‘Emergency services – which service do you require?’
‘Police.’
‘I’m sorry caller I can’t hear you, can you speak up?’
‘Police.’
‘Can you put the phone to your mouth caller, I can’t …’
Tasha cut off the phone. It seemed the person on the other end of the phone was speaking louder than she was, filling the bathroom with a shrill voice. She didn’t dare speak any louder. Her mind was racing. She could hear Arnie in the flat calling somebody else, but he was bound to come in. She had to try to stay focused. Perhaps it was all a mistake. Perhaps there was an explanation and he didn’t know anything about it. Someone else could have placed the person in the bath and Arnie hadn’t even seen her … him …
it
, was even in there. Bullshit.
Tasha’s eyes filled with tears as she caught the horror of what was in the tub again. It was Arnold. There was no pretending. The man only a few feet away from her had done this. And once he found Tasha in there, she would be next.
Arnie smiled to himself. He loved it when she played games with him. Especially hide and seek. ‘Izzy, come out.’ He made a point of opening the cupboards and drawers, slamming them closed loudly so she could hear; letting her know he was going along with her game. But he knew she wasn’t in here. He knew exactly where she was. Arnie squeezed his mouth together and gulped to stop the chuckle coming out. He didn’t want her to think he was spoiling her game. That just wouldn’t be fair.
Arnie stood by the bathroom door. ‘I can’t find Izzy; perhaps I should look in the bathroom.’ He bent forward, stifling laughter, pressing his ear against the door to see if he could hear any sound from her. Nothing. She was obviously taking it very seriously. Straightening his face, he opened the door.
Tasha watched Arnie walk slowly in. She was holding her breath, desperately trying to stop crying out with fear. He hadn’t turned round to see where she was crouching yet, but he would. Any moment. And when he did, she knew he would see her. She knew she was almost dead.
‘Izzy? Izzy?’ Arnold’s voice bellowed in the bathroom. It echoed eerily. He felt so happy and the least he could do was let her have fun. Arnie walked to the sink and studied himself in the mirror which was hanging above it. He stood staring, wide-eyed for a few seconds and although he didn’t turn round, a huge grin spread across his face.
‘Oh, there you are.’ Arnold watched her in the mirror, crouched in the corner. Curled up, hugging her knees, to stop him finding her. She was so clever but he was more clever. He had found her.
As he stared at her in the mirror, Arnold was surprised to see she wasn’t smiling. He could see she had something on her face. It was blood. He turned round quickly, his face full of concern.
‘Oh my God Izzy, have you hurt yourself? Let me have a look at you.’ Arnie rushed to Tasha, sliding himself along the floor. She pulled away, terrified, unable to speak. She looked at him. He was so handsome, so tall, so softly spoken – yet he was the stuff of nightmares.
‘Let me see to your finger, Izzy.’
Tasha, still frozen, didn’t want to contradict him. Didn’t want to tell him it was her. Tasha. Not this person he and his next-door neighbour referred to as Izzy. She didn’t know what to do. If she screamed, she was sure it would make whatever horrors were going to happen worse. Much worse. Maybe if there was a way for her to manage to keep calm. Play along with him, then he wouldn’t hurt her, or at least not straightaway. If she could gain his trust. After all, they’d spent plenty of time together and he hadn’t hurt her then. But then he hadn’t ever called her Izzy, and she’d never seen that look in his eyes before.
Tasha heard a whimper and realised it was coming from her. Calm. Keep calm. Think of Ray-Ray. Think of Linda. Think of a way to get out of here.
‘Does it hurt?’ The concern in Arnie’s voice sounded so genuine. Tasha blinked, unable to respond with the simplest of replies. ‘You’re crying, Izzy. Don’t cry. I’ll make it better, I promise.’ Holding Tasha’s gaze, Arnold put her finger in his mouth, sucking away the blood. She shivered in horror, then her whole body began to judder. ‘You’re cold. Let me sort this out for you then, I’ll get you warm. Okay?’
She watched him run the bath tap, putting his hand under it to test the temperature, his fingers centimetres away from the dismembered corpse. ‘Here you are.’ Arnold stretched out his hand for Tasha to take. Frantically she shook her head, opening her mouth to breath, gasping for air. ‘I can’t, I can’t.’
Arnie frowned in puzzlement. ‘Whatever is the matter? Don’t you want your finger to get better? You can’t leave it to bleed. Now stop being silly and come here.’ His arm stayed outstretched and very slowly, Tasha reached for it, remembering she needed to make her think she trusted him.
‘There you are. That wasn’t difficult was it?’ He pulled her towards him and held her hand firmly, pushing it under the water. The angle of Arnie’s hold made it impossible for Tasha to stand up and she found herself having to kneel. Her body was pushed up against the bathtub, her face inches away from the remains of the person in the bath. She turned her head, letting out a small cry. It was almost as if it was invisible to Arnie and he couldn’t see the bloody mass lying there.
Tasha couldn’t stand it any more. Her stomach erupted and this time there was no holding back. She vomited over the tiled floor, heaving loudly as her body twisted in shock.
Tasha felt Arnie’s hand on her back. On all fours she scrambled away from his touch, her hand sliding in the mucusy vomit as she escaped back into the corner. She couldn’t stay calm. She couldn’t do it. He was going to kill her anyway. She screamed at him, ‘Just stay away from me Arnie. People know I’m here. So just let me go.’
Arnold sat back down on the edge of the bathtub, his face quizzically tilted to one side. ‘But Izzy, you’ve only just got here. Why would I want you to leave when the fun hasn’t even begun?’
Sit and wait. That’s all Freddie could do. Until of course it’d got dark and then he’d had to find cover from the cold summer rain. And the sitting and waiting had turned into a whole fucking night.
As Freddie sat on the moss-covered stone, looking out into the distance, it was hard for him to think of anything besides he’d been fucked over. His wife, his Tasha, had well and truly fucked him over.
Brooding wasn’t doing anything to help. He had to try to be practical, to keep focused on getting himself out of the mess, but his mind kept drifting. He couldn’t actually believe what had happened. It’d all been going to plan. To actually break out was almost unheard of and he, Freddie Thompson, had been the one to do it.
Had he really believed it was possible? He wasn’t sure. But what he
had
believed in was his wife. Marty, the driver, even Eddie or Johno at a push. But Tash? Turning him over? He would’ve put his life on it she wouldn’t have. But then he had, hadn’t he? He
had
put his life on it.
All the warning signs had been there and he, like an absolute muppet, had ignored them. Why the hell had he trusted her? He should’ve known by the way she was behaving. Sneaking around, not answering his calls. Not coming to visit. And tarting herself up like one of the Toms from Soho.
He’d been made a mug of. Eddie had even warned him and he’d been right. So right it was a joke. He should never have trusted a woman. Freddie was not only learning the hard way, he was paying one heavy fucking price for it.
He stood up, stretching and feeling last night’s dampness still in his clothes. Where was he? In the middle of fucking nowhere. The road they’d driven along yesterday was the only road leading on and off the moor. Besides a car driven by some old geezer sucking up the scenery as if it was something to admire, Freddie hadn’t seen anyone else.
He decided this was a good thing and a bad thing. Good, because it meant the likelihood of anyone seeing him was very slim. Bad, because he was now stranded. To make matters worse, he still had no signal on his phone to contact Johno. He’d turned his phone off in the night to save his battery, hoping that when he turned it back on there’d be a message, but he’d been wrong.
Stressing, Freddie wiped his lips. They were dry and he didn’t have any saliva to wet them with. A combination of nerves and thirst. Looking back at his mobile, Freddie smiled ruefully to himself. There was half a bar. Not enough to call anyone, apart from, ironically, the emergency services.
He reckoned if he could get out of the immediate area, away from the highest peak, there was a chance he could get a signal. Carefully glancing round, Freddie began to jog across the moor.
‘For fuck’s sake.’ The pain from banging his toe on what seemed to be the fiftieth stone sent Freddie rolling down the side of the slope. The place seemed to be made up of nothing but rough potted land, overgrown with heather, bracken and dry grasses, with large hidden stones hidden every twenty yards or so.
Even though it was early morning the day was beginning to get hot. The sun was already beating down, drying out the moor from last night’s rain, but Freddie had still managed to step into a waterlogged peat bog. One leg of his trousers was now covered in stinking black mud and his white trainers squelched as he walked, pushing out stale water. Moor. Hill. Mountain. To him it was all the fucking same, and his anger at being in this situation began to supersede his anxiety and paranoia at being seen.
The tiny path leading across the moors seemed well walked and Freddie hoped he didn’t bump into any ramblers. Although he was out of his prison gear he was conspicuous in his blue jeans and white Abercrombie and Fitch top.
His feet were hurting him and he didn’t want to look at his watch to see how long he’d been walking. His wet trainers rubbed on the back of his heel, causing a blister. Shit. Freddie stopped, realising he could be walking round in circles. He was sure he’d just walked this way. The landscape looked the same as it did fifteen minutes ago. But then, everywhere looked identical. Fucking countryside. Getting out his phone again, Freddie saw instead of getting a full bar, the flashing black line had disappeared to nothing.
‘Christ.’ His voice sounded loud against the quiet. He didn’t want to start to panic; it wasn’t his style anyway. He didn’t do panic. He did a lot of things. Anger, revenge, even murder, but panic; no.
Wiping his face with the sleeve of his top, Freddie decided he didn’t even want to start to analyse it. All he knew was that when he’d got to safety, Ray-Ray’s attackers would have to wait. Lucky for them they were no longer at the top of his list.
Beginning to walk again, he touched his Cartier wedding ring. The person whose name was at the top of the list, flashing in neon writing, was so much closer to home. Without a doubt, Freddie would see to it that Tasha got what was coming to her.
The sound of pop music made Freddie crouch down. He turned his head, looking around, but couldn’t see anyone. It sounded like it was coming from the other side of the large boulders and slowly he started to move, crawling along the ground at first, then on to his knees before running to the boulder, pressing his body up against it.
Freddie listened without moving. He could now hear the sound of voices. A woman. A man; yes he could definitely hear a man.
Freddie put his hand behind his back, lifting up his top to place his hands on the gun.
‘Hello.’
The voice behind him made him jump. Instinct had Freddie pulling out his weapon but common sense stopped him. He turned round to face a woman who wore a large smile and the most hideous floral dress. She kept eye contact with him as she poured out a flask onto the ground, turning the purple heather brown. ‘We’re camping, well, we were. Funny how time seems to stand still when you’re out here. We’ve got to head back now, but I’m trying to steal a few more minutes. Glorious isn’t it?’
Freddie nodded his head. He could feel the cold of the gun against his skin. The woman continued to stare and it didn’t escape Freddie’s attention she was getting a full on clock of his face. It made him more than uneasy. The question now for Freddie was what to do. He didn’t have a problem with shutting up people forever, but even to him it seemed slightly extreme at this present moment. However, if he had to, he would; he wouldn’t even hesitate.
Answering the woman’s question, Freddie smiled, moving round slightly to see if he could get a glimpse of who she was with.
‘Yeah, beautiful. Love it up here darling. Me and the missus always come when we get a chance.’
‘You’re not from round here though are you? That’s a London accent you’ve got isn’t it?’
Freddie gritted his teeth. The woman had only just met him and she was already sticking her beak into his business. ‘Yeah, you’re right, but when I have the chance to come, I do.’
‘Wife’s not with you? On your own? Did you park round here?’ The woman fired questions, glancing in all directions.
‘Sometimes it’s nice to take a bit of time out, you know how it is.’ It was obvious by the woman’s face she didn’t know how it was. ‘My car broke down and now I seem to have got meself a bit lost.’ Freddie pointed to his trousers, hoping the muddied leg would add some credence to his story.
‘Oh that’s a shame. My husband knows a bit about cars. Perhaps we could drive round to where you’ve parked it and take a look for you?’
Freddie was sidestepped for a moment, but he pulled himself together quickly. ‘Oh no, ta babes. Really kind of you and all that but I’d rather cadge a lift if that’s okay. Think it’s the electrics so it’ll be pointless looking at it. Needs to go to a garage. So perhaps …’ Freddie trailed off purposefully. He didn’t want to push this woman and make her nervous, but there was no question about him not getting a lift. It was just a matter of how. Hopefully she’d do it the easy way. Offer him a lift and then he wouldn’t have to resort to anything he didn’t need to.
‘Where are you heading?’
‘Anywhere it’ll be easy for you to drop me off sweetheart.’
‘Let me just check with Andy, I can’t see there’d be any problem, but you hear all sorts.’ She trilled out a laugh irritatingly, making her way down to the man who was struggling with getting the picnic mat back in the hamper.