Chapter Nineteen

Christmas Eve, Late Afternoon

Drew slumped back against the wall of the hut, staring through the open door. The light was just beginning to fade, but he could see the pale trunks of trees and scrubby undergrowth beneath. The woman and the little girl had hiked back into the wood, to find their car. There must be some sort of track that the locals use. The two men who brought him here had known about it, or been told. His tired brain turned the thought over, but it wasn’t much help. He knew Mr Right and Lefty were Londoners. The accents gave it away. They weren’t from around here, wherever here was.

Wearily Drew pushed his hair away from his face. Now that rescue was in sight, he felt floppy and lifeless, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. With an effort he pulled himself upright, wincing as his torn fingers scraped on the bench. The dark was gathering, the outline of the trees becoming less distinct. He couldn’t see or hear any sign of the woman. He took a sharp breath, over a tiny spurt of panic. How long did it take to locate a screwdriver? Maybe even now she was getting in the car to drive away. It’s what you told her to do.

Would she just go and leave him here?

Relief made him light-headed again when he saw the beam of light picking its way through the trees. She’d got a torch as well as the screwdriver. She paused on the threshold, looking in.

‘‘Still here.’ He dredged up the feeble attempt at humour, aware of the strain in his voice. ‘Where’s your sidekick?’

‘Misty?’ She stepped into the hut. ‘Sitting just outside on a tree stump and pretending to be a Christmas elf. Apparently, Christmas elves sing.’ She put the torch, a heavy-duty affair, down on the bench. Now Drew could hear the high-pitched treble coming from outside the hut. He couldn’t make out words, but the tune sounded vaguely familiar.

‘She says you’re not Jesus, by the way. And you smell.’ There was a hint of amusement in the voice.

‘True, on both counts,’ he admitted. ‘Jesus?’

‘Whistle Down the Wind. Her grandmother is into vintage films.’

Drew nodded, as if he understood. Maybe he was hallucinating. Could you hallucinate a woman brandishing a very business-like electric screwdriver? ‘Sorry about the smell.’

She smelled rather good, as she leaned over to unscrew the chain. Cinnamon, with some sort of citrus undertone.

‘No problem.’ She was fiddling with the light. ‘You’re going to have to hold this, I need to see better.’ He held out his hand and she put the torch into it, illuminating the blood on his fingers. There was a small in-drawn breath. ‘You tried to free it with your bare hands!’

‘Desperation.’ No point in hiding it. He pointed the beam and the screwdriver buzzed into action on the fastenings holding the chain to the wall strut. ‘Do you always travel with a loaded screwdriver?’

‘I’ve been doing a bit of DIY lately.’ The first two screws fell out and the hasp sagged away from the wall. She tilted her head listening, the elf was still singing gustily. ‘I don’t like Misty being out there when it’s beginning to get dark, but she didn’t want to come in.’

‘I can’t say I blame her.’

Straightening up she moved quickly over to the door of the hut, looking out. Drew could see a light and the outline of a small shape near the trees. The child waved and his rescuer came back, quickly fitting the screwdriver into the next screw head. ‘Thank goodness these seem to be coming out easily.’ Another screw dropped. ‘I’m Lori, by the way.’

‘Thank you, Lori.’ The hasp clattered onto the bench as the last screw lifted out. ‘Thank you.’ Drew put down the light and reeled in the chain and fastening, fumbling to wrap it around his wrist. He was stuck with the cuff and chain, but he was free. And without conscious thought, he’d made a decision. He wasn’t dragging his rescuers into this mess. ‘You go now, back to … Misty? If you just point me in the direction of the main road—’

‘What?’ She was storing the screwdriver in some sort of holster. Her head jerked up to look at him. ‘We can’t leave you here. You need medical attention—’

‘No!’ He’d managed to wrap the length of chain around his wrist and wedged the wall fastening in the cuff, to hold it. ‘I don’t want to involve you and the child in this.’

‘And I’m supposed to just drive away and leave you here?’ The light from the torch was strong enough for him to see her eyes narrow. ‘Do you even know where you are?’

‘Um …’ Oh hell. ‘No?’

‘Ufff.’ The noise was exasperated, low-pitched and rather cute. She’d grabbed the light and his arm and was towing him out of the hut. He didn’t have the energy to fight her off, but he was going to have to try. ‘Please, Lori, I can’t—’

‘Yes. You can.’ She navigated them over the threshold. He stumbled and almost fell into her, then righted himself. His legs were disturbingly unsteady, now that he was trying to use them. ‘It’s Christmas Eve, it’s getting dark and you’re in the middle of the Brecon Beacons.’

‘Ahhh!’ Heart definitely sinking, he still tried to dig in his heels and free his arm, but she wasn’t having any of it.

Wimp.

Misty was dancing around the tree stump now, waving a small torch. She ran up, wide-eyed, when they emerged from the hut. ‘Off you go, Madam Elf.’ Lori nodded to the path through the trees. ‘You can lead the way back to the car. Don’t fall over.’

The child turned and headed for the path, still singing, lighting her way with the torch beam.

The ground was uneven, sloping down into the trees. Lori was breathing heavily with the effort of keeping them both upright. Shaking his head to clear it, he concentrated on keeping his feet moving and his weight off her as far as possible. And tried again. ‘I don’t want—’

‘Look.’ She flipped her hair out of her eyes. ‘I get that there’s something going on here that is beyond a joke. Way beyond – and I appreciate that you’re trying to keep me and Misty out of it, but you really can’t stay here. I’m not leaving you wandering about on the hillside alone. Come home with us now, so we can sort it out. Or if you really don’t want to do that, as soon as we get somewhere with a decent phone signal, we can phone the police to come and pick you up.’ They’d reached a narrow track through the trees. She kept pulling him forward. ‘You know they have an appeal out for information on you?’ she added conversationally.

‘Shit.’ Drew shut his eyes, swaying slightly and breathing heavily. He opened his eyes rapidly again when he tangled with a trailing bramble and nearly fell. Shades of his journey with Mr Right and Lefty. Briefly his stomach heaved. He fought the nausea, trying to order his thoughts. He should have been ready for this, but who the hell expected to be rescued by a woman with a kid in tow? A deep instinct to keep them both well away from the whole sordid mess was coagulating in his gut, along with the totally stupid but equally strong impulse to deal with the whole thing himself. With a little help from a friend.

A small surge of anger powered him to stand straighter. He wanted answers, and he wanted to look someone in the eye while he got them. The police would have to be involved eventually, but he didn’t want to wait meekly while they investigated. He’d done enough helpless waiting, chained in that bloody hut. Now he was free …

His stomach gave another queasy heave and the brief power surge faded. His legs, stumbling over the uneven terrain, had the texture of wet cotton wool. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to talk to the police tonight, even if he wanted to. And after the police, will the press be far behind?

He swallowed. He needed time to get a handle on this mess. ‘This thing …’ he said softly. ‘I don’t really think it was a joke. I think it was … malicious, but I don’t want the police … um … I’m not sure I can face them tonight, anyway.’

He heard her inhale. Which was not surprising, as she was more or less carrying him along the path. ‘Do you have to? Can it wait until the morning, if you contact your family tonight?’

Ahead of them he could see the bulky shape of the car parked under the trees, with the little girl standing beside it, waiting for them. Thank you, God.

He shook his head. ‘No family.’ She was offering him the chance of warmth, light, food and drink, maybe a shower. So much for the bad-ass action man.

Would it matter if this was kept quiet for another twelve hours or so? Until he could call up his cavalry and start the process of kicking ass and taking names? It wasn’t as if there was anyone who loved him who would be worrying. And no expensive search parties scouring the hills either, when no one had any idea which hills. He caved in. ‘Until the morning.’

‘Fine,’ she acknowledged briskly. ‘Things always look better in daylight.’