Michael Robotham - Shatter

And then I hear another voice. The Professor takes the phone from her.

‘Who are you? What do you want?’

‘Want? Need? I want you to put your wife back on the phone.’

There’s a pause. I’ve never understood what people mean when they say a pause is pregnant. Not until now. This one is pregnant. This one is pregnant with a thousand possibilities.

Julianne is sobbing. The professor puts his hand over the mouthpiece. I can’t hear what he’s saying to her but I imagine he’s issuing instructions telling her what to do.

‘Put your wife back on the phone or I will have to punish Charlie.’

‘Who are you?’

‘You know who I am, Joe.’

There’s another pause.

‘Gideon?’

‘Oh, good, we’re using first names. Put your wife back on the phone.’

‘No.’

‘You don’t think I have Charlie. You think I’m bluffing. You told the police I was a coward, Joe. I tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to hang up and fuck your little girl and then I’ll call you back. In the meantime, I suggest you try to find her. Go on. Run along. Try Norton Lane, that’s where I found her.’

‘No! No! Don’t go!’

‘Put Julianne back on the phone.’

‘She’s too upset.’

‘Put her back on the phone or you’ll never see Charlie again.’

‘Listen to me, Gideon. I know why you’re doing this.’

‘Put your wife on the phone.’

‘She’s not capable of…’

‘I DON‘T GIVE A FUCK WHAT SHE‘S CAPABLE OF.’

‘OK, OK. Just give me a minute.’

He covers the phone again. He’s telling his wife to call the police on the fixed line. I pick up another mobile and punch in the number. The phone rings. Julianne picks up.

‘Hello, Mrs O’Loughlin.’

A sob catches in her throat.

‘If you let your husband take this phone from you your daughter will die.’

Her next sob is louder.

‘Stay with me, Mrs O’Loughlin.’

‘What do you want?’

‘I want you.’

She doesn’t answer.

‘May I call you Julianne?’

‘Yes.’

‘Let me tell you something, Julianne. If your husband takes this phone out of your hand, I will rape your daughter for a while. Then I’ll slice pieces off her body and hammer nails in her hands. And afterwards, I promise you this, I will cut out her pretty blue eyes and mail them to you in a box.’

‘No! No! I’ll talk to you.’

‘Only you can save Charlie.’

‘How?’

‘You remember when you were pregnant, how you kept those babies alive in your womb? Baby Emma and baby Charlie. Well, this phone is like an umbilical cord. You can keep Charlie alive only by staying on this line. Hang up and she dies. Let someone take the phone from you and she dies. Understand?’

‘Yes.’

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. She’s strong this one. A challenge.

‘Is your husband there, Julianne? Is he whispering in your ear like I’m whispering in Charlie’s ear? What’s he saying? Tell me what he’s saying or I’ll have to bruise her skin.’

‘He says you don’t have her. He says you’re bluffing. He says Charlie is at her friend’s house.’

‘Has he tried to phone her?’

‘Her number is engaged.’

‘He should go and look for her.’

‘He’s gone.’

‘That’s good. He should look outside… in the village. He should go to Abbie’s house. What about your nanny?’

‘She’s looking too.’

‘Maybe they’ll find her. I could be bluffing. What do you think?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Do you have caller display on this phone, Julianne?’

‘Yes.’

‘Look at the number. Do you recognise it?’

Her answer is not so much spoken as groaned. The strangled affirmation is trapped in her throat, barely able to get out.

‘Whose number is it?’

‘My husband’s mobile.’

‘What is Charlie doing with Joe’s phone?’

‘They swapped.’

‘Now you believe me.’

‘Yes. Please don’t hurt her.’

‘I’m going to make her into a woman, Julianne. All mothers want their daughters to grow up and become women.’

‘She’s just a child.’

‘Now, yes, but not when I’m finished.’

‘No. No. Please don’t touch her. I’ll do anything you want.’

‘Anything?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Because if you don’t do it, Charlie will.’

‘I’ll do as you say!’

‘Take off your clothes, Julianne, your skirt and that pretty topthe one with the metallic thread through it. Yes, I know what you’re wearing. I know everything about you, Julianne. I’ve already taken off Charlie’s jeans. I’m sorry but I had to cut them. I was very careful. I’m very good with scissors and a razor. I could carve my initials into her stomach. She’d have a souvenir to remember me by. And every man who ever looks at her naked will know that I was there first… in every hole.’

‘No, don’t.’

‘Are you taking off your clothes?’

‘Yes.’

‘Show me.’

She hesitates.

‘Stand at the bedroom window, open the curtains- I’ll be able to see you.’

‘Will you let her go?’

‘That depends on you.’

‘I’ll do what you want.’

‘Charlie is nodding. It’s so cute. Yes, that’s right, Mummy’s on the phone. Do you want to say hello? I’m sorry. Mummy hasn’t done what I asked, so you can’t talk to her. Are you at the window, Julianne?’

‘Yes.’

‘Open the curtains so I can see you.’

‘And you won’t hurt Charlie?’

‘Just open the curtains.’

‘OK.’

‘You need make-up. On your dressing table; the vermilion lipstick, I want you to put it on and I want you to wear the malachite necklace in the velvet box.’

‘How do you-?’

‘I know all about you… all about Charlie… all about your husband.’

‘Please let Charlie go. I did what you asked.’

‘Nakedness isn’t enough, Julianne.’

‘What?’

‘It’s not enough. Charlie can give me more.’

‘But you said-’

‘Surely you can’t expect me to give up a prize like this one. Do you know what I want to do, Julianne? Now that I’ve cut off your daughter’s clothes, I want to open up her flesh. I want to unzip her from her throat to her cunt so I can climb inside her. Then I’m going to hold her heart in my hands and feel it beating as I fuck her from the inside out.’

The long slow scream is like a mortar shell detonating in my ears.

Another pin has fallen.

The lock is almost open.

Her mind is giving way.

Memory feels like substance now. Memory is the only thing that’s real. I am running down Mill Hill, across the bridge, up the next rise between the hedgerows.

I talked to Charlie twenty minutes ago. Her friend Abbie lives about a mile along Norton Lane. How long does it take her to ride a mile? Any moment she’ll come around the corner, legs pumping, head down, tail up, imagining that she’s in the Tour de France.

I keep trying her mobile. My mobile. I gave it to her. We swapped so I could talk to Darcy. It’s engaged. Who is she talking to?

Norton Lane is a narrow strip of twisting bitumen, hugged by hedgerows, hawthorn bushes and fences. Vehicles have to reverse or pull into culverts to allow other cars or tractors to pass. In some sections the hedges are high and unruly, turning the lane into a green gorge, broken occasionally by farm gates leading to fields.

I see a flash of colour between the twisting branches. It’s a woman walking her dog. Mrs Aymes. She cleans houses in the village.

‘Have you seen Charlie?’ I yell.

Angry at being startled, she shakes her head.