Chapter Six
She hung limply in his arms as the man picked her up and carried her effortlessly into the house. In the hallway he stared suspiciously about him, but there was no sign of a third person. From the rear of the house came the sound of crashing undergrowth. The man listened alertly, standing motionless. A voice, thick with rage, harsh with hate and pain, bellowed warningly: “I'll be back. So help me, you'll pay for this. Do you hear me? I'll be back to make you pay.”
The man in the hall subconsciously held the girl closer to him, protectively, as he waited. Silence fell around the house, A huge marmalade cat padded softly through an open door, then paused warily, yellow eyes staring impassively at the figures in the hallway. The man ignored the cat. He listened for a few more moments, then, deciding that whoever had yelled the threat was no longer a danger, he carried the girl into a familiar, chart lined room that was Agatha‘s study.
He rested the girl in a large armchair and quickly, knowledgeably examined her body for evidence of injury. He noted the state of her hands, the scratches and bruises on her legs. But all these were superficial. Satisfied that there was no serious physical damage, he stood up and gazed curiously at the unconscious girl. A strap of her bikini top had slipped from one shoulder and he carefully replaced it, covering a half exposed breast, He brushed the tangle of hair from her face and wondered who she was, who she had been fleeing from, what had happened.
The cat had followed him into the room, watching him relentlessly, and now prepared to follow him again as he picked up the girl and headed for the stairs. On the landing he opened the door nearest to hand and was pleased to find a bed made and ready. He pulled back the covers and gently laid the girl to rest, covering her bruised and dusty figure, fetching an extra blanket from a drawer in the dresser. Shock required warmth and rest, and he had no doubt that she was in a state of shock. The cause of which he would find out later. He glanced about the room, then softly closed the door behind him. The cat leapt onto the bed and settled itself watchfully at the girl's feet. Downstairs, the man brought a small, battered, canvas holdall into the house and tossed it carelessly on the hall floor. He closed and locked the front doors, then proceeded to inspect every room in the house, ensuring that each was empty. He moved swiftly and silently, his body having the grace and movement of physical training, but without the power or muscularity of an athlete. In the kitchen he gazed thoughtfully at the kitchen utensils littering the floor before picking up each piece and stacking them on the table.
He frowned at the sight of the broken glass panel in the door. He did not like the picture that was beginning to form in his mind, and he thought of the girl lying upstairs. He left the house, to re-appear minutes later with wood and a hammer and nails, and he boarded up the space in the door. Satisfied that the house was reasonably secure, he filled the electric kettle and made coffee in a cup, carrying it through to the study. He sat at Agatha's desk and idly flipped through the notes she had written. He found her diary and read through the pages. Then he sat thoughtfully digesting what he had read as he sipped his drink. Soon, he rose and went up to the bedroom where the girl was resting.
As the bedroom door opened, the cat leapt to its feet, back arched threateningly, then it subsided when it recognized him. He settled himself into the armchair and waited for the girl to awaken.
Lucy fought against returning consciousness. The darkness surrounding her mind was calm and comforting, but now it was fading, the harshness of reality was beginning to illuminate her thoughts and battle. Her mind slowly returned to the present and memories of the recent past crowded horribly into her mind. She remembered vividly running from the house and hateful hands grasping her, holding her..... then nothing more, until now. She lay still, her eyes tightly closed. She did not want to discover what had happened to her after her capture. Her mind shrunk from the possibilities. So she lay motionless, hardly daring to breath.
But slowly the fear and panic left her. She wondered where she was. It was warm and comfortable. She moved her fingers slightly, exploratively against smooth, cool material. And she recognized the clean, fresh smell of her own bed linen. Her heart beat frantically. So she was in bed: But where was he? Was she alone? She shuddered involuntarily at the realization that he might be lying next to her. The movement brought no response. And her fingers touched the lower half of her bikini. At least she was still dressed. She forced calmness upon herself. Think rationally, she urged herself. She could feel no pain, except for a dull ache in her arms and legs, which was only to be expected, she reasoned. But apart from that - nothing. And still there was no sounds around her. She must be alone.
She opened her eyes and stared breathlessly, expectantly at the expanse of discolored ceiling above her. If anything was to happen, it would surely happen now, now that she was awake. She noticed the web of a small Spider in the corner of the ceiling and it seemed reassuringly normal and commonplace. Cautiously, she sat upright. Tabitha was resting on the bed and she felt