The Attic Room: A psychological thriller - Huber Linda (бесплатная регистрация книга TXT) 📗

Utter stillness in the attic room. Oh God. What was he doing now?

‘Good, up you come. But remember I’ve got a gun, Nina. And nothing left to lose.’

But she had everything to lose. Paul’s plan had gone horribly wrong, from his point of view, and she had no intention of confronting him. And where the shit were the police?

‘Actually, I think I’ll stay right here and talk. You don’t have to do this, Paul, the police will find those scumbags for you. How did you get in here, anyway? The place was sealed.’

Was Sam alive? Nina’s world began to spin around in front of her eyes, and she crouched down till the dizziness passed. Paul was mad – was he a psychopath? Psychopaths could kill people without a second thought, couldn’t they? Look what he’d done to Sabine. But the important thing was to keep him talking until the police arrived.

A thump shook the staircase as Paul sat down on the stairs on his side of the door. Leaning sideways, Nina could see one of his feet. He began to talk, his voice cracking and strained.

‘Well, Nina, the kitchen window opens if you just breathe on it from the right direction. And you must know why I have to do this. Maybe you didn’t harm me personally, but your father did. And mine. And all their horrible friends. I was raped and assaulted every weekend, Nina. Years it went on. Can you imagine what it did to me?’

‘I can’t imagine, Paul, but there are people who could help you. Doctors, therapists. You don’t need to go through this alone and you certainly don’t need to hurt me and my family like this.’ She wished the words back the minute they were said. The last thing she wanted was to antagonise him.

Too late.

‘Me hurt you? That’s a joke. You know, Nina, before your Mam took you away, you came upstairs one day and found me crying after your Dad and one of his filthy friends had been having it off with me while my Dad took the photos. You started to cry too, because I was crying, and then your Mam came home and found us and God help me, I couldn’t tell her what had happened. I told her your Dad had hit us both. And paedophilia didn’t even cross her mind, she was so horrified that you, her precious baby, were hurt, but you hadn’t been hurt, Nina, it was me who’d been tortured and raped. And it was you who was taken away, your Mam saved you, Nina, but nobody saved me because my Mam was pissed out her mind on the sofa.’

The anger had gone and his voice was thick with tears. Nina began to feel sick. What on earth could she say to him? Maybe he would never get over what he had gone through. What wickedness there was in the world. That’s what Emily had said, and it was true.

A faint sound came from below as the front door opened and closed. The police, thank Christ. She had to keep talking now, keep Paul’s attention on the conversation. He mustn’t realise someone else was here.

Nina opened her mouth, but before she could speak he started to howl, a nerve-shattering high moaning sound, like an animal in pain. The sounds of him scrambling to his feet and running round the attic came down the stairs, and then she heard breaking china, the thump of something heavy and solid hitting the floor, and a series of muffled thuds. Shit, shit, he was kicking something – hell – was he kicking Sam?

Before she had time to think Nina was on her feet and running up to the attic room. If Sam was unconscious and being kicked… he could die here today, and she’d never get the chance to find out what they could have together.

‘Sam!’

‘Nina! Come down here!’ It was David’s voice, along with several pairs of heavy feet thudding up the stairs.

Nina stared across the attic. Sam was motionless on the middle of the floor, face down. The policeman was nearer, eyes closed and blood seeping into the floorboards from his left shoulder. Paul was crouched on the floor by the window, howling. Nina took a few steps into the room – and then she saw the gun in his hand. She froze.

When he spoke his voice was like an old man’s, weak and shaking. ‘Nina, Nina. How stupid do you think I am? I know you’ve got police there. And you know what? I’m going to make sure they can never touch me.’

Fear burned sour in Nina’s mouth. ‘Gunman goes on killing spree in Bedford attic.’ It might be tomorrow’s headline. And Naomi – Oh God, Naomi. How would she ever recover if Nina died here in a hail of bullets?

‘Paul, please. Let me help you.’

He was crying, pitifully, like a child in pain, and she was crying too. A dim memory slid into Nina’s head and then came sharply into focus. It was the day he’d talked about, the day Claire found them crying.

She was just a little kid, in her room, scared because Paul was up here in the attic, howling like he was now. She’d gone up to see why Paul was howling… She couldn’t open the door at first, but then she managed and she sneaked into this room and Paul was pulling his trousers up and running towards her, his face full of terror and disgust and loathing and pain… and she screamed and screamed and they fled from the attic and Paul slammed the door shut and he stood there and banged his head on the wooden T on the door, again and again, bang bang and she couldn’t stop him… then she screamed again and they stumbled back to her room together. Dear God, how could she have forgotten that?

Shaking, Nina glanced behind her. David was there with two other officers, and they were all armed. David jerked his head towards the stairway, but Nina shook her head. She took a careful step towards Paul and he lifted his head and gazed at her. His eyes were dark, and she had seen that expression before, that day when he’d run across the attic towards her…

‘All I wanted was to make them suffer too,’ he whispered. ‘They turned me into something I wasn’t, Nina. I never had a chance, I - ’ His voice broke.

Nina dropped to her knees and edged towards him. ‘Paul. You have a chance now. Come downstairs with me and I’ll help you. The police know you were a victim first. I won’t press charges, Paul, I promise. You could come to Arran, you could…’

His face was sheet-white and his eyes were unfathomable. ‘No. I couldn’t. But you’re right you won’t press charges, Nina. You won’t get a chance. I’m out of here.’

Before she could move he turned the muzzle towards his head and pulled the trigger. Nina screamed as David Mallony grabbed her and pulled her away. Paul was slumped on the floor under the window, a huge hole in his forehead. Her ears ringing, Nina pulled away from David and scrambled across the attic to Sam.

‘Sam? Sam, love!’ She dropped to her knees beside him and cradled his head. Thank God, he was breathing. She patted his face, and his eyelids flickered.

‘Sam, baby, hang on. David! Call an ambulance!’

‘Here already, they’re on their way up,’ said David, squatting beside the young policeman. ‘Steve? Keep still, help’s on its way.’

Nina knelt beside Sam, her arms round his head. Sam was hurt, Paul was dead, Naomi was God knows where, and she would never know exactly why Claire had acted as she did, all those years ago – but that was no longer important. Today was important… Sam had to be okay; she couldn’t lose him too. Paul had his peace now, but she and Sam were only at the beginning of their story. Please let them have a story.

Nina sobbed quietly as a green-clad paramedic bent over the still form under the attic window and then rose again, shaking his head.

Paul’s mission was over.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Sunday 30st July

Heathrow was mobbed as usual. Feeling more depressed by the minute, Nina glared round the crowds in the departures area.

‘Can I buy a magazine? Please? Except I don’t have any money left.’

Naomi was hopping impatiently from one foot to the other, and Nina made a face at her before handing over a ten pound note.