Ben needed to play the psychiatrist suddenly. ‘There are good people as well as bad. Surely you realise that? This isn’t the way to right the wrongs in our world. It’s not the time. My family and I, we’ve been caught up in this mess, we didn’t ask to be here, we don’t know you.’
‘You’re right. But it’s destiny. Our paths were meant to cross. I can’t do this alone. It’s a shame for you that you came along when you did but that’s the way it goes sometimes, and now, you and your family are going to help. You’re a part of it you see? I’ve planned this for so long. People need to pay for their sins, to replenish, wallow in the fountain, cleanse, to be reborn.’
Ben hesitated. ‘You’re not making any sense.’ He jabbed the brake, turning the steering wheel, then sped along the country lane.
‘You need to go faster. Before the night’s out, you’ll get me. You’ll understand. I promise you that. The passengers on the coach, the sinners, they’ll all be sorry for what they’ve done. Believe me.’ Suddenly, the guy shouted, ‘Stop.’
Ben hit the brakes.
‘Your young friend, he left a woman to die in the woods. Now, you have the chance to save him.’
Ben wiped the bead of sweat which had trickled down the side of his face, causing his nose to itch. ‘How so?’ The full lights illuminated the stretch of road. Ben could hear heavy breaths, like the caller was moving fast, running along the road.
‘Put the car in reverse and hit the accelerator. It’s a long road; you can build speed.’
‘No, I’m not doing it.’
‘Then you leave me little choice.’
Ben waited. He knew this guy was serious. He wasn’t willing to wait or bargain. ‘Okay. I’ll do it. What happens then?’
‘Just drive.’
Ben braced himself, eyeing the bleak darkness either side of where he sat. He grappled with the gearstick and pressed his foot on the accelerator. The car picked up speed.
‘Faster.’
‘I can’t go any faster. The speed has to accumulate.’
‘Faster, I said.’
‘For Christ’s sake, I’m doing my best.’ Ben watched his speedometer, eighteen, twenty, twenty-three. It was building fast. He fought with the steering wheel, ripping it left and right, jabbing the brake, his head turned as he struggled to look out of the back window, the car swerving. Twenty-five, twenty-seven. ‘That’s it; I can’t do this. I’ll crash. It’s too dangerous.’ Suddenly he heard a crack, something snapped. Ben hit the brakes. He shouted. ‘Stephen.’ Ben grabbed the torch and the phone which he’d placed on the passenger seat and opened the driver’s door.
The phone disconnected.
Ben stood for a moment, then turned behind him. He was back where he’d started, the coach was a little further up the path. He shone the torch on the ground; his mind flashed images of the young lad lying on the road, his legs mangled, his body crushed. Blood flowing along the tarmac like a stream. ‘Hello. Stephen. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ Ben jogged away from the car and along the road towards the coach. He swung the torch side to side; then he saw something on the ground – a sandbag the size of a large pillow which the caller had thrown. Ben crouched, lifting it, then hurled it into the field to his right.
‘I’m okay. I’m alive.’ Ben heard Stephen’s voice in the distance. ‘When you drove I carried on running along the path. I saw you reversing so I stopped,’ Stephen said.
He looked to where the young lad was standing. The full lights of his car bringing the tall, gangly figure into view as Stephen stepped onto the road.
‘Thank God. I thought I’d hit you. Are you okay?’
‘Yes. Fine. I’m sorry you had to go through that, Ben. He’s playing with us. A torment he’s not going to stop. I watched the fear as you thought you’d hit me. He’s making us play out the mistakes we’ve made. I’m going to run for it. I’m young. I can make it.’
Ben was instantly agitated. ‘Don’t do it. Don’t be so selfish. You’ll get us all killed. Do you hear me?’
‘Sorry, mate. You’re on your own. I’m getting out of here. Good luck, to you and your family, I mean.’
‘Stephen, don’t do this to us. I’m begging you not to do this.’
‘He has our phones. If I make it, I’ll get help. I’ll make a call as soon as I can. As soon as I’m out of here. I promise. Be safe, mate. The best of luck to you all.’
‘No, Stephen. Look out!’
The caller was now in the driver’s seat of Ben’s car and it started moving, gaining speed, racing towards where Stephen was standing.
10
Lydia and Jack
Lydia stood in the hall of Chloe’s house, the body of her husband’s boss at her feet. The courage the three bottles of wine had given her had evaporated, as if shock had driven the alcohol from her body.
She was startled by a thumping on the front door. She crept forward, placing her ear to the wood. ‘Is that you, Jack?’ She’d managed to get through to her husband and explain what had happened.
‘Yes. Open the door.’
She slowly twisted the lock down to let him in.
Jack wore a coat and had the sleeves pulled over his fists, making sure he didn’t leave any fingerprints. ‘Christ, Lydia. What the fuck have you done to Chloe?’
Lydia was babbling; she stood on her tiptoes, her eyes unfocused, her mind confused. ‘I thought – I saw you and assumed – I didn’t mean to kill her. I shoved her, thinking you and her were, you know, an item.’
Jack looked past his wife, seeing his boss lying on the floor. The blood had covered one of the small square tiles and was working its way to the next one.
‘You’re not going to tell anyone, are you? I’ll go away for life. Please tell me, Jack, that you won’t say anything?’
Jack covered his hand with his sleeve and reached forward, awkwardly pressing his fingers through his jacket to feel the side of Chloe’s neck. He stood, then grabbed his wife. ‘You’ve murdered her. She’s not going to recover, Lydia. She’s not going to regain consciousness, sit up, brush herself down and tell you she’s okay. You understand that, right?’
Lydia backed away, then steered her eyes towards Chloe. It suddenly dawned on her. She fell to her knees, pulling clumps of her hair.
Jack moved beside her. ‘Find a mop, something, anything to get rid of this blood. We’ll have to carry the body out – you and me. Where else have you been? Think, Lydia. Where else did you go in the house?’ Jack asked.
She froze, unable to think.
‘Lydia, concentrate. Who saw you?’ Jack raised his voice to get his wife’s attention.
‘Erm, the taxi driver.’
‘Did you say anything to him?’
Lydia thought for a second. ‘I don’t think so. I just told him where to go. That’s it.’
‘How did you know where she lives?’ Jack asked.
‘Well, I saw you drinking together. I waited outside the pub. She came out, jumped in a taxi. I jumped in another a few seconds later and followed.’