His Silence - Chapter 84

I don’t have any signal in here, no matter how high I hold my phone. I can’t get hold of Max, let alone the police. Shit, I’ve got no way of calling for help. Max must’ve replied to my last message by now, but I wouldn’t know, not until I get signal. I thump my phone against my thigh and grit my teeth. It’s just gone one o’clock in the morning. I’m sitting against the wall, staring at the door ahead of me. There’s nothing I can do. There’s a steady, drip, drip, drip of water reaching my ears. But I can’t see where it’s coming from. Oliver’s going to leave me in here all night. This is my fault. I’ve put us both in danger.

There’s a groan to my left. It’s Callum. His eyes flicker open.

‘Jesus, what the –’

‘Callum, oh Callum you’re OK,’ I say flinging my arms around him, breathing in his scent.         

‘What the hell’s happened, where are we?’ he asks, his eyes flickering around the room.

I pull away from him. ‘What d’you remember?’ I ask.

‘I . . .’ he seems to still be taking the situation in. He rubs his forehead.  ‘I . . . I was with Mary, she asked to see me didn’t she, when we were washing up and . . . that’s all I can remember. I thought she wanted to have another session with me, like we’d had in the morning.’

Shit. Mary must’ve given him something to knock him out and then brought him here. I take in a deep breath. Someone else must’ve seen. They must’ve realised what was going on.

‘I don’t know why they’re doing this, Oliver told me in the annexe you were injured, but then when he brought me here, he locked me in. I thought you were dead when I saw you.’ Tears brim in my eyes. It’s alright, he’s OK.

He sits up straight, using his elbow to push himself up. ‘But why would they do this?’ he asks.

‘I don’t know,’ I say, shaking my head. There’s no way Oliver could know I’ve been in contact with Max, he hasn’t looked at my phone; I’ve had it with me the whole time. Could he have found Mum’s diary? But if he had he would’ve taken it, surely. ‘They must’ve given you some sort of sedative to knock you out.’

There’s a rattle on the other side of the door which makes me jump. I don’t move. Oh God, he’s coming back. The door swings open. I flinch, but it isn’t Oliver standing there, smiling at us. It’s Mary.

‘Ah, Callum you’re awake,’ she says, stepping further into the room. ‘I’m so pleased to see that.’     

I shrink back. She’s carrying a kitchen knife; it glints in the light of the flimsy bulb hanging above us. ‘Where’s Oliver?’ I say, spittle flying out of my mouth.

‘Oh, I told him to rest up, he’s fine,’ she says, smiling.

I didn’t want to know if he was fine. ‘Why are you doing this?’ I ask, gritting my teeth.

‘I would’ve thought that would be obvious, wouldn’t you, Danielle?’

I raise an eyebrow. She’s using my name. She’s not calling me Grace. What’s going on?

I shake my head. ‘I don’t know what you mean?’ I eye the door behind her, Callum and I could overpower her; we could make a break for it, run out of the house. But then what? I swallow. One swift movement from Mary and that could be the end; she could slide the knife straight into us.

Mary sits on the stone floor and runs her finger across the blade; it squeaks, making me wince. ‘Why don’t we have a nice little chat, Danielle, about Max, yes?’