Underneath, three letters ran along Andrew’s chin, etched with a black marker. The word WIN.
‘I’m sorry, Lydia. I’m sorry you had to see this. We need to get out of here. Come on.’
Lydia was crying; her top was soaked in bile. She started rocking. ‘No. No. Why is he doing this? Why?’
‘Lydia, you need to stand up. We have to go. The passengers are in danger.’ Ben placed his hand on Lydia’s, slowly lifting her to her feet, moving his arms around her waist for support.
‘I want Jack. I can’t go on without him.’ Again, she yelled, throwing her head onto Ben’s shoulder. She stayed like that until she had no more energy to cry.
As they reached the front door and stepped outside of the barn, they heard the caller’s voice. He’d been quiet for so long.
‘Well done. You should be extremely proud, Lydia. I understand you picked the correct box. I heard everything.’
Ben lifted the phone to his mouth. ‘I’m coming for you. I’m going to find you. Believe me. I’m going to fucking find you.’
The caller continued to talk; it seemed Ben’s threats had little effect. ‘What about the other box? I’ve left a little something for Lydia. Something I’m sure she’ll appreciate. I want her to open it.’
‘She’s not opening anything. We’re done here.’
‘Let me remind you, Mr Do-Gooder, I’m a few feet from your daughter.’
Another jpeg came through, a picture of Laura and Milly in much the same position.
‘You lay a hand on them, and you’re finished. Do you understand?’ Ben threatened.
‘Let Lydia open the box then, see the gift I’ve left for her.’
Lydia gripped Ben’s shirt. ‘I’ll open it.’ She made her way along the floor of the barn. She purposely avoided looking at Andrew. She’d never forget the horror of crawling inside the box and pulling out his head. The image would be etched in her mind until she drew her last breath.
Again, Lydia placed her arms on top of the box on the right. As she stood, preparing herself to open the flaps, a hand pushed out from the inside. Like a jack-in-the-box, bursting its way out.
The box toppled over and there was a loud thump as it hit the ground. Ben saw it first. The boots, the khaki trousers, the hi-vis jacket. The caller came out from the box with a sawn-off shotgun.
He’d made sure not to speak while they were inside the barn, keeping his voice to a whisper while they were outside. He’d watched them through a small peephole, hidden by the box filler.
He’d sent pictures, a video, making out he was standing by the coach. Now, Ben realised he’d taken them earlier.
The caller grabbed Lydia around the neck and pointed the shotgun directly at Ben.
23
Ben and Lydia
‘Let her go. She’s done nothing to you.’
Ben stared down the length of the gun, too frightened to charge towards the caller.
His life suddenly flashed in front of him, the life he had with Laura and Milly. He saw his daughter as a little girl, holding Ben’s hand. He was steering her into a room, Milly blindfolded. He lifted the scarf from around her eyes and listened to the voices shouting, ‘Happy birthday’. Another snippet of a recent holiday, Ben and Milly were out by the pool and the weather was amazing. He ran up to the apartment, begging Laura to come down and then lifted her over his shoulder, racing to the water and the two of them dropping into the pool. Milly was laughing; people began to clap.
He imagined her leaving for school, grabbing her lunchbox, her hair tousled, Ben instructing Milly to pull her skirt down, take the make-up off. Milly laughed while Laura made coffee, saying she imagined he’d still be protective when she started work, him barking orders from the sitting room. They’d leave the house together, late as usual, Ben dashing to the car, instructing Milly to rush while she gazed at her phone, her shoelaces undone and oblivious to his despair. The car journey would involve loud music, the smell of perfume, quick, one-word answers from his daughter. Ben wouldn’t have it any other way.
Now, Ben focused on the caller in his hi-vis jacket. He was certain he was going to shoot, then move out of the barn with Lydia. The caller stared back at him, finger wrapped around the trigger. It wasn’t the time for heroics. Ben had so much to lose. He wanted to get to Lydia, wrestle the gun from the caller but he couldn’t take the chance.
‘Move to the side,’ the man in the hi-vis ordered. ‘I promise I’ll blast you as I stand here.’
Ben watched the fear on Lydia’s face. ‘I’ll find you. Do you hear me, Lydia? I’ll find you.’
Lydia was clawing at the guy’s hand, pulling hard and making little progress. His arm was tight around her throat.
‘I won’t tell you again. Move to the side.’
Ben reluctantly stood back. Lydia’s legs dragged along the floor as the caller walked. A minute later, the two of them went out of the front door.
Ben stood for a moment, trying to digest the madness that had unfolded.
A few hours ago he and his family were on their way to Barcelona. Now, he was in a barn in the middle of nowhere, staring at a decapitated head and seconds ago, a guy had a shotgun pointed at his face. He waited, struggling to believe how his life had changed so drastically.
He feared for the lives of his wife, his daughter, his life, the passengers relying on him.
He had to find where Lydia was being taken, where the others were being held. Ben hoped they were still alive, waiting to be rescued.
He walked along the floor, kicking hay into the air, contemplating his next move. He had to go up to the coach, make sure everyone was still alive.
He pondered Edward, a loose cannon, trying to escape earlier and wondering if he’d told his wife what had happened to their son, Nigel. Ben hoped not.
He thought about Stephen; earlier he was running along the path, shouting that he had to go and get help.
He thought about Andrew, the driver, and what the caller had done to him. Ben imagined how he’d stood over the body, a few feet from the coach, and removed the head. How he’d cut into it, detaching it from the body.
Ben stepped out onto the path from the barn to the road. He looked into the distance, listening for bushes being trampled, heavy boots treading on grass, Lydia, crying out, begging for mercy, her legs dragging along the earth.
His surroundings were tranquil, lifeless. If anyone passed this place, they’d never believe what was happening here.
He thought about the caller. He’d never felt fear like he had moments ago, watching him, waiting to see if he pulled the trigger. It was so easy – the toss of a coin, the pull of a finger on the trigger and BANG. The life he’d built, the friendships, the links to his family, all gone, just like that. It could have been taken away in one split second.
They say when you face death, images flash in your mind, the people closest to you, visions so real. Ben had those. He’d never been closer to death than this evening. Tonight, Ben had to make sure he wasn’t put in that position again.
He walked out to the end of the path, onto the road and ran towards the coach.
The Cottage.
Lydia lay in the boot of Ben’s car. The caller had removed the suitcases and dumped them in a ditch. She shouted out, thumping the sides with her fists. She heard the driver’s door close, and the car rolled forward.