Ben pushed the door; the loud creak grated his ears. It was stiff, jammed on the mud below. Ben shoved hard, pressing his body to get inside. He held the door for Edward who followed. A dim bulb hanging on an old, flimsy electrical cord in the middle of the barn provided adequate light.
‘Nigel, are you here? I’m with your father. My name’s Ben and we are helping your family and the others. Your mum and dad are okay. So is Abigail.’ Ben shone the light towards the back of the barn. Hay was scattered across the floor, and there was a smell of manure. A small wooden trailer sat in the middle.
‘Nigel, it’s your father. Are you in here?’
A figure appeared from the balcony which ran across the right side of the barn, reached via a wooden ladder with slim rungs. The person was standing at the front towards the railings and looked down towards the two men. Ben shone the light to where he stood. He noticed a man standing still, looking dishevelled. His shirt was ripped, his hands bloody and he had the sawn-off shotgun by his side.
‘Dad. Thank God!’ Nigel called out. ‘Where’s Mum?’
‘Your mother is fine. She’s coping. Abigail too. We’re here to get you out.’
Nigel climbed down the small ladder which sounded as if it could crack in half at any second. When he reached the ground, he moved towards his father and dropped the gun to the floor. He lifted his arms, holding his dad tightly, wincing with the pain.
Edward stood back. ‘My God, what did he do to you?’
Nigel shot a look at Ben. He placed his hand out, shaking it and introducing himself. ‘Nigel, good to meet you, although I wish it were different circumstances.’
‘You and me both,’ Ben answered.
Nigel recalled his version of events. ‘The guy came to our house. He kidnapped us at gunpoint. Placed us on the coach and tied us to the seats, gagging our mouths tightly so we couldn’t speak or call for help. It all happened so quickly. One minute we were preparing dinner, Abigail and me, the next, we were marched onto the coach. There were others too. I thought he wanted a ransom. I thought you’d pay him, Dad, and that would be that. He drove, with everyone strapped tightly to the seats and parked at the back of a driveway, out of view. He left us overnight. People soiled themselves, Ben. The smell… We were vulnerable. It was early the next morning, a guy climbed onto the coach and got in the driver’s seat. He didn’t look at anyone. He just drove.
‘The next thing we knew, a man stopped us out here, waving a shotgun in our faces. He marched us along the road and put me in here, tying me up. I don’t know what he did with the others. He came back a while after, sticking the gun in my mouth. I thought he was going to kill me. I was scared, shitting myself. I tried to wrestle the gun from him, and he grabbed a large knife from his trousers.’ Nigel lifted his bloodstained hands and showed the cuts. ‘Needless to say, I came off worse. The stupid thing is, when I came around, he’d left the gun.’
The phone rang.
Edward braced himself.
Ben answered. ‘Hello.’
‘I’ll be listening. Don’t hang up.’
Nigel darted a confused look between Ben and his dad. ‘That’s him. That’s his voice. What the hell is going on here?’ Nigel reached for the shotgun, gripping it in his right hand. He lifted it and pointed the barrel over the room; his eyes were wide open, the fear evident on his face.
‘Nigel, we need to talk,’ Edward stated.
‘What’s happened? Is Mum okay?’
‘Yes. As I’ve stated, your mother is fine.’
‘Abigail? Has something happened to her?’
‘No. She’s fine too. Everyone is fine,’ Edward answered.
The room fell silent; a sense of gloom rose in the air. Edward watched his son drop the gun to his side, resting the length against his hip.
Ben knew it was an illegal weapon, created by cutting off the barrel to make it shorter and easier to conceal. It seemed its main objective was to kill people.
Edward spoke to his son. ‘Nigel, what I have to tell you can’t wait. You need to listen. I beg you not to judge the man standing in front of you. I, your father. The person who, along with your mother, moulded you into the man you are today.’
Ben noted the clever tactics Edward was using. He glanced at Nigel’s right hand, at his finger curled around the trigger.
‘What’s going on, Dad?’
‘Nigel, I say this with embarrassment. With downright shame of what I’ve done to you, your mother and Abigail.’
Nigel glanced towards Ben, then back to his father. He was confused, trying to understand why they weren’t leaving the barn and why the person who abducted him had been talking on the phone.
‘I want you to know I love you. I love my family. I’d do anything for you and your mum.’
‘I know that. You’re scaring me. What’s happened?’ Nigel brought his left hand to the top of his head, preparing for what his father had to say. His deep brown eyes were becoming glazed. His body was tense, his face strained.
Edward took a deep breath, then glanced at Ben, who nodded as if to offer some encouragement. ‘I’ve done some terrible things. I’m ashamed as I stand here before you. You recently split with Abigail. Your mother and me, we were devastated. Mary took it bad. She didn’t trust Abigail; she said she led you on, that she was no good for you, that you deserved better. Well, she’s been having an affair. With me.’
The atmosphere in the barn dropped like a brick from a ten-storey building.
The shotgun fell from Nigel’s hand. His body was trembling as he dealt with the shock of what his father had told him. He went to speak, but nothing came from his mouth.
Edward’s eyes never left his son’s. He was trying to read his next move and anticipate the result of what he’d just delivered.
Ben stood, holding the phone, expecting the caller to burst into laughter.
Suddenly Nigel clasped the sides of his head with his hands, banging them against his temples. He murmured something, then gained the control to speak. ‘I don’t believe you. Abigail would never – you wouldn’t do this. The two of you… You wouldn’t.’
‘I’m afraid it’s true. It was my doing. Abigail called me one evening. Your mother was out at a church meeting; you were at the pub with a friend. She was in a state, crying down the phone. She said she’d never loved anyone like she loved you. She wanted it to work out, for you both to get back together. I tried to comfort her; I told her to give it time. The more she spoke, the more desperate she sounded.
‘I got in the jeep and drove over to her place. When I arrived, she greeted me at the door. She spoke, I listened. I got up to go when she’d calmed down. I assured her you’d both be okay, that things would work out. As I went to leave, she offered me a drink. You have to believe that’s all I intended – the one drink, offering a little company. Yes, if I’m honest, I find her attractive. What man wouldn’t? But she was my daughter-in-law. My son’s wife. There are boundaries. We sat on the sofa. Abigail told me how much she thought of your mother and me. How much she wanted her marriage to work. She was envious. Can you believe that?
‘As I stood to go, she moved close to where I was standing. She placed her arms around my waist, thanking me for listening, for being there. I held her; I pulled her closer.