Girl A, Dan Scottow [best short books to read .TXT] 📗

would never go back. No good could possibly come from it. And yet here she found herself having to return for the second time in the space of a week. It had taken every bit of strength Beth could muster to do it once. To look Wendy Noakes in the eye and confront her.

She didn’t want to, but she had no choice. Her family’s lives were at risk. Assuming it wasn’t a trick. They could already be dead.

Beth shook the thought from her head. She couldn’t allow herself to entertain that idea.

Worse than having to return to Birmingham. Worse than having to see Wendy Noakes. Beth had to go there. To the hotel.

And for the first time in years, Beth was Kitty Briscoe again.

Scared, pathetic Kitty Briscoe. Who did a bad thing and got caught.

When Beth had rewritten her past, her identity, she had vowed she would never allow herself to feel like this again. She had found safety with Charlie. And she’d stopped running; created a new family, who brought her comfort.

She made a life for herself that she knew she didn’t deserve.

But it felt good. And as she pictured them there, in that place of horror and wicked secrets, she imagined Daisy, confused, terrified. She saw Charlie, hurt and bleeding. She thought of Peter, wondered if he was afraid, or if he was putting up a fight. Her poor, beautiful family.

They needed her, and she had to save them.

She didn’t deserve them, but she had them none the less, and she had to do what she could to help them. A sudden strength and resolution surged up from within her. She stood from the sofa and walked out of the apartment, pulling the door closed behind her. Climbing into her car, she held down a rush of nausea. She was returning to Birmingham, hopefully for the last time.

Whatever awaited her in that damp, dark hotel, whether she survived it or not, there was one thing she was sure of. Nothing would ever be the same for her… for any of them again.

55

Charlie opened his eyes slowly. His head throbbed; he’d been hit from behind with something heavy. A great deal of blood was still flowing from what he guessed was a fairly deep wound on his scalp. He inhaled deeply; his nostrils filled with a musty smell. The air felt cool, damp.

His vision adjusted to the darkness as he tried to make sense of what had happened. His arms were tied behind his back painfully, tethering him to a pillar as he lay on the dirty ground. The space was vast, but about twenty feet above his head was a small section of ceiling, like a mezzanine, or a large balcony jutting out from the wall. It looked unstable. Dangerous. Parts of it had caved, so you could see right up to the roof.

Somewhere off in the darkness he could hear Daisy. She was sobbing.

‘Daisy!’ he shouted as loud as he could.

‘Daddy! Where are you?’ Her voice was quiet, not in the same room… if room was the correct word. Most of the walls were crumbling. Shafts of dim evening light seeped in through cracks and holes in the roof, but not enough to illuminate the space. They threw dappled shadows onto small areas, falling across piles of bricks and twisted, rusty metal girders.

‘I’m right here, honey. Are you okay?’

‘I’m scared, Daddy. It’s dark!’

‘I know, sweetheart. Can you see Peter?’

There was a pause.

‘Yes. He’s here… but he’s sleeping.’

Charlie’s heart pounded. He hoped Peter was only asleep.

‘Okay love, try to stay calm. I’m going to get us out of here, I promise.’

In reality, Charlie had no idea how he would escape this situation. He scanned the room.

‘Daisy, can you move? Can you run away?’

‘No, Daddy. I can’t. We’re both stuck.’

Charlie pictured his children, alone in the dark. Terrified.

A surge of adrenaline rushed through him, and he let out a loud cry, wriggling, trying to break free from his bonds. Pain coursed through his body. Although his head had the most obvious injury, the rest of him had taken quite a pummelling too. He twisted from side to side. As he did so, dust and debris crumbled down onto his face from high above him. The pillar wobbled precariously.

Perhaps he would be able to dislodge the structure and escape. He sat up, bracing his back against the bricks. Digging his heels into the dirt, he pushed backwards. More crap fell down from above.

Without warning, a large piece of masonry came loose, falling down and narrowly missing Charlie’s head.

It crashed to the ground with a loud thud beside him, as he was showered with dust and bits of concrete. Caution kicked in. If this went wrong, the entire thing looked like it could come down on top of him. One false move and it could be game over. Not worth the risk.

He would need to keep very still. He couldn’t remember a time in his life when he had ever felt as useless… as helpless.

Something wet and furry scurried over his arm. He writhed around, bringing more debris down on him.

A rat emerged in front of his face. Its nose wiggled as it sniffed the air. It seemed to stare straight at Charlie, fearless. In the surrounding darkness, Charlie sensed more movement.

The rodent was not alone.

Charlie screwed his eyes shut and hoped with all he could muster that this was not the last place he and his children would ever see.

56

It was dark by the time Beth arrived in Birmingham. She had stopped at a hardware shop so she could arm herself. After assessing the rows of tools, she had chosen a heavy claw hammer. It was easy enough to carry, swing, and could deliver an impressive amount of damage to a human skull. She had also picked up a small silver Stanley knife as a backup. You could never be too sure when dealing with a psychopath.

She didn’t intend on letting Michael Noakes leave Birmingham alive. She couldn’t