Captives: a completely gripping psychological suspense thriller by Jane Heafield

Author:Jane Heafield [Heafield, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books - crime, thrillers and mysteries
Published: 2023-04-11T16:00:00+00:00

Katrina stands facing the door, waiting to go to eat. She is in knickers and T-shirt. She wears no make-up. The purple dress is torn and splayed open by her feet. The floor is littered with pages that composed the three Robin Cook novels that had been sitting on the top of the bookshelf. Amongst this mess are fragments of porcelain, from the gaunt-face mask ornament. She had thrown it at the floor.

She has had it with this madman. When he comes to take her to the swimming pool, she will attack. The stand from the mask ornament is a base with a sharp pole, and she holds it behind her back. She will put it through his eye, or his throat. While he lies dying, she will go open doors, releasing all the captives. If some of the girls want to have a few moments to make him further regret being born, she won’t object. Would they get in trouble for killing him after what he did?

But when he comes, it is to the door hatch, which opens downwards and outwards to create a little shelf. His mask is framed within the square hole. The door itself remains shut, locked.

It was the dress, she realises. She should have worn the dress. Shouldn’t have trashed the room. Anyone could see she is in rebel mode. He knows her plan and is going to come nowhere near her.

‘Bring me the books from on top of the bookshelf. The ones you’ve read. Trickery equals forfeit.’

‘Balls to your books.’ She sweeps a hand to indicate the mess of pages around her. ‘Here they are. Come get them.’

‘Bring them.’

‘You want them? Sure thing, bozo.’

She gathers up some pages in two hands, goes to the hatch and tosses them out. He’s standing too far back to be hit, but he watches the pages fall. He bends down and lifts a torn cover, and shakes his head.

‘Not good. Bring me the mask ornament. No tricks.’

‘Piss off. Come get it.’

He doesn’t come in. Standing against the far wall of the corridor, well out of reach, he says, ‘I have news about your brother. About the world. Have you heard of the Leonid meteor shower? Debris from a comet falls to earth every November. But this year it isn’t a normal meteor shower. Debris the size of golf balls has been raining on the country.’

‘Well I hope one lands on your head and smashes it open.’

‘It’s funny you say that. There are thousands dead in that very way, all across the world.’

‘Piss off.’ That’s a snap reaction, but now she thinks about what he’s actually said. Can this be true? She’s got no way of knowing. ‘Show me a damn newspaper.’

‘I’ll try. Soon.’ He shuts the hatch.

‘Wait. Get back here.’ No response, other than his footsteps clopping away. She kicks the door. ‘Hey, you freak, come back.’

The footsteps fade. He’s gone. And it looks like she’s missing breakfast for her insolence.

Or he’s going for his gun.

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