Chapter Twenty

Christmas Eve, Early Evening

The place looked like fairyland.

Maybe he was hallucinating now.

He remembered a book tour through Scandinavia at New Year. The car had turned a corner and in front of them was this whole town, spread out over a hillside, and every house with candles lit in the windows. That’s what this looked like – the indoor version. He’d stepped through the front door into a tall space, full of twinkling lights.

And blissful warmth, and the scent of cinnamon.

The child, Misty, scooted past him to wrap her arms around a very large white and ginger cat who jumped down from a chair to greet her. She’d bombarded him with chatter in the car, most of which had simply washed over him, as he struggled to keep focused on his surroundings through a buzzing head. An occasional grunt in response seemed to satisfy her, in between grateful gulps from a water bottle Lori had produced from a bag in the back. He’d demolished a chocolate bar that she’d handed him too, then felt nauseous again from the sugar rush. At least that, and listening to Misty, kept you from falling asleep. And you found out there was no daddy waiting at home. He was apparently in America.

Realisation hadn’t hit him, until he was crawling into the car. In caving in so pathetically to the promise of a night to get himself together, he hadn’t thought that he might be bringing trouble along with him They hadn’t seen another car until they were well away from the hut and there was no sign that they’d been followed. Which helped him to breathe a little easier. Now he appeared to have been demoted. Misty had lost interest in him when she could have the cat. Lori shut the door behind them, pulling off her boots.

‘Shower?’

‘God. Yes, please.’

She was moving around, lighting oil lamps and real candles, not just the L.E.D. ones. That was the source of the scent.

‘Bathroom is upstairs.’ She nodded to the staircase that ran up to a gallery. ‘I think I can find you some clothes.’

‘That would be … very kind.’

She tilted her head to look at him, clearly decided that he wasn’t firing on all cylinders – too true – and began herding him gently towards the staircase. He reached the top by an effort of will. The chain at his wrist came lose as he stepped onto the landing, clanking against the banister. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why should you be?’ She was frowning as he gathered it up. ‘Maybe we can fix it somehow.’ She showed him the bathroom, turning on yet more lamps, then left him, shutting the door with a soft clunk.

The clunk echoed around his brain.

He spun and opened the door again. She was part of the way down the landing, towards what were presumably bedrooms. ‘Lori.’

She turned, stepping into the light of a large lamp at the top of the stairs, and he at last got a proper look at her. Nearly as tall as he was, slim, he guessed, under narrow jeans and what appeared to be several sweaters. Her hair was dark blonde, curling loosely around her face. Big eyes, perfect skin. Lovely. The word whispered in his head.

‘I …’ He put up his hands, fingers spread, not quite sure what he was trying to say. Protect. You have to protect them. ‘Forget the police, I’ll just get out of here in the morning.’ He shook his head as she opened her mouth to speak. ‘I know it’s Christmas day – it doesn’t matter. It’s better this way. I’d be grateful then if you’d keep quiet about all of it. I … I’ll sort it out.’ He knew exactly who he’d call for help. Not the police. Not yet. Someone who would do his digging without drawing attention. He’d have to have a story for all this, but something would come, when his brain was functioning properly again. Hell, you’re a writer. You tell lies and earn money for it.

He wasn’t so out of it that he hadn’t figured out a few things. He didn’t think it was going to happen, but just in case …

‘If by any chance someone comes looking for me tonight, I’ll leave with them – just treat the whole thing as a joke. Go along with whatever they say.’

She was looking coolly at him. ‘Do you think we are in danger?’ Her eyes darkened. ‘Misty—’

‘No. I don’t believe there’s any real threat,’ he hurried to interrupt. ‘I don’t think anyone will come looking, but if they do … Just let them take me, okay?’

‘Okay.’ She looked doubtfully at him. ‘Should we be calling the police tonight?’

Suddenly he felt unbearably tired. ‘Maybe. I don’t want to … but I really don’t know.’ He put his hand up to his face. His skin felt strange and stiff. ‘I can’t think straight, or not straight enough.’ He leaned against the door jamb. ‘You know about the kidnapping stunt, for charity?’ She nodded, without speaking. ‘Well, someone made it for real. Someone wanted to … hurt me. I don’t know who. It was meant to look like a joke gone wrong. That’s what it’s going to look like to the police too. Whoever it was … I don’t think they’d harm anyone else.’

‘But you can’t be sure.’

‘No. Which is why I’ll be gone in the morning. I promise.’

She thought about it. ‘That will do.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m sorry. About all this.’

He huffed out a breath. ‘So am I.’ They stood for a moment, just looking at each other. With an effort of will he turned back into the bathroom.

‘Mr Vitruvius …’

‘Drew.’ He swung to face her again. ‘My friends call me Drew.’

‘Right.’ She nodded ‘Drew.’ She gestured over her shoulder. ‘When you’ve finished in the bathroom, you can use the bedroom along there.’ She waved her hand. ‘I’ll go and make up the bed and see about those clothes. I’ll leave them here, outside the door.’

When she turned and walked away he stood for a moment, looking after her, not wanting her to leave.

Back view is as good as the front.

He gave a self-disgusted snort, shoved open the bathroom door and came face-to-face with himself in the mirror. Wreck didn’t come near it.

Zombie might.

Dirt, bruises, bloodshot eyes, four days of beard growth. His hand half mangled. He looked down at it. As he thought, he’d all but ripped off one of the nails in his attempts to get free.

He stared at his reflection. It didn’t matter how lovely Lori was, nothing was going to happen.

The pull of desire he’d experienced on the landing had taken him by surprise. He wouldn’t have expected to have the energy.

Which proves something about the human male.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what.

And she wouldn’t be looking twice at you, mate, even if she wasn’t already with someone else.

He put up his hands, scrubbing the heels into his eyes, and nearly knocked out a tooth with the end of the chain. He was an asshole, thinking what he’d been thinking, when there was a chance he’d brought a threat into this tranquil house.

How bad was it? He tried to order his thoughts as he started to strip off his soiled clothes. He couldn’t imagine that anyone was watching the hut to make sure he didn’t get away, although there might have been a camera in the woods. The thought sent a cold spike down his spine. He shook his head. No – if they’d been watching, someone would have been banging on the door by now.

The thought steadied him.

The whole thing was much more casual than that. From the outside it was meant to look like he’d either organised it himself for more publicity – he shuddered at the thought – or that someone had played a practical joke on him. Either way it was intended to appear that somehow everything had gone disastrously wrong. He’d reached that conclusion during all those hours in the hut. He’d wondered too what sort of spin Philmore had managed to put on it. He’d have found something. The man was a master.

But if anyone else became involved, it would be a whole different ball game.

His gut told him he was meant to die there, despite the debate between Mr Right and Lefty. An ‘accident’ was one thing. He couldn’t see either man going in for wholesale murder. But whoever was behind them …

His gut twisted again. Had he brought trouble here, to a woman who’d only tried to help him? A woman with a child.

He really should get out now.

He leaned one hand against the wall. Instinct told him that if he attempted to leave, his hostess would hunt him down. Never argue with a woman who packs a loaded screwdriver. If he got cleaned up, then maybe he could sneak away later, after Lori and Misty were asleep? He lurched towards the shower, hoping that hot water would make his brain work faster.

Outside the wind was picking up. A soft flake of white spiralled down and settled on the cold ground on the shadowy side of the barn.

Then another.

And another.