Stuart James - Apartment 6

Oliver followed Claire down the hall, watching her, thinking how great she looked in skinny jeans and high heels; little effort, maximum attraction. He briefly thought how much he’d missed her, glad they were back in contact. They had so much to discuss, and Oliver was trying to work out how much he needed to tell her.

Claire stopped, turning suddenly. ‘Shit, Oliver. My phone, I’ve left it in the car. I’ll only be a second, okay.’

‘Seriously? All right, I’ll wait here. Hurry up, hun.’

Claire opened the front door and went around the building towards the car park.

Oliver waited. Finally, something was happening in his life to make him smile again. God knows he needed it now. He wanted to talk with Claire. There were things left unsaid, after all, she just upped and left him one morning, kissing his forehead, leaving behind the life they had. They were good together. She was beautiful, intelligent, often humorous. She had never explained what had happened, why she left.

Oliver stood in the communal hall, lost in his own thoughts. He’d talk with her, find out her story, listen to her explanation, and do his best not to be judgemental. Everyone deserves a second chance. He’d decided to play it out and enjoy the evening, so an immediate, full-on interrogation wasn’t the way to deal with this.

All of a sudden, it struck Oliver how long he’d been standing in the hall. Where is she, for crying out loud?

He went outside.

The car park was empty, Claire’s Ford Mondeo was alone in the far corner. The car doors were shut, the lights off. Oliver went around the side of the building, working his way closer to her vehicle. He swung his body round, looking behind in case she’d walked back a different way or decided to use the side entrance. But you needed a key to open it from the outside.

Oliver walked towards the fire escape at the back of the building. He felt panic as he quickened the pace, charging to the building’s front entrance, back towards the car park. He peered inside the car. The engine was still warm, the vehicle empty. What the fuck is going on? He had a bad feeling. Claire had gone to the car to fetch her mobile, but in the space of a couple of minutes, she’d vanished.

Oliver went to the street, jumping the three steps down to the main road, frantically searching, wondering if she’d gone to a shop to get more alcohol. Surely she’d tell me, but then she didn’t understand the danger I’m in. Shit, where the hell is she?

His mobile phone was upstairs. He should call her and see what had happened. He glanced along the street, watching the faces of pedestrians frustrated at having to change direction around him. He stood on the pavement deciding his next move. He thought about watching Claire’s car. If she’d had second thoughts, fine, it wouldn’t hurt him as much this time around. He’d deal with it.

Surely she wouldn’t leave and abandon her car, would she?

He wondered if he was being paranoid. Had all the shit that had gone down recently made him overprotective?

Oliver had to get upstairs and call her. He made for the communal doors at the front of the building and dashed along the hall and up the stairs.

Once inside his apartment, Oliver fetched his phone and tapped Claire’s number then listened for a dialling tone. It went straight to voicemail. Oliver hung up and redialled. The same thing – her voice, asking the caller to leave a message, with the promise of a call back.

‘Shit. Where is she?’ Oliver stumbled dizzily into the kitchen. He felt like he’d just returned from a heavy drinking session. He took a glass from the cupboard overhead, turned on the tap and gulped some water, poured more and threw it back.

He turned slowly, sure he could hear someone.

The guy from apartment seven, gloved-man’s partner in crime, knew where he lived, he knew what he’d done and was now coming for him. Oliver was sure of it.

He stood in the kitchen alone, the fridge humming like an irritating wasp at a picnic, and the clock was pounding, causing an ache in his eardrums. He looked around the kitchen. Something was out of place, something not right. He had felt it earlier.

Along the breakfast bar he saw a pile of bills, electricity and gas demands. Lying on top were two items of jewellery; a necklace Oliver had bought Claire when they first started dating, and a bracelet he’d seen dangling from Meagan’s wrist.

As Claire went to retrieve her phone from her car she had been excited about the evening ahead. She regretted walking out on Oliver a few months ago.

He was a good person and he looked after her. God, shouldn’t that be the priority in a relationship? The problem was that Oliver was demanding, hard work. They’d go out for a drink, and he’d ask that they sit in the corner, with Claire facing the wall so she could only look at him. He was jealous, insecure, with low self-esteem, and paranoia. She had to keep reassuring him – praising him, telling him over and over how great he was.

The night before she left, they’d been at a party; a friend of Claire’s. Oliver had too much to drink and was jealous when she’d spent time talking to a male colleague. She had seen Oliver grow angrier by the minute until he walked over and made a fuss, demanding they leave.

Her friend had made a stupid comment, a joke.

‘Oh, it’s like that is it?’ Oliver had inquired.

‘No, it’s not like that,’ Claire had replied. ‘Oliver, we’re not going anywhere. Come and join us.’

He had stormed out. Claire had joined him at home a half hour later.

She walked out the following morning.

But the weeks apart had made Claire realise she could deal with this, so she’d made up her mind. She was very much in love with Oliver and could work through anything for the sake of their relationship.

As she locked her car, checking her phone for messages, she saw a tall guy by the side doors of the car park. He was wearing a boiler suit with the words LIFT ENGINEER on the back. He smiled at her. ‘Got a key to get inside? It’s urgent. The lift alarm’s sounding: someone stuck between the first and second floor.’

Claire tried the door. ‘Wait there. My partner is in the hall at the front. I’ll get him to open it. Give me a second.’

‘Thanks, I appreciate it.’

As Claire turned, heading towards the front doors of the building, something soft came over her face and she felt herself being dragged bodily across the car park.

She struggled, kicking out, screaming under the face cover. Her heart was racing and she felt like she’d vomit at any second. Claire’s chest was about to explode. She tried desperately to rip the cloth from her head, struggling to breathe. She shook uncontrollably, her body spasming and she feared she’d faint. ‘Please let me go. I beg you,’ Claire screamed, managing to overcome the numb feeling in her lips.

‘Shut your fucking mouth, or I swear I’ll snap your neck right here.’

‘Please don’t do this. I beg you, don’t do this.’

As the guy pulled her body along the rough path, he punched her in the side of the head.

He dragged her further, then stopped, loosened his grip for a moment, but she was too shocked by the punch to react. The hood over her head slipped and she caught sight of the back of a truck.

The guy in the boiler suit tied rope around her, circling her body several times, making sure she was secure. He reached for another shorter piece of rope, wrapping it around her face and pulling tight. She heard a door open, and he threw her trembling body into the cargo area.

She felt the truck shift and start to move.

She thrashed and struggled, trying to get free.