“He left him money?”
“No! Edward didn’t like money—not in the way you mean. He liked assets—houses, businesses and so on.”
“So he gave Ben Fraser property?”
“Don’t look so surprised. It’s a tumbledown affair in a dubious part of town, but all these places have their day, don’t they, as the town expands? Edward thought it would see Ben right in the long term.”
“And do you know where it is?”
“Of course I do. I’m not completely doolally,” she replied, giving Helen a hard stare.
“Then tell me, please. A young woman’s life is at stake.”
The old woman sized Helen up, as if trying to work out if she could trust her or not, before eventually she replied:
“He lives at fourteen Alfreton Terrace. It’s not five minutes from here.”
135
Ben let out a roar and drove his fist into the glass. The mirror shattered and fell to the floor as the blood oozed from his lacerated knuckles. Without hesitation, he stamped on it, his heavy boots pounding it to oblivion.
How? How? How?
How had they found him so quickly? Those bodies were dug up less than a week ago and already they were staking out his shop. It was purely a matter of luck—and their incompetence—that they hadn’t caught him there and then. He let out an anguished howl and drove his head against the exposed brick wall. It couldn’t be happening, not when Summer had just come back into his life, when he was so close...
How long would it take them to find this place? The home that he had so lovingly constructed for their future happiness? It couldn’tbe long now. Once they found out who owned the shop, they would talk to that old bitch. If he was lucky she might be barmy by now, but he couldn’t take that chance. There was nothing for him to do but disappear.
He still had the van. They wouldn’t know about that. And the fake plates would make it hard for them to find him. He could visit Summer tonight. He had never made such a direct approach before, but needs must. If they could be together before the evening news broke, then they might make it away completely.
Marching to the utility room, Ben picked up the squat glass bottle. The rubber bung was still firmly in place and he could see that there was enough clear liquid inside for his needs. He snatched up a couple of old rags and shoved them in his pocket. He turned to leave, then paused. This place would be like a treasure trove when the cops turned up. This distillation unit, his mementos of Summer, not to mention that thing in the doll’s house downstairs. Bitterness gripped his heart as he thought of those faceless policemen and -women passing judgment on him as they patiently fingered his possessions...
Suddenly Ben knew what he had to do. Throwing the cardboard boxes aside, riffling through the detritus of this small room, he found what he was looking for. A large can of turpentine. And nearby it on the shelf, an old lighter, a relic of his smoking days.
Picking them both up, he stalked over to the trapdoor and hauled it roughly open.
136
Ruby looked up hopefully as the door swung open.Is this it, then?But as soon as she saw the look on his face, all hope died within her. He looked at her with ill-disguised contempt and, worse, with intent. Ruby scrabbled off the bed as he approached, bounding toward the other side of the table. But she wasn’t quick enough, his left fist slamming into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her.
As she doubled over, his knee connected sharply with her nose and for a moment she blacked out. When she came to, she found herself lying on the floor. Her wrists were pinched and hurting—when she turned she saw that he was securing her bound hands to the metal bedstead.
“Please.”
He ignored her, instead producing a battered metal can, whose contents he now poured onto the floor around her. The smell of theclear liquid was overpowering. Suddenly Ruby had an inkling of what he was going to do—but it didn’t make any sense. This washisdoll’s house. Why would he destroy something that he’d created? What had gone wrong?
“Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything. Please don’t kill me.”
The can was now empty and he tossed it aside. Ruby’s pleas seemed to have no effect on him—he now produced a cigarette lighter from his pocket.
“I’ll be your Summer. Iamyour Summer. Please don’t hurt me.”
Still he refused to look at her, instead igniting the lighter. He looked at the dancing flame in his hands and as he did so a thin smile crept over his face. Finally he looked up, his eyes boring into her:
“See you on the other side.”
And with that, he tossed the lighter toward her.
137
