whenever she closed her eyes she would see Kelly looming over her again.

And then there was the hunger. Sadie was trying not to think about the empty pit in her stomach. Since being snatched off the street in Haverlea she’d only been given two sandwiches. The first had been in the afternoon after the night she’d arrived, and she had eaten it greedily, stuffing the bread and cheese into her mouth. It had been another thirty-six hours before she’d been provided with another. This time she had been more careful, tearing off small pieces in order to make it last and savouring every morsel. There was still water, but she was taking care to ration it. She drank only a limited amount every day in case it was not replaced.

Sadie could feel the four walls of the room closing in on her. Already she knew every inch of her prison, every brick, every cold slab on the floor, every cobweb. The door was firmly locked and didn’t even have a handle on this side. She had examined the lock over and over again as if by constant scrutiny she might discover a means of getting it open. But no, there was no way out.

She wondered if Joel had realised she was missing. He would have tried to ring from the pub at Grasmere, but would not have been worried when she hadn’t picked up. She had told him she might be visiting her mother and he wouldn’t know that number off the top of his head. Would he be home yet? It was only then, when he flicked through her address book and made the call, that alarm bells would start going off.

Maybe the police were already looking for her. She held on to this hope, needing something to cling to. But in the back of her mind the little voices were chattering away: Why would they check out the Gissing house? Why would they look for her in London? Would they even take her absence seriously? People failed to return home every day. She would just be one more girl in a long list of missing people.

Sadie’s gaze slid over the ceiling as she tried to fight off her despair. She made an effort not to breathe too deeply; there was a stench emanating from the bucket in the corner. Nobody ever emptied it. She must stink as well; she hadn’t been able to have a wash or brush her teeth since she’d got here.

She had time, too much time, to dwell on all the mistakes that had led her to this God-forsaken hole in the ground, but feeling sorry for herself wasn’t going to achieve anything. She had to figure out a plan, a way of getting out of here before she became too weak to act. But what? Wayne was always guarding the door, creating a barrier between her and the cellar beyond.

It was cold in the room, but that wasn’t why she shivered. Just the thought of Wayne Gissing made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. The last time he’d come, he’d leaned over her before he left and whispered, ‘I could do anything to you,
anything
at all.’ And of course it was true. He had all the power and she had none.

Sadie forced herself to sit up. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees.
Think.
The idea that she might die here filled her with horror. It was better to die fighting, she decided, than to just lie down and give up.

52

Wayne Gissing limped into the hall as Sharon was pulling on her leather jacket. He frowned at her. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Going to work.’

‘You can’t.’

Sharon started doing up the zip. ‘Huh?’

‘Kel’s already gone out and I’ve got a bit of business. I told you.’

‘So?’

‘So we can’t all be out at the same time.’ He lowered his voice and glanced up the stairs, knowing that his mother was in the bathroom. ‘Who’s going to keep an eye on things?’

Sharon gave a careless shrug. ‘Well, not me, that’s for sure.’

Wayne took hold of her elbow, propelled her back into the living room and closed the door. ‘Someone’s got to stay here. What if she decides to go poking about in the cellar?’

‘She won’t.’

‘Oh yeah, and you know that for a fact, do you?’

‘I know she can’t stand the place. And no offence, babe, but I’m not spending the evening alone with her. She’s got a bloody screw loose. You’ll have to change your plans.’

‘It’s too late for that.’

‘And I’ve got to go to work so that’s that.’

Wayne, who had been looking forward to a few pints down at the Dog, raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. ‘So give it a swerve. It’s not as though you need the cash. Shit, we’re going to be rolling in it in a couple of days.’

‘A couple of days is a couple of days. I need money now, love. I can’t live off air.’

Wayne tried again. ‘Twenty grand,’ he said. ‘That’s plenty to go round.’

‘If he pays up.’

‘Course he’ll pay up. Wants the tart back in one piece, don’t he?’ The ransom note had already gone off, delivered in the dead of night to the Hope. Nathan Stone might not have all the money, but his boss certainly would. Terry Street was rolling in it. Twenty grand would be a drop in the ocean to him. And how could he refuse to help? Stone was a smart bastard, the brains behind most of the firm’s investments. Terry relied on him and couldn’t afford to have him pissed off.

‘And what if he doesn’t? Maybe he doesn’t give a fuck about the girl.’

‘Then we’ll send her back a piece at a time until he changes his mind.’

Sharon glared at him. ‘What? You’re kidding, right? I didn’t —’

‘Yeah yeah, keep your knickers on. I’m only messing. Look, he’s going to pay. Trust me, he will. So are you staying or not?’

‘I’ve already told you. I can’t afford it.’

Wayne didn’t want to leave Sadie Wise unattended, but he didn’t relish a night in with his mother either. She probably wouldn’t venture down into the cellar, but was it worth the risk? There was only thing for it. He took his wallet from his back pocket, slipped out a fiver and offered it to Sharon. ‘Come on, help me out here.’

She screwed up her face, ignoring his outstretched hand. ‘A fiver? That’s not going to go far. Make it a score and I’ll think about it.’

‘Are you having a laugh?’

Sharon gave another shrug and made as if to leave. ‘It’s not worth me skipping work for less. See you later.’

‘Okay, okay,’ he said, reluctantly taking out a twenty. The woman was robbing him blind, but he didn’t have a choice. It was worth paying just to escape from an evening of soap operas and game shows, not to mention his mother’s endless nagging. There was only so much a bloke could take.

‘Ta,’ Sharon said, quickly snatching it from his fingers before he could change his mind. ‘And believe me, you’re getting a bargain.’

‘You reckon?’

‘You know it.’

Wayne smirked, put his wallet in his pocket and went back through to the hall. He took his heavy winter overcoat from the peg and left the house. As he limped towards the Dog, he thought about what he’d spend the ransom money on when he got it: a holiday first of all, a fortnight on the Costa, and then a new motor, something flash to pull the birds in. He could do with some new threads too.

It was a shame he was going to have to share the cash. With a three-way split it would be just under seven grand each. Not bad, but not a fortune either. Really, he should be getting more than a third. After all, he was the one who’d taken the bullet. He scowled as he thought about that moment in the graveyard when the mad cow had pulled the trigger. Jesus, he deserved to get at least half for the pain he’d been through – he’d earned it.

Wayne glanced casually over his shoulder, certain that one of Street’s goons would be lurking in the shadows. They would have guessed by now – although they couldn’t be a hundred per cent sure – that the Gissings were behind the abduction, and they’d be trying to find out where Sadie was being held. Would they even think of looking in the house? Well, if they did, they wouldn’t find her. She was securely hidden and you couldn’t hear a damn thing through the thick walls of the cellar.

He was still trying to figure out exactly how and where they were going to do the exchange. It was going to be tricky, a time when things could go badly wrong. After all, once Stone got the tart back there was nothing to stop him and Street from blowing their fuckin’ heads off.

Wayne pushed open the door to the pub and stepped into the warm smoky interior. He went over to the counter and ordered a drink. By the time he was on his third pint, his mood was starting to get even darker. The more he thought about what Sadie had done to him, the more resentful he became. What was seven grand compared to a bullet in a leg, a leg that would probably never be the same again? Yeah, he’d like to chop the crazy bitch into pieces and post them back to the Hope. And maybe he would. Maybe he’d do just that.

53

It was rare that Petra Gissing ever got the house to herself but with both the kids out for the evening it was her intention to put her feet up, watch the telly and make the most of the peace and quiet. Which was why she wasn’t best pleased to find Sharon comfortably settled on the sofa, already in her dressing gown and studying a copy of the
TV Times
.

‘Not working tonight, then?’

Sharon gave her a disdainful look. ‘What do you think?’

Petra scowled back at her. ‘You always work on Wednesdays.’

‘So this Wednesday I’m not. Got a problem with that?’

Petra did have a problem, a big one, but she bit her tongue. She knew the best occasions to pick a fight and this wasn’t one of them. No, there was no point wasting her energy on idle bickering. If she was going to get shut of Sharon, she would need to use her nous, play it cool and outwit the evil cow. She wasn’t, however, prepared to spend any more time in her company than she had to and so she grabbed her coat and headed down the road to Colleen’s.

Inevitably the two of them ended up at the Bell. Petra had only meant to stay for a couple, but by half eleven she was still there drinking her seventh gin and tonic behind closed doors. It was a long time since she’d been at a lock-in and she wasn’t complaining. Well, not about the extra drinking time, but she had plenty of other things to get off her chest.

‘There’s something going on, Colleen. I’d bet my bleedin’ life on it. All three of them whispering together in corners or shutting up the minute I walk into a room. There’s something brewing, mark my words.’

‘What about Kelly? Won’t she tell you nothin’?’

‘No,’ Petra said resentfully. ‘She’s as bad as the other two. And Wayne’s being as shifty as they come. Not that he isn’t always – that boy’s got sly bones, just like his dad – but he’s ten times worse right now. He’s got that look in his eye, you know what I mean? I don’t like it, Col, stuff going on behind my back like this.’