ROB

ANTHONY TRIED TO WARN me, frantically shaking his head from side to side, muffled noises coming from behind his gag.

I turned but too late. Edward was already on me. He moved very quietly for a man his size and age. He got his hands on my shoulders and shoved me violently forwards, my head smacking into the boot of the car. I bounced off, seeing nothing but white light. I felt hands on me again and lashed out blindly, the knife gripped tightly in my hand, hoping to catch him with it.

I felt a tug as the knife came free from my fingers at the same time as Edward yelled in pain. I blinked and my vision came back, the knife was wedged in the back of his hand.

I twisted away from him and began to run, hoping he'd follow me. He probably thought I was running for my life and in many ways I was, just not in the manner he expected.

I made it to the treeline with him close behind. Glancing back I saw him pull the knife free, waving it in the air as he came crashing after me.

My original plan had been to get back to the car but I couldn't leave Anthony behind, bound like that, unable to escape. Nor could I phone home and tell Hope to get out of the house, he'd hear me. That would have to wait.

I made all the noise I could along the trail back to the road before suddenly dipping to the left, squatting down and waiting for my breathing to slow. I heard him coming past, thinking he was still following me.

Once he was a few yards past, I doubled back through the trees, moving as quietly as I could. I stepped back out into the clearing by the house shortly afterwards, running over to the boot which was still open.

Anthony was trying his best to climb out of it and when he saw me, his eyes widened in surprise.

I got hold of him and hefted him out of the car, tugging his gag from his mouth. "Can you walk?" I asked as I fiddled with the knots around his ankles.

He retched twice before spitting, then answered, "Yes."

It was a single word but it summed him up. No complaining, just to the point as ever.

"We need to be ready for when he comes back," I said. "Here, round the side of the car."

We crouched down together, me peering round the edge of the boot to watch the treeline, ready for when he worked out he'd been duped.

Anthony sounded like he was about to say something but then he fell silent, the sound of a twig snapping warning us that Edward was on his way back.

He emerged a second later, coming over to the car, knife still in his hand. He looked into the boot and saw that it was empty, rage crossing his features.

He ran to the driver's door and pulled it open, turning over the engine and slamming his foot down on the accelerator. The wheels spun but the car went nowhere, just sinking deeper into the mud. He swore loudly and climbed out, moved around to the boot again. As he reached in for something, I leapt up, slamming the boot down onto his hands.

He screamed in pain, his other hand sweeping through the air, trying to catch me with his clenched fist. I leapt back in time for the blow to pass harmlessly in front of my face. As momentum twisted him, I got in a swift punch to his face, stunning him.

Another punch silenced him and as it caught his chin, he slumped forwards against the boot, falling still.

I watched him for a few seconds to be sure before moving around the car as Anthony stood up. "Keep an eye on him," I said, leaning into the driver's side and finding the button that opened the boot. I hit it and the boot swung upwards, Edward rolling back and then collapsing on the floor. My hand was already beginning to sting from striking his jaw and I had a headache that was getting worse with each passing second but I refused to stop, not until I knew Hope was safe.

"Reckon you can handle him?" I asked, looking at Anthony.

"The fucking idiot didn't even take my phone off me," he replied, pulling it out of his pocket, wincing as he did so.

"You stay with him then. I'll go get Hope."

He nodded and I set off, sprinting back to my car, trying to ring her at the same time. "Pick up, pick up," I said, wondering if she thought she was supposed to ignore the house phone when it rang. Where was she?

I kept trying to ring her and by the time I thought to ring the police, the battery had died, leaving me to swear loudly as I raced along the road, cursing my lack of forethought. Why didn't I have a charger in the car? I was a fucking idiot.

I got to the cottage after a drive that seemed to take forever, calling out her name. There was no response but I saw a figure in the upstairs window. I shoved open the front door and ran inside, taking the stairs two at a time.

"We need to get you out of here," I said, coming to an abrupt halt as the figure turned to face me.

"I’m not going anywhere,” the man replied. “Where is she?" He took a step towards me. He was clearly Edward's son, the family resemblance was uncanny. But where Edward had managed to plaster on a calm, neutral expression, this man's face was contorted with bitterness. "Where is she?" he asked, hurling himself towards me.

I twisted to one side just in time and he slammed into the wall behind me. The wall creaked, not used to that kind of punishment. He turned to face me again as I backed slowly across the room, trying to put some space between us.

"Last chance," he said. "Where's my wife?"

"Somewhere you'll never find her," I replied, watching fury boil over in his expression. I hoped I was telling the truth, he was someone I wanted as far away from her as I could get him. I couldn’t tell him I had no idea where she was.

He ran at me with his head down and I held my ground, watching him come on, waiting for the right moment to make my move.

Just before his head struck my stomach, I leapt sideways onto the bed. He kept moving forwards, unable to turn or slow in time. A second later he struck the feeble single glazed window, slamming through it with the shatter of glass echoing loudly around the room.

He looked back at me in disbelief as he fell and I froze in place, listening for the thud of him hitting the ground below. It didn’t come.

There was a piercing shriek of agony from outside and then a gurgle and I crossed to the window slowly, not wanting to see but needing to see at the same time.

I looked out and blinked slowly. It was hard to take in. He'd caught his neck on the edge of one of the iron railings in the garden, his body held up like a scarecrow, his arms limp, his head slumped downwards. He didn't make another sound. The birds didn't sing either, as if frightened away by his dying shriek. Then there was nothing but silence.