She was too late.
Hurriedly, she got back on the bed and let the chain slip to the floor. Her hands were shaking and she felt fear running up her spine. Was this it? The last seconds of her life, in a dingy, cold basement miles from home?
Silence.
She made no move to put on the hood as she stared towards the staircase.
The light came on, and she squinted against its brightness.
'Emma,' came a voice from the top of the steps, 'it's me.'
She felt a surge of excitement. It was the smelly one. She was going to be OK.
'Hi,' she said quietly. 'I'm here.'
'Put your hood on, honey. OK? It's almost time to go home.'
She did as she was told, hardly able to believe her luck.
'Am I honestly going home?'
'That's right,' he answered in that wheezy voice of his. 'It's over. Your mum paid the money so you don't have to stay here any more.'
She heard him come close. Smelled him, too, the BO so strong now it made her gag beneath the hood. He put something down on the floor by the bed and she thought she heard water sloshing.
'Am I going to go now?'
'Very soon. We'll just get you ready. Then there'll be a little journey, and that'll be it. Back home to your mum. First I'm going to give you a little wash, though. So you're all nice and clean.'
She felt a wet sponge on her left arm. It made her feel cold and itchy. He ran it slowly up and down before starting on the other one.
'Bet that feels good, doesn't it?'
'You don't need to do this. I can wait until I'm home.'
'I want to do it.'
He moved her arms to one side and lifted up her T-shirt, rubbing the sponge on her tummy in small circles. Water dripped down towards the top of her skirt, and she heard him swallow. It was a really horrible sound, like something a frog would make.
'What are you doing?' she whispered.
'Just washing you, darling,' he replied, lifting her T-shirt higher. Swallowing a second time.
That was when she realized with a sickening feeling that the nightmare hadn't ended after all.
Forty-eight
The driveway that led down to Woodlands Farm was situated on a quiet wooded road half a mile south of the M25, a simple wooden sign attached to a beech tree announcing its presence. There were no other houses in the immediate vicinity, making Bolt think that it would be an ideal place to hold someone without arousing suspicion.
The tension coursed through him. Scott Ridgers had motive; he'd worked at Andrea's place and then disappeared at the same time that Emma had gone missing. And as a fully fledged city boy, why else would he be out here in the back of beyond?
Not wishing to announce his presence, Bolt drove thirty yards further along the road before pulling up on the verge and manoeuvring his car as far into the trees as it would go. He killed the lights and got out. Through the darkness created by the thick concentration of trees, he thought he could just make out lights, but it was difficult to tell. According to the sat-nav, Woodlands Farm was set back at least a hundred yards from the road.
Knowing how short time was, he moved swiftly, making for the driveway. His plan was to approach from the front as quietly as possible and recce the place. If there was no sign of Ridgers, he'd break in. He'd taken the law into his own hands enough times today to worry about doing it again, and it was possible that his actions had already cost him his job.
The advantage, however, was that he now had nothing to lose.
Forty-nine
Emma knew what was coming. The dirty, stinking pervert wanted to have sex with her. Was
A gloved hand touched her knee, and she gagged beneath the hood.
She had an idea. It was her only chance.
'Can you undo the handcuffs?' she asked, trying to make her voice sound as if she might be interested in what he was about to do to her. 'Then maybe we can . . .' She let the words trail off.
'You're not teasing me, are you?' he said, seriously. 'I don't like girls who tease me. I've had too much of that recently.'
'No, course not. I've done it before, you know.'
