The Attic Room: A psychological thriller (19 page)

Wednesday 26th July

Nina jerked awake. What the hell – she was – oh God, she
was still stuck in this awful house and Paul was snoring beside her. How
unbelievable, she had actually slept here. Her gut cramped and she lay still,
panting in shallow breaths until the spasm passed. Thank Christ she hadn’t
woken him. Moving as slowly as she could, she turned her head to look round the
room. A heavy blue curtain was pulled across the window, but she could see it
was pretty light outside.

Fear was sharpening her brain; she was wide awake now. She
had to get out of here, and without disturbing Paul. Ignore the rumblings and
twitches in her gut, she inched gingerly away from the malodorous body beside
her, taking great care not to move her left foot. Paul’s breathing didn’t
change, and Nina lay motionless, planning furiously. She had to free her foot.
Slowly, slowly, she pulled herself into a sitting position, listening all the
time to Paul’s breathing. It didn’t change.

The rope was greasy and difficult to loosen with tied hands
but at last she felt it slacken. Squinting at Paul and holding her breath, she
pulled her foot from the noose. Hah! She was free.

The snoring continued, and Nina rolled over until she was
crouching beside the mattress. If the floor creaked now she’d be done for.
Slow-motion, nice and easy, Nina, whatever you do, don’t wake him.

Testing the floor at every step, she crept to the door and
inched it open. Out on the landing she paused. Should she make a run for it –
or creep downstairs one step at a time? Fear was screaming at her to run,
quick, as fast as she could, but her head insisted on caution. She inched down
the stairs, stepping on the edge of every second tread only, gripping the
greasy bannister and going as fast as she dared.

The bottom tread creaked and Nina froze, but no howl of rage
came from the bedroom. She scurried through to the kitchen and seized a knife
from the drawer, still half-open after her efforts last night. Jamming it between
her knees, she rubbed her bound wrists along the blade. A few good sawing
movements and she was free. Right. Quick, quick. Hush to the door, and run,
Nina, run, as far away from here as you can get.

Fingers trembling, she eased the front door open and
squeezed out, the rope burns on her wrists stinging in the coolness of the
summer morning. The contrast between the stench in the house and the
early-morning air hit her like something solid, but there was no time to stand
around taking deep breaths. Away, away; she had to get back to Naomi. Please
God her baby was safe in bed at Cassie’s and not tied up in some other
hell-hole of Paul’s.

Stumbling down the path, she came to the next hurdle. The
creaky gate had fallen shut. With the bedroom window tilted and facing this
way, she couldn’t possibly risk opening it. Jagged branches tore at her clothes
and scratched her hands as she forced her way through the hedge – which way
now, which way? Nina trembled in silent frustration. She had no idea, but Paul’s
car was facing right so she turned left and started to jog along the uneven
pavement.

The street was deserted; why was no one up yet? Didn’t they
have jobs to go to? The combatants of the previous evening were gone, but
shards of glass on the pavement marked where the fight had been. And dear God,
look at the blood in the gutter. Where the hell was she, anyway? Dilapidated
houses and litter-strewn side streets loomed up as she continued down the road.
In a different area she could have knocked at someone’s door and asked for
help, but not here.

Her heart gave a great leap at the next corner. Yes! Oh,
thank God. They had driven down here yesterday. About two hundred metres up
this road was a roundabout, and if she turned right there she’d soon be in a
more civilised area; she was so nearly safe. Run, Nina, run…

A loose paving stone wobbled under her foot and she
stumbled, her stomach cramping yet again. The thought of Naomi spurred her on,
her breath ragged in her ears. The next street she crossed was wider. Hallelujah,
there were the shops she’d remembered seeing yesterday. Maybe –

Hope plummeted. None were open yet – but she was nearly at
the roundabout now. She would flag down a car. That would be safer than
knocking at one of these shabby, anonymous doors. Please God she would find
someone respectable, some woman driver who would call the police for her. She
had so nearly made it, help was within grasping distance.

The sound of her own heavy breathing meant she didn’t hear
the car behind her till it drew level. Nina jerked to a halt, dizzy with
horror, gaping helplessly as Paul wound down the window; he was laughing, oh
God how horrible. This was a hideous caricature of the gentle, shy man who had
greeted her the first time on the doorstep of John Moore’s house. He leaned out
the window and Nina moaned.

‘Race you to Naomi!’ he yelled gleefully, and gunned the car
towards the roundabout.

Wednesday 26th July

Horror chilling through her, Nina stood motionless as Paul’s
car circumnavigated three-quarters of the roundabout and disappeared. Her feet
felt as if they were stuck to the ground. It took a huge effort to wrench them
free and run on. Naomi must still be at Cassie and Glen’s; I’m coming, baby,
stay safe, Mummy’s on her way.

Pain stabbing through her cramped leg muscles, Nina
staggered towards the roundabout. No one at all was about, and shit, she needed
help. Right now. But the buildings to her right looked like warehouses, and the
one across the road was a derelict factory. For a second her feet faltered –
should she go back and risk knocking on someone’s door? No – onwards was best;
a car must come soon, she would flag it down. The thought of Paul speeding
towards Naomi spurred her exhausted legs on.

The first car to approach blared its horn and swerved round
her when she jumped into the road and tried to wave it down. Bastards. They
must have seen that she was in trouble. But of course in an area like this it
was equally likely she was out to rob them. Another car was approaching and she
waved even more frantically.

The car stopped, and a dark male face glared out, a painful
reminder that Sam must be worried sick.

‘Please. I need help. Can you phone the police for me?’ Her
voice sounded ragged.

The man in the car laughed scornfully. ‘Yeah, right,’ he
said, and skidded off like Paul had.

Nina swore. Time, time, she didn’t have it. Paul would soon
be at Cassie’s, and God knows what he’d do when he got there. She had never
felt so impotent. It was like one of those nightmares where you keep running
and running and it’s so important that you arrive somewhere on time, but you
can’t find the way…

The third car stopped too, and Nina gasped in relief when
she saw two women in the front. Panting, she repeated her plea. The woman in
the passenger seat raised her eyebrows.

‘Police? Why?’ Her face was reluctant but not hostile, and
Nina bent till she was level with the women.

‘My cousin’s driven off to get my little girl and I’m afraid
he’ll hurt her.’ It was difficult not to scream at the women, but that would
certainly frighten them off. ‘Please. Do you have children?’ she added, and the
women glanced at each other.

‘Your cousin from round here?’ asked the driver, and Nina
felt like shaking them both.

‘No, but he kept me in an empty house here overnight. I’ve
just got out. Please, phone the police for me. My name’s Nina Moore. Please.’

Again the women exchanged looks, and the driver gave a
slight nod. Her companion reached into a bag at her feet and produced a mobile.
Nina stood panting. Thank God. Help would soon be on its way. The woman pursed
her lips at Nina before punching out 999.

‘I guess I need police. Crazy woman here called Nina Moore
wants help. At the Leeway roundabout.’ She disconnected and dropped the phone
back into her bag. ‘They’re comin’,’ she said, winding the window up again. ‘And
we’re goin’.’

The car jerked as the driver slammed the gearstick in and
drove off. Nina sank to her knees on the dirty pavement. Oh God. She had no way
to tell if the woman really had called the police. And even if she had, they
still didn’t know to protect Naomi. Should she stop another car?

But the next two cars didn’t stop and after that there was a
lull. Nina trudged towards the roundabout. She had failed. Paul would have
reached Cassie’s by this time. All she could hope was that Naomi would be
asleep in bed. And she might be, she wasn’t an early riser. But then again, if
Paul rang the bell and introduced himself, there was no reason for Cassie and
Glen not to believe whatever he told them, even if they did know by this time
that Nina was missing. After all, Naomi knew Paul. Worst case, Sam’s parents
might even waken Naomi and bundle her into Paul’s car.

Nina stood at the roundabout, dry sobs mixed with shivers
shaking her body. She had never felt so out of control and so – beaten. Nobody
stopped to help her; there were no good Samaritans at the Leeway roundabout
this morning and dear God, she was so dead. What would Paul do with Naomi? He
would be furious that Nina had escaped, Christ, it would be all too easy for a
grown man who was mad and hurt and unhappy to take out his frustration on a
small girl… Please God he won’t hurt Naomi… Nina buried her face in her hands.
If the woman had called the police they should be here any second, surely. But
it was another five minutes before she saw a blue light flashing in the
distance, swooping up to stop beside her.

‘Christ, Nina.’ David Mallony was out of the passenger seat
and helping her into the back before Nina could draw breath.

‘Paul. He’s gone to Cassie Harrison’s to get Naomi,’ she
whispered, and David pulled out his radio.

The car sped off, Nina slumped in the back seat. She had
done all she could, but – would it be enough? Naomi was still in grave danger…
David was here; she wasn’t alone any more – more than that, she was safe – but
how unimportant that was beside what could be happening to her child. Nina sat
shaking, taking noisy, painful breaths, unable to stop her teeth chattering.

David clicked his radio off and turned to her. ‘They’re onto
it. Are you hurt? Do you need a doctor?’

Nina shook her head. ‘Sabine?’ she whispered again. It was
easier than talking.

‘Alive but unconscious. She has a serious head injury, but
she’s stable,’ said David. ‘Nina, tell me everything.’

In a few short sentences Nina covered the horror of the past
several hours. Unfortunately she hadn’t noticed what make either of Paul’s cars
were, all she could say was that the first was silver and possibly an Opel, and
the second light green metallic. She described the house she’d been held in,
then listened while David passed on the information over his radio. And all the
time she was trembling so hard it was painful, and her breath was burning in
her throat.

Bedford town centre didn’t look as if anything untoward had
ever happened there, and Nina gazed out at now-familiar streets, willing the
car to drive faster. She felt as if an elastic band at breaking point was
holding her gut together. Soon, soon she would know if Naomi was safe; this not
knowing was the worst, the most terrible thing. She had tried so hard, but it
might all have been too late.

The minute the car stopped at the police station Nina
scrambled out to see if there was any news. Sam was waiting outside the door,
and he seized her and hugged her hard and God, how awful she looked and she
stank too, she knew she did, of that terrible house and all the stress and
sweat, but Sam was holding her as if he’d never let her go.

‘Naomi?’ she said into his chest. She felt his body tense up
and pulled away to see his face.

‘Nina, we’ll find her,’ he said, but his voice was dull.

Oh God. Darkness swirled. But she’d known really… Naomi… her
baby. The elastic band broke and Nina retched painfully then swallowed burning
saliva.

David Mallony finished talking to another police officer,
then strode across and gave her arm a little shake.

‘Nina, you have to hold it together. Wright’s got Naomi. She
went out to the garden with the dog a short time ago, and when she didn’t come
back Cassie Harrison went out to look, and found the dog but no Naomi. We have
to assume that he has taken her. I need you to tell us every detail you
remember about where you went, and what Wright said.’

Nina stepped away from Sam and felt the world sway. Shit,
she had to get a grip here. ‘Try her mobile. It’s 078432084.’ David nodded at
another officer.

Nina sat in a grey interview room, Sam beside her holding
her hand while she dredged up every detail of the past twelve hours. Someone
brought her tea and toast, and she picked at it. She had to keep her strength
up but Christ, how impossible it was to eat toast when her daughter had been
taken by a madman. Naomi must be terrified. She would realise very quickly that
Paul wasn’t normal and dear God in heaven why had nobody picked up on this long
ago?

A young officer appeared with the news that Naomi’s mobile
was beside her bed at the Harrison’s, and the brief hope that she’d be easily
traced was gone. Nina closed her eyes. Could nothing go right for them? Here
she was, Naomi’s mother, and all she was doing to help was tell a couple of
police officers about the state of the bloody lino in the kitchen she’d been
held in. Fear for her child was eating its way through Nina’s gut, and she
clutched her middle. Oh God. She was going to be sick soon.

A police doctor, a woman, arrived halfway through her
statement and insisted on dressing Nina’s wrists. Nina sat still, not heeding
the sting of antiseptic and refusing to halt the question and answer session
with the police officers. Any one of these questions could be the one that
helped find Naomi. Before she was finished news came in that the police had
found the house she’d been held in, but there was no sign of life there. Paul’s
own flat in Newport Pagnell was deserted too. Nina shuddered. Paul, by his own
admission, had spent the past year tracking down paedophiles. Not only that, he
now wanted Naomi to ‘help’ him – he was going to put her photo on some ghastly
website… Suppose he had taken Naomi to another place he thought wouldn’t be
found? This place could easily be connected to one of the ‘kiddy-fuckers’ he’d
been meting out his self-justice to.

Saliva rushed back into Nina’s mouth and she swallowed it
down to churn around in the tea and toast mess in her stomach. Never in all her
life had she been so afraid; even breathing was painful. Suddenly she
remembered something.

‘Paul spoke of a girlfriend. Melanie.’

David nodded. ‘We’ll check that too. We’ll be searching his
home.’

Nina sat back. There was nothing left to tell them; nothing
more that could help find Naomi. This was worse than any nightmare, a hundred
times worse than the fear for her own safety was the previous day. Waves of
numbness were alternating with waves of panic. This very minute her child could
be tied to a kitchen chair somewhere, helpless and terrified. The mass in her
stomach shifted and Nina ran for the toilets.

Sam was waiting in the corridor to hug her after she’d been
sick and dear God she needed someone to hold on to. Sobbing, Nina clung to his
jacket.

‘I should never have left you,’ he said into her hair. ‘Nina,
I wish I’d been there for you.’

‘It wouldn’t have stopped him,’ said Nina, hearing the
dreariness in her own voice. ‘Paul wants revenge and he wants money, and me
coming here and involving the police stopped him getting both and it’s made him
mad, Sam. Why the hell didn’t I notice sooner? I was so caught up in this
bloody finding-family thing that I wasn’t thinking straight, it was all cousins
together, and I wanted a cousin, I wanted a family, and shit, why didn’t I
notice?’

Sam led her back to the interview room. ‘He was clever. He
said all the right things.’

Nina sat down again. The police officers had gone, and there
was another cup of tea waiting for her. She pushed it away. ‘Do you think he’ll
let me buy her back?’

She rocked back and forward on the police station chair, and
Sam rubbed her back without speaking. Nina was grateful for his silence. There
was no reassurance anyone could give her right this minute.

David Mallony came back in and leaned on the table. ‘We’re
going to drive around with you, see if we can find where you changed cars,’ he
said. ‘Paul may have a base of some kind nearby.’

Nina, David, Sam and a policewoman drove around for over an
hour before Nina admitted defeat. They found the district where she and Paul
left the first car, but she couldn’t remember enough to pinpoint the correct
street. They were all so alike, with their identical council terraces and
scrappy front gardens. She’d been absorbed in Paul at that point; she hadn’t
been watching where they were going. There was no sign of the car, either; Paul
must have moved it.

‘Okay – at least we’ve got the area,’ said David eventually.
‘We’ll get a house-to-house inquiry going. Someone may have seen Paul. You
should rest, Nina. You’re exhausted.’

David drove them back to John Moore’s house, where the
first thing Nina did was have a boiling hot shower. Not that she cared how she
looked or smelled, but all that was keeping her going now was the thought that
any minute, Naomi might be found. Which meant she had to be ready to go at a
moment’s notice to help her child. She emerged from the bathroom to find Sam
packing her things into her case and two plastic bags.

‘You’re not staying here another minute,’ he said.

All she wanted was to leave this house forever, but – ‘What
if he comes back here? What if he phones?’ she whispered.

‘He won’t, he knows the landline’s bugged. And it’s up to
the police to watch the place. They’re going to seal it, anyway. Come back to
my flat, Nina. Or Mum and Dad’s.’

The memory of Naomi happily preparing to paint Glen Harrison’s
fence flashed into Nina’s mind and her legs turned to jelly. She fell to her
knees, head bent to the floor, sobs shaking her body. Sam knelt by her side,
patting her back but not attempting to stop the tears.

‘Nina, there are dozens of police officers out searching,’
he said. ‘Don’t give up, they must find her.’

Sniffing, Nina allowed him to help her to her feet. How very
much she wanted to believe what he had said. But how often did you read about
little girls being taken and then found later in ditches, raped, bleeding,
dead. And Paul would be angry about what had happened, he’d be looking for
revenge not only on his own abusers now, but also on her. On the other hand, he
knew from his own experience what sexual abuse did to a child. So he wouldn’t
allow the same thing to happen to Naomi, would he? He was a victim – but then
weren’t paedophiles often victims first, and then lost themselves in a
never-ending vicious circle, repeating the abuse they’d been subjected to?