Dead Man's Gift 01 - Yesterday Read Free Page B

parties, Christmas celebrations- now like a prison cell. Some of the time they’d talked, in sporadic, hopeless bursts about the situation they’d found themselves in; other times, they’d sat in heavy, fearful silence, waiting to hear what would happen next.
    And now it seemed they were about to find out.
    ‘So you saw what we can do?’ said the voice.
    ‘You didn’t have to kill her,’ said Tim. ‘Gina had nothing to do with any of this.’
    ‘It helps to focus the mind, Mr Horton. The fact that we won’t hesitate to murder an innocent young woman tells you that we won’t hesitate to murder your son either.’
    Diane let out a small, painful moan and Tim gave her the most reassuring look he could muster.
    ‘How do I know he’s not dead already?’
    Diane moaned again, fighting back tears.
    ‘We sent you a photo. We’ll send you another one later.’
    ‘You could have already taken them. I need some guarantees.’
    ‘Shut up, Horton.’
    The command was like a slap, reminding him suddenly of being back at school in the headmaster’s office, utterly powerless.
    He took a deep breath, looking over at Diane, who was bent over in the chair with a hand in her mouth.
    ‘You need to calm down,’ said the voice, sounding more conciliatory. ‘Now listen carefully. Your son hasn’t seen our faces. He has no way of connecting us to his abduction – just as you haven’t. Therefore there’s no reason for us not to keep him alive, nor to release him once you’ve done what you have to do.’
    ‘Tell me what I have to do.’
    ‘I’ve already told you, Mr Horton. You have to die. It’s as simple as that.’
    ‘Why can’t I just give you money? We’ve got plenty. I’ll give you everything we’ve got. Just let us have our son back. Please.’
    ‘We don’t want your money. We want your life. I know it’s hard to accept, but it means that your son lives. Your life for his. Call it a dead man’s gift.’
    Tim felt dizzy, his heart thumping like a hammer now as panic fought to take hold. He turned away from Diane so he didn’t have to look at her. ‘How?’ he asked. ‘How am I meant to… … to die? And when?’
    ‘The when’s easy enough. At eleven a.m. tomorrow. I’ll give you the details of the “how” when you need them, and not before.’
    ‘I’m attending a House of Commons select committee hearing at eleven,’ said Tim, as if this somehow made everything else irrelevant.
    ‘We know,’ said the voice coolly.
    And that was when Tim realized who the ‘we’ the voice kept referring to were. It took all his self-control not to throw down the phone and run and hide somewhere – anywhere – because now he realized who he was up against, and the complete hopelessness of his situation. ‘You want me to do it there?’ he asked incredulously.
    ‘As soon as we have confirmation of your death,’ said the voice, ignoring his question, ‘your son will be released in a quiet, safe place not far from where you live, and you, Mrs Horton, will be informed where to find him. In the meantime, you need to keep an eye on your husband, make sure he doesn’t do anything that puts your son’s life at risk. Do you understand?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Diane, and Tim detected something in her voice, even though she was trying to hide it. Hope.
    ‘Good. From now on you’re both to stay where you are, in the dining room, with your phones in front of you on the table. You will sleep in this room. You will not leave it at any point –’
    ‘What if we want to go to the toilet?’ demanded Tim, his voice unusually shrill. ‘For Christ’s sake, don’t make us do it in here!’
    ‘You can go to the toilet, but if either of you leave the room more than once in any four-hour period, your son will suffer.’
    ‘Okay. I understand.’
    ‘If anyone phones you, you will act normally. You will give no hint of the pressure you’re under. You will make no phone calls of your own. If you break either of those two