Protection (28 page)

“Alright, I will. But why are you still up? Shouldn't you be in bed by now?”

“I should, but I wanted to check the house first.”

“So you think someone could be here?”

“Well, let's just say it's possible and seeing as how I'm supposed to be the bodyguard around here, I thought it my job to check these things out. Oh, and please don't worry if you see a light in the marquee in a minute, that'll be me. Freezing my butt off in search of mystery man.”

“Grief Andrea, do you have to?!”Amanda said, shocked. “It's below freezing out there tonight. You'll freeze your whatsits off!”

“What a lovely thought.”

“Yes, well, Just make sure you wrap up nice and warm. Carrie won't thank you if you get into bed feeling like a lump of ice!”

Lost for words, Andrea gaped at the receiver. Then she heard Amanda chuckle, and laughing herself, she hung up, marveling again at the housekeeper's wonderful and unexpected sense of humour.

The last of her make-up removed, Carrie stood up from the dressing table and turned towards the bed, certain that if Andrea took much longer to check the house she would find her fast asleep. Not that she thought Andrea would mind. With any luck she'd cuddle up to her back and go to sleep curled around her, and still be there when they woke up in the morning.

Taking off her bathrobe Carrie eased herself into bed and shuffled down until only the top of her head showed above the duvet. Then, with sleep already beginning to claim her, she suddenly realised that this had been the first party she'd ever hosted or been to where she hadn't felt compelled to follow the ritual first.

Grumbling to herself, Andrea pushed her way through yards of white material and marched determinedly into the marquee.

This was ridiculous she huffed. Not only had she forgotten to pick up her gloves, she couldn't see anyone being stupid enough to hide out in this cold and switching on her torch, she shone it round the hushed tent, seeing nothing but tables, chairs and party leftovers.

Slowly, slowly.

With infinite care, Isobel eased the closet door open and on hands and knees, crawled out into the bedroom. The thick carpet muffling all sound, as stealthily she made her way towards the bed and peered over the edge to see which of them lay sleeping there.

But the darkness would give nothing away and disappointed, she dropped back down again. Glancing quickly at the closed bedroom door before risking another look and noticing, for the first time, the dark hair spread across the pillow.

Back inside the house and grateful for it, Andrea shrugged off her coat and shoes, locked up after her and started for the foot of the stairs, still using the torch to light her way for fear of disturbing either Carrie or Carmichael by switching on the lights. But no sooner had she reached half way when the sound of Carmichael snoring his head off proved her consideration to be pointless and chuckling to herself she considered it a good thing he wasn't married.

Climbing to her feet, Isobel wiped her sweaty hands down her trousers and gazed lovingly at the sleeping form. She was so close now. So close to having everything she wanted and holding her breath, she listened to the soft inhale and exhale coming from the bed and relished, despite her eagerness to announce her return, these last, few moments of sweet anticipation.

But how she longed to touch her hair and her skin. How she ached to wake her from this innocent sleep and see the wonderful surprise on her face when she realised she had been there all along, watching over her whilst she slept.

And she would do it too.

In a little while.

Come out, come out, wherever you are!

Chanting the rhythm, Andrea methodically went from room to room, finding nothing out of the ordinary and hearing only the sounds of Carmichael's snoring, which although it made her thankful that she didn't have to sleep next to him, also made her realise that any noise an intruder might be making was very effectively being drowned out.

Bathed in darkness, Isobel wallowed in fantasy and giving herself completely to the wonderful visions that filled her head, she felt her heart pound skittishly in her chest.

Then, hardly daring to breath, she reached out and grabbed the edge of the duvet. Pulling the covers slowly towards her and exposing long, dark hair, that lying perfectly down a smooth, tanned back had Isobel's head shrieking in alarm!

Two more rooms to go and she could go to bed. Hoo-bloody-ray!

Opening the door to the guest bathroom, Andrea stepped inside and nearly falling over the crumpled bath mat and towels left lying on the floor, she swore out loud as her torch went flying and she was plunged into darkness.

Isobel felt like screaming.

It wasn't her!

How could it not be her?

She had planned everything so carefully. Down to the very last detail, so how..could..it..not..be..her!

How could it fuckin' NOT BE HER!

Furious, she stared up at the ceiling and silently screamed, then yanking the duvet off the bed, she grabbed it with both hands and shoved it down over Carrie's face.

Shrugging, Andrea replaced the fallen towel and realising that she had probably found the final destination of their intruder, who had probably done nothing more than sneak up here for a crafty screw, decided to leave it there. None of the other rooms showed any signs of disturbance and she couldn't think of any reason why she should keep going? Not when bed was such an attractive alternative.

“Should have got those cameras in sooner.”She said to herself as she closed the door behind her. “I could have been asleep ages ago.”

She couldn't breath!

Jolted from her dream, Carrie gasped for breath then realised she couldn't as something thick and heavy pressed down on her face and prevented her from breathing.

Instinctively she tried to move her arms, but they were pinned to her sides and , frantic, she kicked out with both feet. Bucking her body again and again, until finally one her hands managed to work free and she was able to thrust it out of the side of the bed. Crunching her fingers against the side of the bedside table, but not caring as she scrambled for the duvet and tried to grab hold.

But the material was stretched too tightly for her fingers to grip and terrified, she waved her hand in the air. Desperate now to get hold of something, anything that would pull this suffocating weight from her head. But there was nothing to get hold of and struggling to breathe, she inhaled nothing but warm fabric, the idea that she might be about to die screaming through her head as she kicked out again and something huge and heavy suddenly crashed down across the whole of her body. Squeezing the last of the air from her lungs as her mouth opened in surprise and Isobel pressed harder and harder. Her face set with grim determination as she waited for Carrie Shilling to finally stop struggling.

Humming a tune to herself, Andrea checked the very last room- just to make sure- and closed the door behind her. Then, pleased that she would soon be safely tucked up in bed alongside Carrie, made her way back along the landing and towards their bedroom.

Baring her teeth, Isobel Pearce silently cried her victory.

Finally the bitch beneath her was beginning to give in. Just a few seconds more and it would all be over.

She could hardly wait. With the bitch dead, everything would be so much better. No more being on her own.

No more lying in an empty bed wishing she was beside her. No more money worries. No more getting up early and going to a stupid, fuckin' job to deal with stupid, fuckin' people. All that would be gone forever and she could finally spend her days doing what she wanted to do. Like being with the woman she loved.

Softened by the idea, she gazed almost compassionately at the form struggling for life beneath her and all at once her murderous hands became nothing more sinister than the hands of a mother tucking her child in for the night.

“There, there.”She crooned as Carrie began to slip away. “All be over soon. Just go to sleep and forget about everything. There's a good girl.”

“What the....!

...fuck!”

In the doorway, Andrea stared in horror, not quite able to believe what she was seeing.

But then Isobel looked up and she saw what was happening and with a yell of rage she sprang forward. Giving Isobel no time to react as she raised the torch high and brought it down hard and fast. The bulb end connecting squarely with Isobel's head and making a horrible hollow sound as the glass lens shattered and Isobel tumbled off the bed, taking the duvet with her.

And there lay Carrie. Still and unresponsive. No word of protest coming from her lips as Andrea leapt on the bed and roughly shook her by the shoulders.

Hoping for something, anything that would indicate Carrie was okay, but getting nothing but silence. Her frantic shaking and calling of Carrie's name greeted with nothing but Carrie's head, lolling bonelessly on a neck that no longer held any strength.

Desperately, she tried artificial respiration. Trying to ignore the fact that Carrie's lips felt worryingly cool against her own as she blew in three, full breaths and reached down to her chest to began the compressions.

Her body flaccid beneath her own as she checked for signs of breath, found none and started again. Her face set into grim, hard lines. Determined she wouldn't think the worst. Determined not to cry as huge tears rolled down her cheeks anyway and dripped onto Carrie's neck.

Both their ears deaf to the scream.

As Isobel, blood streaming from a cut to the side of her head, yelled her rage and scrambled to her feet. Launching herself at Andrea's back and digging her fingers into Andrea's hair as she savagely yanked back her head and exposed her throat. Her other hand quickly snaking round to grab her by the neck and start to squeeze. Cutting off Andrea's air as Andrea struggled to kneel upright then thrust herself violently backward. Taking Isobel with her as they both tumbled off the end of the bed and Andrea landed heavily on Isobel. Pushing all the air out of her lungs as Andrea scrambled to her feet, grabbed the torch and smashed it straight into Isobel's mouth, causing blood and fragments of teeth to explode from her lips and splatter the carpet as her eyes rolled back into her head and she slipped into unconsciousness.

So cold he could no longer feel his feet, Carmichael shivered at the front door and watched as the pulsing blue light from the ambulance pushed its way through the billowing, white tunnel and came to halt in front of the house.

Then, shouting directions, he waved the paramedics through, hardly noticing as the two men, dressed in green jumpsuits and carrying resuscitation equipment, nodded in return before rushing past him and up the stairs, yelling behind them that the police were on their way.

They waited in the kitchen. In dark, empty silence.

Amanda, roused from her bed by a barely coherent Carmichael, tried to comfort Andrea as best she could, but deep down she knew there was nothing she could either say or do that would make any difference.

Carmichael, meanwhile, sober again and unsurprised to find himself that way, tried praying to a God he hadn't spoken to in years. But the words wouldn't come and after a while he gave up and went to put the kettle on. Certain that no one would want the tea he made but needing to do something other than just sit.

Andrea simply cried, and huddled inside Amanda's arms blamed herself.

“It's all my fault.”She said. “If only I hadn't wasted so much time checking the house and just gone to bed with Carrie, none of this would have happened.”

Carmichael disagreed. “You can't know that for sure.”He said. “And you can't start blaming yourself. None of this was your fault.”

“But... I should have checked the upstairs first!”

“Why? There was no reason to. Brian had told you his guys had already looked there, so it was common sense to check downstairs first. I would have done the same thing.”

“But..”

“But nothing! Listen to me Andrea. You did the right thing! As far as you were concerned, upstairs was safe. I was sleeping up there for Christ's sake! Checking downstairs was the obvious choice. So stop blaming yourself!”

The door to the kitchen squeaked open and as one they turned. The strain showing on each of their faces as the younger of the two paramedics stuck his head through and smiled thinly. “We've got a pulse!”He said. “Took a while to get her back, but we got there in the end.”

“You mean she's alive?”Andrea said. “Carrie's still alive?”

“Yes, she's still alive, but she's very weak. We're taking her to St. Anne's now if you want to come along? And well done by the way. If you hadn't been so quick off the mark I doubt if she would have been so lucky.”

“What about the other one?”Carmichael asked. “The one who attacked Carrie? How's she?”

“Got a nasty crack to the head but we reckon she'll be okay. We're taking her to St Anne's as well. The police will no doubt want to talk to her at some point and I'm afraid, you as well probably.”

Carmichael nodded and seeing Andrea pale, reached for her hand. “It's okay.”He said. “I'll deal with them. You just get yourself over to the hospital, and don't worry! I 'll make damn sure they know you were acting in self defence.”

Left alone in the house, Carmichael and Amanda sat in the kitchen drinking tea. Relieved that Carrie would be okay, but still too wound up to go to bed, they sat in silence. Listening to the clock tick away the seconds and waiting for the police to arrive.

The sound of the doorbell made them both jump.

Carmichael went to answer it.

But instead of the police, a tired and scruffy looking reporter, who'd clearly been hauled from his bed, stood on the doorstep. His dictaphone thrust into Carmichael's face the moment he stepped out onto the porch.

“Is it true Carrie's been taken to the hospital?”He asked without preamble.