Nowhere to Run: A brand new totally gripping psychological thriller full of twists by NJ Moss

Author:NJ Moss [Moss, NJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books - crime, thrillers & mysteries
Published: 2024-03-14T00:00:00+00:00

24

HIM

There’s this rushing, pulsing, interesting energy in my body and my mind. I’ve never done this before. The script has changed. This is, suddenly, as new for me as it is for Katy. She stands at my side, her hands wrapped across her middle, being docile and well behaved… for now.

This house is upscale, ivy creepers, sturdy stone build, a long, wide driveway separated by hedges. I only saw the lights on because of the angle of the terrain. Nobody in the adjacent houses would be able to see much of what happens on this property.

I peer through the vertical window next to the door as an elderly lady approaches. She’s got a sinewy look, a toughness in her demeanour. I’m good at identifying weak people and she, although physically a non-factor, obviously, isn’t weak.

“I hope you don’t make me kill this woman,” I tell Katy. “Two elderly ladies in one night might wear on my soul.”

Mistake number one – the woman opens the door. The safeness of society has led to a massive decrease in basic awareness. Never, ever open your door to a stranger, preferably at any time, but definitely at night, and especially if you’re old or female or otherwise less capable. I’m sure she feels a prickling discomfort at the sight of us, but she’s ignoring it, letting her British sensibilities overrule her reason.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, miss.” I’ve got my head bowed, behaving as her son might if he’s done something wrong. It’s a surefire way to make old women like me. “I know this must be very surprising and inconvenient for you. Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if I had another option.”

This disarms her. I’ve put myself at her feet. She’s still slightly wary, but her posture has relaxed slightly. “It’s no bother. I wasn’t sleeping.”

“It’s a delicate matter. See, my sister here…” I nod at Katy, who’s staring off into space like we agreed, looking spaced-out and weird. I lean forward, lowering my voice. “She suffers from schizophrenia. She’s had us all worried sick tonight, driving all the way into the woods. She’s been leading me on a wild goose chase. Anyway, long story short is, my car is broken – don’t ask me how, I’m no mechanic…”

A charming smile, a chuckle, staring into her eyes, willing her to laugh. And she does. I haven’t said anything funny. It’s the middle of the night. I’ve just told her this woman is mentally ill. We’re strangers. And she’s laughing.

“And my mobile is out of battery. She took the train out here and she’s ditched her mobile. I was wondering if…”

“The phone?” she says. “Of course.”

I could probably gain entry here, but it’s always better to put in the extra effort to obliterate their defences. Much of this – most of it, in fact – is non-verbal. It’s in the subtle changes in my posture, the eye contact, the careful shape of my smile. Lots of people think they can fake emotion well, but they’re transparent.

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