appeared next to him, thanking Sam for his help. Both wore placid expressions. Suddenly, the serene words coming out of their mouths began to speed up. They were gibbering. Talking too fast. Their words made no sense to Sam. Then the faces began to look frightened. More and more so, until they were completely enveloped in fear. The noises coming from their mouths became one. A joint, continuous scream for help.
Just that one word.
Help.
Over and over again.
The two faces then distorted until they became unrecognisable. Sam groaned in his sleep.
Then the faces re-formed into two he knew so very, very well. A woman and a young girl. Both had their eyes wide open. Tears streamed down their cheeks. Pictures of horror were painted on their faces. Features contorted in sheer terror. Crying out for help at the top of their voices.
Please! Help!
Help!!!
Sam woke himself up screaming. He was drenched in sweat and shaking furiously. Tears rolled from his own eyes. He wouldn't go back to sleep now. He never did.
The dream often had a different beginning, but it always ended the same.
The same nightmare ending.
Every single night for the last two years.
Chapter 5
Waves of nausea. A banging head. Throat like sandpaper. Body devoid of all energy.
The usual symptoms. They didn't matter this morning. Sam had made a decision. Grimacing as he washed a couple of tablets down his throat, it dawned on him he never really had a choice. Not in his current situation, despite his misgivings. Once fate stepped in and Carl Renshaw came calling, there was only one thing he was ever going to do.
He made the phone call.
***
Molly Renshaw brushed her hair while gazing thoughtfully at her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. She was worried about her husband. Having been married to Carl for over twenty years, she knew when something wasn't right with him. Lately, he had been alternating between quiet moods and nervous agitation. Disappearing on a whim. Taking secretive phone calls.
She had wondered if it was another woman but immediately dismissed the idea. Unfortunately, they had been through that scenario once before, many years ago. With a tinge of sadness, she recalled his behaviour at that time only too well. No, this was different.
She was fully aware of Carl's shady past. She had willingly gone along with him in their formative years together, aware of the risks he was taking, openly tolerating the danger of living life with a man on the edge. Then, over the last dozen years or so, she had reaped the rewards. A settled marriage and two beautiful daughters. Not to mention a successful business, wonderful home and plenty of money to go around. Life was good now, and she didn't want anything spoiling it.
So, for the next few hours her focus would be on the girls. She was taking the twins shopping. A bit of retail therapy to take their minds off yesterday's incident in the garden.
She would talk to Carl later.
***
Sam guided his car around the tight bend and continued along the narrow lane at low speed. He scanned the hedgerows bordering the side of the road, looking for the entranceway to Carl's home. According to the directions Carl had given him, he should be nearly there.
Carl had sounded delighted to receive Sam's phone call that morning, asking him to drop by the same afternoon as his wife and children were going to be out, explaining to Sam he preferred they have their chat without his family present. No need to alarm them, he had insisted.
Sam spotted the large white plaque he was looking for. It was attached to a concrete post, pronouncing the property within as The Elms. Sam turned into the entrance and steered the car down a gravelled driveway. He drove on for a couple of hundred yards before a large white house loomed up before him. Parked in front of it were an Aston Martin and a Jaguar, both gleaming and in immaculate condition. Sam considered Carl Renshaw must be a very wealthy man indeed.
Bringing his
Just that one word.
Help.
Over and over again.
The two faces then distorted until they became unrecognisable. Sam groaned in his sleep.
Then the faces re-formed into two he knew so very, very well. A woman and a young girl. Both had their eyes wide open. Tears streamed down their cheeks. Pictures of horror were painted on their faces. Features contorted in sheer terror. Crying out for help at the top of their voices.
Please! Help!
Help!!!
Sam woke himself up screaming. He was drenched in sweat and shaking furiously. Tears rolled from his own eyes. He wouldn't go back to sleep now. He never did.
The dream often had a different beginning, but it always ended the same.
The same nightmare ending.
Every single night for the last two years.
Chapter 5
Waves of nausea. A banging head. Throat like sandpaper. Body devoid of all energy.
The usual symptoms. They didn't matter this morning. Sam had made a decision. Grimacing as he washed a couple of tablets down his throat, it dawned on him he never really had a choice. Not in his current situation, despite his misgivings. Once fate stepped in and Carl Renshaw came calling, there was only one thing he was ever going to do.
He made the phone call.
***
Molly Renshaw brushed her hair while gazing thoughtfully at her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. She was worried about her husband. Having been married to Carl for over twenty years, she knew when something wasn't right with him. Lately, he had been alternating between quiet moods and nervous agitation. Disappearing on a whim. Taking secretive phone calls.
She had wondered if it was another woman but immediately dismissed the idea. Unfortunately, they had been through that scenario once before, many years ago. With a tinge of sadness, she recalled his behaviour at that time only too well. No, this was different.
She was fully aware of Carl's shady past. She had willingly gone along with him in their formative years together, aware of the risks he was taking, openly tolerating the danger of living life with a man on the edge. Then, over the last dozen years or so, she had reaped the rewards. A settled marriage and two beautiful daughters. Not to mention a successful business, wonderful home and plenty of money to go around. Life was good now, and she didn't want anything spoiling it.
So, for the next few hours her focus would be on the girls. She was taking the twins shopping. A bit of retail therapy to take their minds off yesterday's incident in the garden.
She would talk to Carl later.
***
Sam guided his car around the tight bend and continued along the narrow lane at low speed. He scanned the hedgerows bordering the side of the road, looking for the entranceway to Carl's home. According to the directions Carl had given him, he should be nearly there.
Carl had sounded delighted to receive Sam's phone call that morning, asking him to drop by the same afternoon as his wife and children were going to be out, explaining to Sam he preferred they have their chat without his family present. No need to alarm them, he had insisted.
Sam spotted the large white plaque he was looking for. It was attached to a concrete post, pronouncing the property within as The Elms. Sam turned into the entrance and steered the car down a gravelled driveway. He drove on for a couple of hundred yards before a large white house loomed up before him. Parked in front of it were an Aston Martin and a Jaguar, both gleaming and in immaculate condition. Sam considered Carl Renshaw must be a very wealthy man indeed.
Bringing his
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