Close Your Eyes: A gripping psychological thriller with a killer twist!

‘I’ve waited a very long time to have this conversation with you.’

‘I’m sorry, but I really don’t—’

‘A long time ago you took something that didn’t belong to you.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I want it back, Michael.’

‘My name isn’t Michael, you have the wrong number.’

He laughed. The sound menacing and full of intent. He spoke like he was toying with me. His voice calm and measured, it was clear that he had done this before.

Then my tired mind caught up with me and I relaxed a little, there was only one feasible conclusion; ‘Is this some sort of sick joke? Matty, is that you?’

‘This is no joke.’ There was not even a hint of humour in his voice.

I placed my hand on my pillow and screwed a handful of it up in my fist. My knuckles turned white. ‘Listen to me. I don’t know anything about taking something from anyone. If you call me again I’m going straight to the police.’

‘I wouldn’t if I were you.’

His comment fired something inside, an anger I hadn’t felt before, yet it felt normal. Like a song that I’d not heard in a very long time, but still knew the words to.

‘Are you threatening me?’ I said, getting to my feet. I pushed my shoulders back, stood up straight, planted my feet. It was as though I were ready for a fight.

‘Just giving you some friendly advice.’

‘I’m hanging up now.’

Just as I moved the phone away from my ear I heard him speak again. One word that snapped me from anger to terror. The name of my son.

‘Thomas is a handsome little boy, isn’t he?’

My entire world shifted under my feet as I could feel panic rising up in my throat, its white heat burning until it blurred my vision. This man threatening me filled me with rage, and in saying Thomas’s name, he made me feel afraid, like a child lost.

‘He’s safe, so is Rachael. For now.’

‘What?’

‘Michael, you have something I want. I have something you want.’

‘Who is this? Rob? Stop pissing around would you.’ I clung to the hope that this was just a joke.

No sooner had I said that than the phone pinged against my ear and, looking at the screen, I saw there was a new text message from an unknown number. I saw it was a multimedia message and once I opened it, everything changed. The image I looked at knocked me backwards and I had to grab the wall to stop myself from falling. It caught my breath and pulled it out from my chest, crushing my lungs as it did.

I could feel my heart pounding, blood rushing through my ears, my lips tingling. The picture was of Rachael. She was gagged with her hands tied behind her back looking at the camera, terrified. In the picture I could see a wheel arch that you would find in the back of a large van. Beside her, in the shadows of her body, against the camera flash was Thomas. He looked asleep, almost peaceful. I thought I was going to pass out.

‘Does it look like I’m pissing around?’

‘Who are you?’

‘That doesn’t matter.’

‘What have you done to them?’

‘Nothing. Yet.’

‘Have you hurt my son?’

My question was answered by silence.

‘Please, please let them go. If you want me for something come to me, take me, just let them go, please, please let my boy go home.’ I was grasping at anything I could. This had to be a horrible joke, surely? Things like this didn’t happen outside of movies.

‘As I’ve said, Michael. I will, when I get back what is rightfully mine. There is an easy deal on the table here.’

‘Please, don’t hurt Rachael. I’m begging, please don’t hurt them.’

‘Give me back what is mine and I won’t.’

‘But I don’t—I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never taken any—’

‘I know I don’t have to tell you this’.’ He cut me off. ‘But if you call the police, the next time you’ll see your family is on the news when they’re dragging their bodies out of a river.’

‘Please, I don’t understand, I—’

‘You have until Friday.’

And then the line went dead.

Tuesday

Chapter 8 (#ulink_fb1a663d-c280-5c73-8c01-25c320d43582)

Rachael

The Garage

2

January 2018, 12.09 a.m.

We had a lovely New Year’s Day together as a family. We went to the seaside and ate fish and chips in the freezing cold. All three of us wrapped in coats, gloves and scarves, Sean and Tom skimming stones into the sea until it was so cold we gave up and drove home. Then, we watched TV, Tom had a bath and then Sean and I got into our own bed and talked about what we’ll need to do to the house before the little one comes, until, at just after 9, excited and exhausted from the late night and sea air, we turned off our lights and went to sleep.

At 10 Sean was sound asleep and as I rolled onto my side, trying to curb my excitement long enough to join him in the land of dreams, I heard something downstairs, like the sound of a coat being dropped. Then it happened, it happened so fast.

They came into our room, two of them. One a very large man, one smaller, both in balaclavas, and before I could shout out the large one dragged me off the bed by my ankle and dropped me like a ragdoll. My instincts taking over to protect my stomach as I landed meant I hit my head on the carpeted floor. I saw Sean, dazed from waking to the horror trying to fight the other one. He was hit hard and toppled over the side of the bed, the small one falling on him as the fight continued. I also tried to fight, not to escape but to get into Tom’s room and protect my baby. But the man was too strong. He pinned me down and pressed his knee into my back, his weight crushing my ribs. He was forcing my hands behind and upwards with such violence I thought my shoulders were going to come out of their sockets. I could feel tendons pull and I felt a muscle, one in my rotator cuff, tear. I wanted to cry out, instead I bit my lip to muffle my scream. I didn’t know what was happening, or why it was happening to us and I hoped Tom hadn’t woken. I pleaded he wouldn’t hear the noise of our struggle and come into the room. I prayed they didn’t know he was there. I held my breath until the pain died down before mustering the energy to escape and get to Tom, but I couldn’t move, my captor was too heavy.

Then I saw him, my child in the arms of the smaller man. There was no sign of Sean. With my face pressed into the floor I strained my eyes to look at my baby. His arms were swinging by his side, his legs limp, he looked asleep but there was no way he would sleep through what was happening. For a moment I thought he was dead but then I saw his chest rise and fall. I tried to shout for help, but a wide hand came from behind and pinned my voice in.