The Truth About Celia Frost Page 18

  He trod water, panting noisily. He’d pushed himself too far. He felt his heart about to burst. He was convinced that he would be joining Celia in her watery grave.

  Celia hadn’t progressed more than a couple of metres when she came to a sudden halt. Something was stopping her. She could hear the metal of her belt buckle scratching against the rock beneath her waist. But the more she tried to move forward, the firmer the buckle became snared.

  Frankie’s panting had eased and his ears tuned in to a scratching sound, which seemed to be coming from a nearby cluster of plants hanging off the rock face. He swam up to them and put his ear against it. There’s definitely something in there, he thought, perplexed. As he grabbed the plants, they peeled away from the cliff, exposing the narrow entrance to a tunnel. He peered into it, but his eyes were met by darkness. He held onto the entrance with one hand and thrust the other deep into the slit. All he could feel was icy air, but now the scratching sound was louder, more frantic.

  He rammed his shoulder hard against the entrance in his efforts to reach further into the tunnel. Celia let out a squeal as his fingertips found the sole of her trainer. He put his head into the mouth of the icy tunnel, his triumphant voice deafening Celia. “That’s a great hiding place, Celia, but I’ve found you. I win, fair and square.”

  He grabbed for her foot again, trying to get a proper hold on it. She had to get moving; she had to get the buckle free before his brute force dragged her out of there. She shook her foot as his fingers grasped at it. She held her stomach in and edged an arm under her body. Her fingers were able to feel the buckle, snagged on a jagged rock, but she couldn’t dislodge it.

  She felt his fingers closing firmly around her trainer. In desperation she rocked her whole body from side to side. Her hip bones ground painfully into the rock but she felt the buckle release. Yet before she even had a chance to crawl forward, Frankie strengthened his grip on her foot and began to drag her back. She dug her fingers into the contours of the rock, fighting against his pull. Grunting, she repeatedly kicked her foot against the side of the tunnel, battering and scraping Frankie’s hand on the rock, until he eventually released her with a pained growl.

  As soon as she felt her foot was free she scrambled onwards, her fear of the tomb-like space supplanted by blind panic. She slid out of the tunnel with a gasp, like a baby taking its first breath.

  Frankie’s curses were replaced by a more conciliatory manner. “Hey, Celia, it must have taken some guts to crawl through there. Now let’s not kid ourselves; we both know that there’s no way I can fit through to come and get you. But wherever you’ve just crawled through to, I’m betting you’re trapped, which means you don’t have many options. You either crawl back out now or stay there and face a very slow, very painful death. If you haven’t got any water you’re looking at three days; water but no food, you could survive up to three weeks, but you’ll go mad with the light deprivation and die of hypothermia first. No one knows you’re here, Celia. So let’s be sensible about this. Come back out and we’ll sort something out.”

  Celia didn’t answer, she hardly dared move, but she had to feel her way along the cave walls to the foot of the shaft. She felt for the foot holes. Frankie strained to decipher the scrambling noises filtering through the tunnel; suddenly he realized the pursuit wasn’t over yet.

  “Oh, I see! Have you got another way out? Well don’t worry, Celia; either way I’ll get you.”

  Frankie’s voice made Celia want to scream, but he didn’t linger to torment her. He had to get to shore as quickly as possible. He pushed himself off from the rock, causing a tidal wave as he swam back towards the slabs.

  Her climb up the shaft was agonizingly slow. If she was too hasty and lost her footing Celia knew that she’d end up at the bottom of the shaft, with not a soul to come to her rescue. At last she felt the makeshift cover above her. She pushed it clear and clawed her way out, collapsing on the forest floor, every fibre in her traumatized body begging to rest. But she knew it would be fatal to stay there, so hauling herself off the ground, she staggered to the trees that lined the cliff top. From here she had a clear view of her pursuer as he dragged his dripping bulk out of the lake. He threw on clothes that leeched onto the contours of his wet body and then climbed the steps before disappearing into the trees, heading in her direction. She could easily make it out of the woods and away to safety before he had time to get anywhere near her. But Celia wasn’t even tempted to run; the only thought in her head was to save Sol.

  She crept through the thick undergrowth, listening and watching; all her senses heightened like those of a hunted animal, freezing at the sound of every twig breaking, flinching at the rustle of the trees, praying that the night air wouldn’t carry the stench of her fear to him. But with the fear came adrenalin and the last drops were secreting into her bloodstream.

  A few minutes later she’d made it back to where Sol’s body remained crumpled on the ground, like a little boy in a deep sleep.

  “Please be okay,” she whispered. But as she bent to touch him, something grabbed her from behind, lifting her off her feet. She let out a half formed scream that was silenced by a huge gloved hand enveloping her face. Her arms were pinned to her sides, her head restrained. She kicked and kicked but made no impression on the immovable mound that held her.

  Tape was slapped across her mouth and she was flung across shoulders like a captured animal. A hand closed around her wrists and another locked around her ankles. Her head dangled down, eyes looking at the ground nearly two metres below.

  Frankie turned his mouth to her ear. “I knew you’d come back for him. You should have got away while you had the chance.”

  His tone was neither mocking nor threatening, it seemed heavy with genuine regret – and this made Celia all the more terrified.

  Like on a bone-shaking fairground ride, Celia’s body was jolted up and down with every stride Frankie took on their path out of the woods. Once they neared the road, he waited until there were no headlights approaching and then jogged to the car with his catch. He lowered her onto the back seat, which he’d covered with a plastic sheet. She flopped down, grateful for the soft landing. He reached over to the front seat and produced a tracksuit top, which he offered to Celia.

  “Here,” he said, “you’re shivering.”

  She snatched it from him and put it on, rolling up the sleeves, begrudgingly grateful for the warmth of his tent-sized top. But before she could even swing a futile punch at him, Frankie had bound her ankles and wrists with thick gaffer tape, careful to wrap it over the fabric of the top and her socks; the last thing he wanted was for her to spill any of that blood.

  “Now lie down and keep out of sight or I swear I’ll put you in the boot,” Frankie said to the trussed-up girl.

  As the engine started she heard the click of the central locking and knew that all her exits were sealed. Celia lay there, helpless and exhausted, but her mind was in overdrive, conjuring up images of Sol’s body on the forest floor, thinking of all the terrifying things that could possibly lie ahead of her. Frankie pressed the accelerator to the floor and the car screeched off along the tarmac. He was anxious to deliver this parcel as quickly as possible and forget about this whole terrible business.

  He tried to concentrate on following the directions to their destination but the muffled sobs coming from the back seat were eating into him. He tilted the rear-view mirror and looked at the distraught girl; tears streamed down her face.

  Frankie couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He needed to make himself feel better. “Listen, Celia, I didn’t want to have to get you this way. If you’d just cooperated, all this wouldn’t have been necessary. Anyway, I know this looks bad but you shouldn’t worry, you’re not going to come to any harm. I’ve been told that you’re going back where you belong.”

  Celia tried to control her sobs so she could hear his words.

  “Now, I’ve been thinking about it, and what if that means your real parents? Maybe they�
�ve been looking for you all these years. Maybe you’re going back to them. Hey, wouldn’t that be great?” he said. He saw the confusion in Celia’s eyes.

  He’s lying, she thought. However, despite her doubts, Frankie had planted a seed of hope and, in the bleakness of that journey, she allowed it to grow.

  The stress of listening to her sobs was now replaced by the unbearable weight of silent hope and Frankie was buckling under the tension. He turned on the radio. The mellow tones of the graveyard shift DJ spoke to them. “We’re approaching midnight on this beautiful moonlit evening and I have just the song to take us into tomorrow.”

  Dean Martin’s velvety voice filled the car with the joyous sound of “That’s Amore”.

  “Hey, I love this one,” Frankie chirped up, as if he were a friendly taxi driver. “I bet Janice loves it too,” he added spontaneously, immediately smarting with guilt.

  Sol slowly lifted his lead-weight head off the ground. He groaned as he became conscious enough to register the splitting ache and the ground shifting beneath him. Cradling his throbbing head, he felt the thick, sticky blood plastered to his hair. Sol couldn’t work out what had happened. He searched for his mobile. It was still in his pocket. The screen lit up the darkness but there was no signal. He stumbled through the trees like a drunk feeling his way home. He made his way into the open and phoned Celia, but the number was dead.

  “What’s going on?” he moaned to himself. He knew who to call in a crisis and as Abs answered, Sol could hear the din of the Bluebell pub in the background. Sol slurred out his plea for help.

  “Sit tight,” Abs responded. “We’re coming to get you.”

  Sol had made it to the roadside as his brothers drove up. The car headlights illuminated him as they checked him over.

  “Well, I don’t think you need stitches,” Yacob said, inspecting his head. “But you’re going to need some heavy-duty headache pills and an ice pack.”

  “What happened?” Abs asked the groaning boy.

  “I don’t know. I was looking for Celia in the woods. I heard something behind me and the next second it felt like my skull had been cracked open and I was out cold.”

  “Did they rob you?” Yacob asked.

  “No. Nothing was taken. I wasn’t touched. Why would someone do this?”

  “Maybe it wasn’t ‘someone’. Maybe something just fell on you from one of the trees. Why were you looking here for Celia anyway?” Abs said.

  “I saw her get on the bus. I thought she must be heading here but I didn’t see her and her phone is dead.”

  “But why would she go to some woods? If she was on the bus, wouldn’t she have been heading for the city?” Yacob asked, puzzled.

  Sol ignored the question. Even in his dazed state, he wanted to protect their sanctuary. “I know something’s wrong,” he slurred. “After she went back to her flat, she was weird, really freaked out.”

  “What are you rambling on about?” Yacob said. “Have you two had a lovers’ tiff? Maybe it was her who hit you on the head then.”

  Abs high-fived Yacob, impressed by his joke. Then he said sagely, “Seriously, you should give her some space, instead of chasing after her. You’ve a lot to learn about girls, Sol. She’s probably meeting a mate in town. She might stay out all night, try and get into some clubs, but she’ll come back in the morning and everything will be fine.”

  “No. We should call the police,” Sol said.

  At this, the brothers flashed a look of alarm at each other.

  “No way! We don’t need them getting involved. Anyway, what would you tell them? Something hit you on the head in the woods and you’re worried about your girlfriend because she got on a bus,” Yacob mocked. “What do you expect them to do about it apart from laugh at you, and maybe caution you for trespassing? And think of Mum. There’s no way you want her to find out. It will worry her to think that her only good child is sneaking out at night to wander around some creepy forest.”

  “Okay then,” Sol said reluctantly. “But I have to talk to Celia’s mum. I need to know what’s going on. I should tell her that I saw Celia getting on the bus. She’ll be really worried about her.”

  “You’re in no state to do anything apart from go home to bed,” Abs said.

  “But she needs to know,” Sol whimpered.

  “Then tell her in the morning. We need to sort you out. We’ll smuggle you into the house. I’ll just tell Emama that you were knackered and went straight to bed. Tomorrow we’ll think of some story to explain that bump, and you should just keep your mouth shut,” Yacob advised.

  “But what if she doesn’t come back?”

  “Stop being such a drama queen. She’ll be back to kiss and make up.”

  “I’ve told you already,” Sol said wearily, “we’re just friends.”

  “Yeah, right.” The brothers winked at each other as they helped Sol into the car. Sol was in no state to keep protesting.

  They’d been travelling for over an hour when Frankie turned off the unlit road that cut through the moorland. As the car crawled on and on up the driveway, he peered into the darkness, unsure if he’d got the right place. Driving over the brow of the hill, the full beam of the headlights fell on a building standing in isolation on the black moor.

  Frankie turned around and spoke to the prostrate girl. “Celia, are you awake?”

  Celia had been fighting sleep the whole journey, determined to stay alert, but she’d lost her battle against the lulling motion of the car and the soporific hum of the engine.

  Sleep had transported her to the flooded quarry. She was standing at the lakeside, bathed in brilliant sunshine. She turned on hearing footsteps. For a few moments the sun blinded her. Her eyes struggled to adjust, but as her sight cleared, a vision approached: a man and a woman, their arms outstretched, joy etched on their faces. She instinctively recognized herself in them: the long limbs of the pale-skinned woman with the mile-wide smile, the mop of unruly tangerine hair on the round-eyed man. Their agonizing years of waiting over as they whispered to her, “Celia, we’ve come to take you home.”

  Celia’s eyes flickered madly behind her closed lids, moans contained by her gag as a single teardrop toppled from her eye.

  Frankie shook her. “Wake up, we’re here.”

  She sat bolt upright, disorientated, the blanket of dreams ripped from her as she realized she was back in her waking nightmare.

  He locked her in the car and, taking a torch, went to investigate the building. From the outside, the shabby prefab appeared disused but, despite the battering of the elements and the ivy that covered its walls, the building appeared intact. He tried the door. It was locked. The door and its frame seemed surprisingly solid.

  The night air was chilly now in the cloudless sky. He gave an involuntary shudder. This place really was in the middle of nowhere, no sign of life, no lights for miles. He phoned the client.

  “I’m here. What do you want me to do?”

  “Secure her just outside the building and then go,” she answered.

  Frankie hesitated. “I’m not sure that I should leave her alone out here. Maybe I should wait until you arrive.”

  “Absolutely not,” she answered, irritated. “Leave her and go. I’ll be in touch with you soon.”

  “You’re not going to hurt her, are you?” he asked uneasily. His answer was a dead line.

  He stood and looked over at his teenage captive, who defiantly returned his stare through the car window. A few seconds later he shook off the stranger that was his conscience, and went to the boot of the car, pulling out some rope. Then he lifted her out of the car and bound her to the trunk of a nearby tree, before leaning in towards her, fingers grasping at her top. Celia shook her head violently, her cries of panic muffled by the tape over her mouth, but he proceeded to rearrange the tracksuit top that was hanging from her, zipping it right up to her neck.

  She was confused and repulsed by his seemingly caring act.

  “I don’t want you to get
cold,” he said. “I’ve got to go now, but someone will be along soon, someone who can help you.”

  He dared to search her petrified features as he placed the torch upright on the floor. “I’ll leave the torch for you,” he said. He turned and walked away, mumbling into the ground, “This is for the best.”

  As Frankie drove off, he opened the window. He was choking with doubt and guilt. He couldn’t possibly have spotted the silent black Mercedes hidden from view that fired up its engine as soon as he drove out of sight.

  On hearing the car, Celia thought that the man must have turned around; maybe he’d had a change of heart, maybe he was going to let her go.

  She was dazzled by the car’s headlights. The driver got out and walked towards her. Celia was unable to make out the approaching figure until it stood only centimetres away.

  The impeccably groomed woman couldn’t take her eyes off Celia. She gazed at the girl as if she were an exotic animal. “Just look at you, my survivor,” she whispered in awe.

  A cloud of sumptuous perfume enveloped Celia as the woman gently caressed her cold cheek. Celia didn’t even see the needle as she felt the lightning-quick sting in the side of her neck.

  By the time Frankie reached the motorway he practically had the road to himself. He sped along, trying to rid his head of Celia’s frightened face. Instead he filled it with thoughts of going home and sleeping in his own bed. He was aching to get away from everything to do with this case, but he knew that he had suitcases full of his belongings back at the hotel in the city. He made a decision. He didn’t care how late it was, he’d go to the hotel, collect his stuff and drive straight home, even if it took him until dawn.

  But his comforting plan was shattered by the ringing of his phone.

  “Mr. Byrne, I have the girl but I need you to do one last job for me.”

  “What is it?” he asked coldly.