Dad got up without warning and I took a step back. I couldn’t work out what to do. I couldn’t cry. Carl hovered nervously by the door. I could tell he wanted to run away.
Dad looked bigger than ever.
He had drawn the picture.
And he had made the trap.
And now we were about to kill Mum.
‘Come on, Liv,’ he said, and I followed him, without wanting to.
First we went back to the man in the white room. He lay very still with his legs and arms stretched out and his mouth gagged. The ropes from his wrists and ankles to the bedposts were taut. When Dad entered, he raised his head slightly and looked at us.
Dad just glanced at him, then pulled me outside. He closed the door behind him.
‘You wait here and keep guard, Liv. He can’t escape, but you keep guard and use your bow, if necessary. I’ll go over to the house and move some things out of the way so we can bring in the tub.’
‘I want to talk to Mum,’ I whispered through the beginning of tears.
Dad bent down and looked me in the eye. His face was so close to mine that I could feel his beard and the brim of his cap.
His eyes hung right in front of mine like hard, black stones. They were no longer crying. They weren’t even shiny. They weren’t Dad’s eyes. They were stones.
‘No,’ he said. ‘You stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.’
I don’t know how long he was gone. I only know that the sun had reached the chimney on the house. There were no clouds at all. The sky was big and blue.
Pupating
The glow from the candlelight didn’t reach Jens Horder’s eyes when he showed her the pills. In his other hand he held a glass of water.
Maria saw only his hands. They were shaking.
She nodded and slowly opened her mouth. The corners of her mouth were cracked. She was thirsty and tired.
For a moment she felt his lips on her forehead.
Quivering like a butterfly.
Then he disappeared back into the darkness. She heard his footsteps down the stairs. The sound of heavy objects being dragged across the floor below. Him groaning.
Perhaps he was crying.
Then she found the notepad by her side.
And her very last bit of strength.
I THINK THAT’S IT
The Captive
The gag cut into the corners of his mouth, and Roald had to breathe deeply through his nose to keep the nausea at bay. The fact that the air in the room was so suffocating didn’t help either. He had to stay focused. He had to ignore the smell and value the oxygen which, after all, it still contained. If he didn’t concentrate, his fear of choking would overpower him. Throwing up would be the end of him. If the cold he had only recently got rid of crept up on him now and blocked his nose, that would also be the end of him. What about sneezing? Was it possible to sneeze when you had a gag pressed into the back of your mouth? Surely the sneeze would explode in his throat and choke him? He had to keep reminding himself about the oxygen. There was oxygen in the air and free passage through his nose. He breathed deeply and tried getting his pulse down. And he tried to think.
NEED HELP ALL 3, Maria had written.
You could say that again.
Roald was worried about her and the girl, but at this moment in time he was mostly concerned about Jens Horder. Exactly how far gone was he? Was he capable of murder?
And what had he meant when he said: ‘We’ll need him later?’ Then again, it gave Roald a faint hope that he wasn’t about to be killed, at least not immediately. On the other hand, Need him?
Need him for what?
Roald thought about the people of Korsted. Had anyone known about his walk to the Head? No, he hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. Why on earth hadn’t he told someone, spoken to the police officer, left a note for the chef?
If he didn’t come back today, then what? When would people start to notice? At some point Short Fuse’s Lars would start to wonder why Roald hadn’t returned his dog. He would ring the pub later tonight. Perhaps even walk down there, if he could be bothered. He probably couldn’t, and his explosive wife undoubtedly had jobs that she wanted him to do. So Lars wouldn’t do anything until tomorrow, which was when he would bump into the chef, who would be back by then and who would also be wondering about Roald’s absence.
And at that point they would contact the police. Not until then. Not until tomorrow. And probably not until late in the day. To act quickly would be regarded as jumping the gun.
Roald focused on his breathing. Jens Horder would bloody well have to let him go. There had to be limits to his madness.
Nevertheless, the family was in desperate need of help. All three of them. Roald made up his mind to be as accommodating as possible. He would signal to them that he meant them no harm at all. That he was no threat.
That would probably fix it.
And that was when the penny dropped.
In the midst of all the junk and his terror and confusion over the boy, who was a girl, he hadn’t processed that Jens Horder had referred to her as Liv. Liv Horder. She was the daughter they had reported dead.
And now her father knew that he had been found out.
At that moment Jens Horder appeared in the doorway. Roald’s pulse rocketed again. Need him for what? And what would happen to him afterwards?
‘I’m going to untie you now,’ Horder said, squatting down by one of the bedposts.
The pain shot through Roald when the rope briefly tightened even more around his ankle, which was already hurting after the encounter with the silage harvester. Then the rope slackened and he felt the blood return to his foot. He moved it carefully to avoid cramping. Soon his other foot was free.
Before Horder started untying his hands he pulled out his knife and showed it to Roald. ‘Don’t try anything stupid,’ he said, placing the knife on the bed, well out of Roald’s reach.
Roald decided not to try anything stupid.
Horder’s voice was cold, but Roald could feel the heat radiating from him and see the beads of sweat on his forehead. His gaze also seemed cold and distant, and yet his eyes were swollen and red… as if he had just been crying.
The girl appeared in the doorway. Roald could see the top of her quiver of arrows behind one of her shoulders and the bow in her hand. Jens Horder looked behind and glanced at her before turning his attention back to Roald.
‘My daughter is a formidable archer. Make no mistake. I’ve ordered her to shoot you if you try anything. And believe me: she won’t miss.’
Roald believed him. All his limbs were finally free, but he stayed on his back where he was. He still couldn’t speak because of the gag. Should he try to remove it now that he could use his hands again?
Horder picked up the knife and positioned himself in front of Roald.
Roald pointed cautiously at his mouth and the scarf or whatever it was he had been made to bite on for so long. It tasted and smelled like a mixture of wool and cowshed. Horder looked as if he didn’t know whether or not to give him permission to remove it.
Roald faked a cough.
‘Please take it out, Dad,’ the girl pleaded anxiously over by the door, and Roald immediately coughed a little harder. Only this time he genuinely started to choke. His hands reached instinctively for the fabric, trying to pull it down. It was too tight for him to take it off. Tears welled up in his eyes.
Horder appeared to realize from the expression in Roald’s eyes that this was serious because he quickly grabbed the knot behind Roald’s head and untied it. Then he threw the scarf on to a pile next to the bed.
Roald coughed and gasped for air until he was able to breathe again with relative ease.