No Way Out Read Free

without knocking. She’d had this room since she was a baby, and he loved coming in here. It was a sanctuary for him – time for father and daughter to catch up; their private time, he called it. He never needed to knock, and the lock on the outside of the door was from long ago. He rarely needed to use it now. In fact, since she’d hit her teens, the lock on the inside had proved far more useful.
    ‘Eleanor?’ he called, pushing through into her bathroom, half expecting to see her in the shower. She wasn’t there.
    Back in the kitchen, he poured himself a large glass of red wine. Bertie thumped his tail against the wall, letting out one begging bark. ‘Hasn’t she bloody well fed you?’ Marcus chucked handfuls of dog biscuits into a bowl, but the Lab just stood there looking at him. His tail stopped wagging.
    ‘What are you staring at?’ Marcus said, suddenly feeling self-conscious in his own house. He pulled back his foot to give the dog a nudge, but the animal ran off. Lisa hadn’t trained him well.
    Sitting in his favourite chair in the library, Marcus took out his phone. He speed-dialled Lisa’s number, but it went to voicemail. Then he tried Eleanor’s, but the same thing happened. It wasn’t like them not to be at home, and Lisa knew how he occasionally liked to spend Saturday night in their company. What was she playing at? If they’d had a last minute invite, she should have run it by him first. He was too tired to go out. He wondered if it was a family gathering, not that there were many of those these days, or perhaps some other event he’d forgotten about. Either way, he was annoyed she hadn’t told him.
    Sighing, he logged into the tracking app he’d put on each of their phones. Location not found was the message for both.
    Marcus reached for the remote control and jabbed a button. The wooden panel above the mahogany partners’ desk drew up, retreating cleverly into a slot below the ceiling. A large television screen was exposed, and he flicked it on to the sports’ channel. His phone beeped on the table beside him.
    ‘About time,’ he said, hating that she’d texted instead of calling, despite him telling her a thousand times he preferred to speak. She clearly had something to hide. But the text was from a number he didn’t recognise.
    I have your wife and daughter
.
    Marcus sat upright in the reclining leather chair.
    ‘What the …?’ He stared at the handset, standing up, thinking that would somehow help. ‘What the fuck? Who
is
this?’
    Immediately, he rang the number. No one answered.
    Who are you? What do you mean?
he texted back. He didn’t have time for this. He’d been planning on relaxing tonight, enjoying the meal that Lisa should have prepared. If she were here.
    Nothing came back from the number for half an hour. He’d polished off half a bottle of wine by then, and it had grown dark outside. Rain sheeted against the kitchen window. Several times he’d looked at the text, but it didn’t make any sense. People were idiots, not leaving a name. How was he supposed to know who it was? No doubt Lisa’s and Eleanor’s phones had run out of power, and whoever they were with had done a bad job of passing on a message. It was unhelpful to say the least.
    Bertie lay on the cold tiles, letting out several empty-bellied growls. Marcus ushered him through to the utility room and shut the door. He had a bed and water, and besides, he smelt bad today. Lisa obviously hadn’t taken him to the grooming parlour this week.
    Back in the library, with a new bottle of wine on the table beside him, he swiped open his phone.
    Do as I say if you ever want to see them again
.
    Shit.
    Marcus sat up, went rigid as if the act of being concerned would help. He stared at the words, bringing the glass to his mouth and drawing in a long slug of Cabernet. It left a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth.
    Was this serious? He had no idea. And he had no idea what he was supposed to do, either. He