The Last Witness

Ryall leant in closer. ‘Are you awake, Lorena?’

After a second, uncertainly. ‘…No.’ The eyes perfectly still again, no movement.

But Ryall wasn’t totally satisfied. Her answers had started to become evasive, weren’t really telling him anything, and as he straightened up from leaning over and let out a sigh, he was sure her eyes had flickered open momentarily. And she’d had to think for a second about her answer now.

But her eyes hadn’t opened to look at him, more at something over the far end of the room. He turned, following where she’d been looking: the Mountie bear from Canada.

He studied it for a moment perched on a dressing table at the far end of the room, then started moving closer towards it: obscured in heavy shadow, it was difficult to pick out much of its detail.

At the other end, Bell tensed as he watched Ryall peer towards him, moving closer. ‘Oh, shit!’

He glanced again towards the phone, wondering whether to call and abort. But he felt rooted to the screen, afraid to move even for a second in case he missed something. Ryall came to within two yards, then suddenly turned back again.

Ryall was sure he’d seen Lorena’s eyes flicker back shut again as he turned; as if she was curious where he was heading, what he was looking at.

‘What’s the game, Lorena?’ he asked, moving back towards her. No response. Her body and her eyelids suddenly frozen, deathly still. ‘I know you’re awake, so we can stop playing now, Lorena…’

Bell leapt for the phone, punched out the numbers. It rang once, twice. ‘For God’s sake…Come on!’ He banged his fist against the phone table.

‘…All that’s left now is for you to tell me.’ Ryall leant over Lorena’s inert body. He trailed a finger gently up her neck and moved close until he was only inches away, could feel her soft breath against his face. And for a second it would have been easy to believe she really was under his control, like every other night. His voice lowered to a chilling whisper. ‘Tell me… tell me. What’s the game?’

Lorena’s closed eyelids pulsed, a moment’s trembling uncertainty which Ryall could feel too through her body; then he watched in satisfaction as her eyes finally snapped open.

‘It wasn’t my idea… wasn’t my idea.’

The phone answered halfway through the third ring, and Bell was immediately passed on to a duty Sergeant. He frantically outlined the problem, his eyes still fixed on the screen six feet away: Lorena now sitting up, eyes wide, her head shaking as she pointed straight ahead at the camera lens.

The Sergeant said that Crowley had gone off duty over two hours ago. ‘…But we’ll phone him at home straightaway and mobilise at the same time.’

Ryall was now joining her in staring at the camera, this time with undisguised hostility. Then his voice came over strongly as he gripped Lorena by the shoulders, shaking her. ‘What have you done… What have you done?’

‘But for God’s sake hurry! There’s probably not much time left.’

‘We should have a squad car there in no more than six or seven minutes.’

Bell leapt back in front of the screen the second he hung up, his hand trembling uncontrollably as he reached out towards the screen again. ‘Hold on, angel. Hold on! We’ll be there soon.’

But he felt totally out of control. It was strange: able to watch every small movement, but unable to do anything. Like watching a sepia horror film which had suddenly spun in the wrong direction, and he’d had to phone someone else to stop the reels.

And as he saw Ryall throw Lorena back against the bed and move towards the camera, his face a mask of fury, he realized they’d probably be too late. He knew what was coming next: Ryall would rip the bear apart and destroy the camera, and it would be lights out: he wouldn’t see what happened when Ryall turned his rage back towards Lorena.

But two paces away from the camera with Ryall’s hand distorted as he reached out, Ryall suddenly stopped, turning towards the side.

‘What?… What the hell are you doing.’

‘What have you done… What have you done?’

The first sound that Nicola Ryall heard as she reached for the door handle. As she swung it open, he was moving rapidly away from the bed, seemed to be interested in something at the far end of the room — then stopped as he noticed her by the open door, eyes falling quickly to the gun as he asked her what the hell she was doing. A condescending, indignant sneer.

She raised the gun a fraction higher and pointed it at him. ‘Just don’t move!’ It sounded good on the movies, but coming from her, particularly with the tremor in her voice, it sounded lame, pathetic.

Ryall gave it the derision it deserved. ‘What, are you going to shoot me? You?’ One eyebrow raised, his mouth curled into a smile. ‘Anyway, that thing doesn’t even work.’

She hesitated only for a second; she was sure it was a bluff. ‘Yes it does. I tried it out only a few months back,’ she lied. And as she saw his face drop, she knew that it did work. She decided to pile it on. ‘I’m getting quite good with it now.’

Now he looked seriously worried, and raised his hands a bit. She relished the moment, the unfamiliar sense of power over him making her slightly giddy. She should have tried this earlier. She’d hardly ever been able to take control over her own life, let alone anyone else’s.

Ryall met her gaze stonily and shifted a foot back towards Lorena before Nicola waggled the gun at him. ‘I said don’t move.’ A frozen moment between them, then: ‘The phone ringing just then. It was about Mikaya. She tried to take her own life.’

‘What?’ His eyebrows knitted. ‘Is she okay?’

‘She is now.’ Heavy sigh that quickly turned to a sneer. ‘As if you should care. You’re the cause of it.’ She shook her head, her hand tensing on the gun. ‘I let you get away with it with Mikaya for all those years. But not now with Lorena. Not any longer.’

His eyes fixed back on the gun. He leered nervously. ‘You don’t have the guts.’

‘I wouldn’t bank on it.’ She moved a step closer.

Ryall could still pick up the tremor in her voice. He was sure that when it came to the crunch, she’d bottle out; but he wasn’t sure enough to take the risk. He desperately needed a distraction. His eyes darted uncertainly, sweat beads raising on his forehead. The bear!

He forced a strained smile. ‘Anyhow, you shoot me — they’ll get it all on film. They’ll know it wasn’t self- defence.’ He pointed. ‘They’ve got a camera in the bear.’

‘What?’ Nicola glanced towards it incredulously. Camera in the bear? She was the one meant to be on pills and alcohol. ‘Can’t you think of a better bluff than that.’ But as soon as she said it, she realized it was almost too ridiculous to be a bluff.

‘No, no — really. What do you think I was doing when you walked in? I was going to rip the bear apart and smash the camera.’

He was insistent, sounded convincing, and Nicola glanced towards Lorena for confirmation. Lorena just numbly nodded, and looking at her wide-eyed and fearful at this drama being played out, Nicola suddenly had something else to give her pause for thought. As much as he might be a monster, Lorena seeing her stepfather shot in front of her was quite another thing.

‘…So why don’t I just finish the job now and destroy the camera,’ he said. ‘Or better still, since you’re such a good shot — why don’t you shoot it out.’

Nicola looked between him and the bear. He was leering challengingly, as if this was some kind of test between them. If she backed down, once again he’d have the edge.

‘Go on,’ he taunted. ‘You’re the crack shot after all.’

She levelled the gun at the bear; but as the shaking of her gun hand became more pronounced, almost out of control, the game was all but over. He could see through the bluff in that second, see her for the sham she was; the pathetic, quivering wreck she’d become. Fifteen seconds of control in fifteen years: in the end all he’d allowed her.

His leer became wider. ‘You haven’t even got the stomach to shoot a toy bear, let alone me.’

She gritted her teeth hard, struggling to control her trembling, determined to prove him wrong.

As Ryall saw her focus her aim and tense to squeeze the trigger, he made his move, lunging towards Lorena.