Daniel wanted to think she might, but in his heart of hearts he knew it was unlikely. He tried to think of all the reasons she might not be answering the phone. Her battery could be flat but then the landline would ring. She had her music on full blast and couldn’t hear a thing. Maybe she’d slipped in the bath and had had hurt herself and couldn’t get up... or lying unconscious... and might have drowned.
Or, he didn’t want to think it but the idea wouldn’t go away, Peter had found a way in. But that wasn’t possible. They’d changed the locks.
‘I’m about twenty minutes away. Have you phoned the police?’
‘No, don’t you think that might be a bit—’
‘No!’ he snapped. ‘They’ve got the address flagged. Call them. Did you track him down? I thought you were going to give details to the police.’
‘Turned out the guy I knew who brought Peter along shared a house with him. I went round this afternoon.’ Barney paused. ‘Not good, I’m afraid. Shares a place with a couple of other guys. They let me in. Said he was odd but thought he was harmless. I saw his room.’ An uneasy silence followed the words.
‘And...’ Daniel dreaded to think. Peter had killed a cat and put it in a fridge, that wasn’t normal behaviour on any level. The guy was a nutjob.
‘Weird. Loads of photos of Olivia and Emily. Looks like he’s been following them for weeks. Work, home, in the street. And their stuff, clothes, underwear... really creepy.’ He paused. ‘It gets worse... there were knives, a couple of kitchen ones lined up in size order. He’d slashed a lot of the pictures and clothing.’
Bile rose and Daniel’s stomach churned. A horn blared behind him. Dazed, he looked round to see that the traffic had miraculously freed up and they were moving again. Numbnessspread through him as he tried hard to quash the images of the damage a blade could do to a face, to skin. To Olivia.
Barney spoke again, ‘If it’s any consolation, it looks as if his main target was Emily.’
Daniel slapped the steering wheel. ‘No, it fucking isn’t. What the hell were you playing at? Didn’t you check on any of the psychos? Your own fucking cousin.’ Part of him knew losing his rag like this wouldn’t help but he needed to rage at someone. If this traffic didn’t start moving, he’d just get out and leave the damn car here. It would be quicker to run.
Up ahead a space in the traffic opened. He let out the breath he’d been holding for too long. ‘Don’t hang up. I’m on my way.’ Tossing the phone, the line still open, onto the passenger seat, he floored the accelerator and raced down the wrong side of the road, darting in front of the queue slowly crossing the traffic lights. By the skin of his teeth, he whipped back into the line of traffic to a chorus of angry horn blasts.
‘I’ll be there in ten,’ he yelled, hoping that Barney could still hear. ‘Meet me, there.’
Driving like a complete maniac, he managed to piss off virtually every driver south of the river. Overtaking on corners, cutting people up, tailgating... the adrenaline coursed through him as he weaved through the traffic without a care for the paintwork or bumpers of his or any other car.
‘Out of my way, you arse,’ he yelled, as a young woman dithered at the roundabout ahead of him. Why was the world filled with crap drivers? Couldn’t they see he was in a hurry?
Finally he pulled out into the stream of traffic ignoring the indignant blares of horns in his wake. This was life or death.
Twisting and turning through Wandsworth, he thought he’d never hit the Earlsfield Road.
‘Come on, come on,’ he muttered, tapping the steering wheel, his foot hopping up and down on the accelerator revving the engine rudely. ‘Now lady, now.’
Narrowly missing two schoolgirls hopping off at their bus stop and trying to cross the road, he swerved round the bus and picked up speed down Garrett Lane. Sod the thirty-mile-an-hour signs. If anything, he hoped the police would spot him. He’d lead them straight there.
Finally he turned into the street and threw the car into a space, uncaring that most of the back end stuck out into the stream of traffic. Grabbing his phone, he cut Barney off and tried Olivia’s phone again. It rang and rang eventually cutting to her voice, perky and upbeat inviting him to leave a message.
His voice dried in his mouth. What to say? There were a million things he wanted to tell her but he couldn’t get the words past the lump in his throat. How he felt? Where was she? Why wasn’t she answering? Punching the off button, he stuffed the phone in his pocket, threw open the car door and slammed it shut behind him. Horns blared as he raced across the road, putting his hand up in apology at the oncoming cars. As he came to a stop outside the flat, he anxiously scanned the first-floor windows above the shop. Nothing. No sign of life. No lights.
Then he went cold. The noise of the traffic receded and for a moment everything went black. He struggled to take a breath as his chest tightened at the sight of the scarlet coil of wool nestling into the doorstep like a pool of blood.
Every pulse point pounded as he tried to focus, the horrible facts adding up faster and faster.
‘Daniel! Over here.’ Barney’s voice came from a few houses up the street. ‘We just got here.’
Daniel immediately zoned in on Emily and without preamble, said, ‘We have to go in.’
‘We?’ In another situation the horror on her face might have been comical. ‘I’m not going in. What if he’s there?’
‘Exactly,’ snapped Daniel. ‘He is here. Look.’ He pointed to the cashmere scarf.
‘My scarf. I’ve been...’ her words ground to a halt and she stared up at Daniel, her face paling.
‘I thought we’d agreed that neither of you would be alone in the flat until he was caught,’ accused Daniel.
Emily opened her mouth as if to come up with an excuse but quickly thought better of it. ‘I... I... I thought you were being over the top. Besides, he’s probably harmless. It’s probably nothing to worry about.’
