The Grotto's Secret: A Historical Conspiracy Mystery Thriller (13 page)

46

A branch cracked underfoot. María froze. Her eyes darted left to right. The moon had disappeared behind a cloud, and for a moment she held her breath. Then, someone stepped out of the shadows and lowered his hood.

‘Don Behor!’ María blurted out in surprise.

Although Behor de Catalon wasn’t her uncle, she considered him to be, and called him
Tío
— uncle — to show her affection.

‘
Shalom aleikhem.
Peace be upon you.’ Tío folded her into his arms and with a big hug drew her into his flowing green robe. He finished the embrace with a kiss on the top of her head as Madre did.

‘But what are you doing out at this hour of the night,
mi
querida
?’ Whenever he called her
my dear
his tone softened with affection.

Tío dressed elegantly in fine silk and linen. Today his tappert’s large sleeves revealed a jubba underneath to stop the cool spring night breeze from piercing him.

María explained what had happened and asked, ‘And why are
you
out so late, Tío? Is there a
problema
with my stories?’

Tío placed a hand on her arm and said, ‘Not that kind of trouble,
querida
. But I was on my way to tell Carmen some terrible news.’

María’s heart pounded.

He lifted the wide-brimmed woollen hat he wore and rubbed the top of his head. He only removed his hat when he was worried. ‘I’ve received news from my family in the Basque region.’

‘Come Tío, let us turn back and talk in the cottage.’

They walked in silence for a few minutes. María’s heart lifted when the animals gathered around her legs as they neared the cottage.

Inside, she threw another log and a handful of twigs on the glowing embers. Kneeling, she blew on the embers. A spark licked at the twigs and flames leapt around the log. María straightened and watched Tío pull out a tiny hardened leather costrel and threw back a gulp of
vino
. María had heard Tío tell Madre he drank his vino for medicinal reasons.

‘
Con
s
alud
,
querida
, with good health. A drink will calm my nerves.’

‘What has happened, Tío?’

‘It is God’s will. You must get this news to your mother as soon as you are able.’

María nodded and waited while he took another smaller sip of his calming wine.

‘It is happening,
querida
, for many years there has been rumblings that
los djudyos
— the Jews — will be banished from Al-Andalus.’ He sipped again and breathed deeply.

María stoked the fire.

‘The Alahambra Decree is an Expulsion Edict because of the Catholic
reconquista
of Spain.’

María swallowed hard.

‘Isabella and Ferdinand — that
azno.
He is a jackass.’

María suppressed a cry of shock. Tío was clearly distraught. She had never before heard him speak ill of anyone, especially the monarchy, but he trusted her.

‘They’ve ordered Jews to convert to Catholicism. If they don’t, they’ll be executed.’

María’s jaw dropped.

‘We have to leave or die.’

47

Kelby slowly awoke. At first she didn’t know where she was and opened one eye to look around. The chemical tang of newly washed floors reminded her she had fallen asleep beside Annie.

Her laptop had gone to sleep on Annie’s hospital bedside cabinet. Kelby tapped her phone: 01:44.

Annie’s peaceful face lay within arm’s reach, although Kelby resisted the urge to stroke her cheeks in case she woke her. The poor little thing had such a wild imagination, no only having invisible friends, but now believing they were real people with real dramas.

Outside the room, someone whispered, ‘She has no personality.’ The busybody nurse clearly intended to be heard. ‘Yep, she doesn’t say a word to us, just types away.’

‘Shh, she’ll hear you.’ That sounded like Rosalind.

‘No way, I’ve got the heating units on full blast; you wouldn’t hear a devil roar behind her.’

‘That’s a terrible thing to say,’ Rosalind chastised. ‘She’s kind to me and she’s often here visiting Annie, even though someone like her probably gets invited to all kinds of fancy events. But no, she doesn’t bother with that, she’d rather sit with Annie.’

‘Hey!’

The flooring squeaked as the gossiping nurses spun around to face the male voice invasion.

‘Give her a break. She’s been here for hours.’

The voice came closer. Kelby dropped her head, pretending to be asleep.
Oh, no. Not him again.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the hairy caterpillars peering through the blinds.

Outside, Doctor Robson whispered, ‘Look, she’s fallen asleep in there.’

‘Yeah, laptop still on and all.’

‘Did anyone offer her a cuppa?’

Silence.

‘Shame on you. All of you!’

His footsteps squeaked along the chemically clean floor. Kelby tiptoed to the door. The nurses had ambled off down the web of corridors. Stuffing her laptop into her briefcase, she blew a kiss to Annie. Kelby crept along the corridor and out of the hospital, extra careful not to bump into anybody.

Surrounded by conifers that reached for the moon, the car park scattered long shadows. They followed her every step as though they wanted to pounce on her ankles and tackle her to the ground. Her breath jammed in her throat, shafting up in desperate gasps.

Where was Hawk?

Hidden amongst the branches, an owl fluttered its wings and hooted, spooking her.

Kelby spotted Hawk inching his car towards her. Phew! Yesterday was only just over, but she wasn’t taking any chances at this spooky hour.

The stalker’s last words still haunted her:
See you at yours tonight.
 

48

The sombre house greeted Kelby with silence. She hated the dark. Always had. A blast of wind blew her inside and growled as she stood beside Hawk.

Kelby slipped off her shoes in the hallway, her nerves still jumpy. In the tomb-like silence, she could hear the rooms resting and emitting stray sighs like a dormant monster deep in slumber.

She placed her keys on the wall keyring holder and their jangle echoed around the kitchen. Suddenly, they heard arguing as a man and woman’s voice came from the lounge.

Hawk followed the echoes.

Kelby’s breath caged in her throat as she tiptoed down the hall after him. Her muscles cramped with dread.

At the point where a blue haze oozed out of the living room, Hawk stopped dead. He pushed the door open with one finger. Sounds reverberated around the room, bouncing off the furniture and whirring straight at Kelby like a ghost being exorcised. The door nudged open enough to reveal the culprit.

One of Fat Cat’s soaps.

‘It’s only the telly,’ Hawk chuckled.

Kelby slumped against the wall in relief as he pushed the door wide open to see Fat Cat fast asleep on top of the old square TV. Below him, one of the BBC’s soaps blared as some haggard old female had it out with a younger man.

‘Hah, soap re-runs at this hour of the morning!’ Hawk grinned. ‘You forgot to switch it off.’

‘No, not exactly.’ Kelby blushed. ‘I leave the TV on for the cat in case he gets lonely.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

‘It started after my ex left.’

The stupid bastard had left her for a young tart he’d got pregnant, but Kelby had no intention of sharing those details with Hawk. She recalled the endless photos of her ex on Twitter and Facebook that showed him loading his Porsche with leaving-home-luggage. And the people gloating at what had happened. In the end, she’d sold her Chelsea home to get away from them. Now she hid out in the sedate yet prestigious, tree-lined celebrity drive near St George’s College in Surrey. The agent had boasted that Elton John and Cliff Richard were neighbours; not that she cared. She had bought privacy.

Kelby sighed and said in a low voice, ‘Leaving the TV on was more to do with my fear of being alone in the dark.’

‘Don’t worry. The dark scares a lot of people.’

‘Mine comes from the night when my parents left me and my brother with the babysitter for an odd night out.’ She swallowed hard at the haunting memory.

‘How old were you?’

‘Just a teenager.’

‘What happened?’ Hawk’s gentle voice prodded her to get rid of her demon.

‘At midnight the babysitter left. I waited alone in the dark all night with Gary. In the morning one of my aunts arrived with the police and told me about my parents’ accident.’

Hawk’s huge arms wrapped around her.

‘I know it sounds daft,’ her voice muffled against his chest, ‘There were no mobiles in those days and no way for me to get in touch with my folks, so I hid Gary in a wardrobe and climbed in with him.’

‘It’s okay.’ Hawk patted her shoulders.

‘I’m brave in public, but a coward on my own.’

She pulled out of Hawk’s arms, lifted Fat Cat and gave him a quick cuddle.

Back in the hallway, she watched Hawk check the house and then he showed her how to use the alarm. Thanking him, she watched him slide back into his car right outside her door. ‘I won’t be far. I’ll keep checking around the house. I’m here if you need me. Just call.’

Darting upstairs to her bedroom, Kelby slipped off her bra and pulled on a pair of Calvin Klein boxers. She often bought the soft t-shirt ones without the Y-front in Harrods, pretending they were for a man friend. She hopped into bed, careful not to disturb Fat Cat who was curled in a fluffy ball on the bottom corner.

With no hope of a decent night’s sleep, Kelby slipped between the cold sheets. For the first time since her divorce, she regretted being alone.

After reading two pages of
The Economist’s
world news, Kelby realised she hadn’t registered a word. Every sound outside magnified in her mind. The wind swept through a garden pergola, creaking around the grapevine arbour. It played havoc with the roof tiles, lifting them one by one, as if to tease her with frightening sounds. Somewhere downstairs a tap dripped. Although it drove her nuts, she wouldn’t get out of bed to find it and stop the irritating drip.

Dumping
The Economist
on her bedside table, she opted for her latest Dean Koontz novel. She soon gave that up too. Fine thing to be reading with someone prowling around her garden. At least with Hawk there, no-one would get inside.

Kelby hit the light switch and snuggled under the duvet, curling into a foetal position. Her king size bed was a cold, vacant void without a man’s warmth. She tried to empty her mind and get some sleep.

Fat chance.

49

Kelby crept around the house, trying to get away from a dark figure, but the more she tried the slower she went.

He yanked her from behind. Throwing one of her shirts over her head, he tugged it tighter and tighter. A large hand closed over her mouth. She coughed and spluttered, struggling to breathe.

She came around with her hands and feet bound to a chair in the kitchen. The dark figure made himself at home, munching on left over quiche and sipping on an open bottle of Rioja. For hours, her attacker taunted her. ‘You deserve to be raped,’ he hissed, ‘A she-devil like you needs to be exterminated.’ A loud bang on the door stopped his ramblings.

With a jolt, Kelby woke from her nightmare.

Too afraid to move, she lay under the warm duvet. For a long moment, she listened for someone at the door. Silence. Nobody there. It was only a nightmare about being tied up. Yet, it had been so real, she had felt the rope chafe her wrists. What a relief. The threat was over. She had escaped.

But how come her bedroom stank of stale tobacco?

The banging in her head refused to abate; she had to take a headache pill. Forcing herself up, Kelby rose in slow motion, her eyes taking in every square inch of her bedroom.

No sign of an intruder.

Kelby crept across the darkened room, fearing her attacker would appear from nowhere. Her ears were on red alert.

Calm down!
She shook her head.

After a quick shower, she opened a drawer tangled with panties and bras. Distracted, and multi-tasking with her hands going in different directions, she lifted out a pair of knickers and her finger slid across the smoothness of paper.

Kelby frowned as she pulled out a magazine.

The same blood-smeared magazine centre spread stared back at her. This time, Teresina had been blacked out. Her glossy smile was scarred by the horrific graffiti while Kelby’s face had been smeared with a large bloody X.

She inhaled sharply. Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes checked every nook in her bedroom, and focused on the entrance, half expecting the attacker to be silhouetted in the doorway.

Kelby’s thumb instinctively popped into her mouth and her bottom row of teeth shaved along the nail.

Then, her spine recoiled with a new realisation. The internet stalker must have had something to do with Teresina’s death. His message was clear; she was next on his list.

Kelby bolted down the stairs, flung the door open, yelling to Hawk.

But his car was gone.