knew it was about me. My basement accommodation may have been luxurious, but it was not soundproof. Slowly, I crept around the apartment and fetched a chair. As I dragged it to the air vent, its legs scraped the wooden floor. I bent my knees as I stepped up on to it, trying to hold it still. It was risky, but it was the best place to hear what was going on above. I held my breath as I listened for key words. They thought I couldn’t hear them, but I knew what they were capable of. Air conditioning blasted from the ceiling, and I snuffled through my congestion. It was too dry, too cold, and goose bumps rose on my skin. The argument descended into soft murmurs. A decision had been made.
I waited for the whirr of the lift, but no movement came.
Groaning, I climbed down from the chair. Then I heard it: soft steps. Quiet voices as a lock was turned with a key. I grabbed my knife, scurrying over to the door that was always closed. They were out there, in the corridor. Sheridan was telling Mike not to wake me. My fingers tightened around the knife. I was shaking, my breath trembling on my lips as adrenalin coursed through my veins.
‘She’s in there,’ I heard Sheridan say; yet they walked past my door.
‘I remember when she went missing,’ Mike replied. ‘I can’t believe she was here all this time.’
What? My frown deepened as I pressed my ear against the door. Their voices trailed away. I thought Mike was here to kill me, but had I heard wrong? My back aching, I grabbed a blanket and took a seat on the nearest chair. I needed to be on my guard. I needed to be ready for anything.
CHAPTER FIFTY
ROZ
Footsteps echoed above my head. What now? My breathing was shallow as I strained to hear every sound. Straightening my aching body, I rose from the chair. I had been sitting there for what felt like hours, but now it was apparent that Sheridan and Mike had gone back upstairs. I flexed my puffy ankles. My limbs had finally stopped trembling from the flow of adrenalin in my veins. I ground my fist into my lower back. I had more pressing things on my mind than my pregnancy discomforts. Upstairs had turned eerily quiet. Where were Sheridan and Mike now? I grabbed the plaid blanket I had wrapped around myself and threw it back on the bed. The lift was being called. This was it.
My lower back sent another dart of pain through me as I waddled over to my wardrobe. It provided good cover, and I pressed my body against the side. A bead of sweat broke out on my forehead. It was now or never for me and my baby. The lift was coming, those dreaded mechanisms locking into place as it brought its occupant down.
I raised my hand above my head, ready to slice down with the knife. My heartbeat pounded like thunder in my ears. I could smell my own fear as perspiration laced my skin. Even if I stabbed my captor, I still had to make it upstairs and escape.
But the person who exited the lift was not Sheridan. It was Daniel, and I was flooded with relief. I watched him approach my bed, my gaze falling to his hand. He was holding something . . . a Hershey’s bar. That was when I knew I could not stab him in the back. Such actions were only seen in movies. I was not strong enough. Confusion streaked his face as he pulled back the covers to see a pillow underneath. For a second, his expression changed to one of panic, and he strained to see in the dim light.
‘Roz?’ he said, trying to switch on my bedside light. But Sheridan had had the bulb removed. I stepped out of the shadows and he inhaled a sharp breath as the knife glinted in my hand.
‘Roz?’ he repeated as he slowly approached. ‘What are you doing?’
His hands were held up in surrender; he looked tired but worried. I took in his tousled hair, his sweatshirt and jeans. He must have travelled through the night. But where were Sheridan and Mike?
‘Stay where you are,’ I said, holding up the blade.
Raising his palms in a gesture of assurance, Daniel forced a smile, but he could not hide the concern behind his eyes. ‘Come on, no need for that. I