Sisters - Michelle Frances Page 0,75

nothing. It confused her. What was he thinking? What was he doing? She didn’t dare look round. The car engine continued to hum as they climbed the winding narrow road, some miles now from the petrol station, their last point of safety.

Abby was suddenly overpowered by a crushing sense of self-reproach. Why hadn’t she locked the car? Why hadn’t she checked in the shadows of the back footwell amongst all their bags?

‘Right,’ barked the man and Abby jolted. She looked frantically for the turning, seeing nothing. Then a tiny gap in the trees came up. It wasn’t a road, more a track, narrow and steep and overhung with trees. She didn’t want to go up there, was resisting it with every fibre of her being.

But there was nowhere else to go. If she drove past it, he would respond with violence.

Abby slowed the car and turned into the track.

FIFTY-THREE

All Ellie could think about was the tiny amount of distance between the skin on her neck and the arteries that pulsated underneath.

He’d barely have to exert any pressure; just a nudge and the knife would slice through, disseminating her blood. There would be no mistake. She’d be dead in minutes.

Suddenly the image of being drenched in her own blood was replaced by another. What if it was her windpipe that was opened up to the elements? What if she was gasping for air, a ragged hole in her neck letting the oxygen escape before it could make its way to her lungs? For some reason this frightened her more and she felt her mind beginning to spasm. She was unable to breathe properly, could feel panic begin to overwhelm her.

Stop, she thought. You have to stop. Don’t panic, don’t freak out, don’t move. For Ellie was certain he’d kill her for sure if she began to struggle. He was strong – she knew this by the way he was holding her, never letting up on the pressure across her shoulders ever since he’d grabbed her. She suddenly thought of her mother, of her receiving the news that her daughter had had her throat slit by a random kidnapper, an opportunist who’d seen a pile of euros and would have them, with very little regard to the value of human life. She almost laughed: it wasn’t the danger Susanna had been warning her of. Unless . . .

What if Abby had dropped the money deliberately? What if it was a set-up? If Abby had arranged all this in order to get her, Ellie, killed?

You’re mad, thought Ellie, squeezing her eyes tight in desperation. You’ve lost it; you’re traumatized, deranged by fear.

Who is Jamie? her subconscious demanded, puncturing her attempts at rationalizing her thoughts.

Stop! No, stop, thought Ellie. She couldn’t take any more. She had to stop trying to make sense of this nightmare, to unpick her confusion. She had to stop thinking.

FIFTY-FOUR

They’d left Elba quickly – within thirty minutes of Baroni’s call to her superiors. They had needed to refuel on the way but it was still only a few hours before the helicopter was passing over some woods just south of San Sebastián, northern Spain. They circled over a golf course where they had permission to land. Matteo looked down, could see the Spanish police car waiting for their touchdown so he, Baroni and Santini could be driven to the hotel in Hernani. As the pilot landed, Matteo exited the chopper and ran over to the vehicle. He ignored Baroni’s glare as he took the front seat, leaving her to ride in the back with Santini.

Within twenty minutes they were at the hotel. Baroni took charge at the desk but no one had checked in under Abby or Ellie’s names. Neither did the receptionist recognize their faces from the photographs.

Matteo didn’t like it one bit. He knew his wife and sister-in-law should have made it by now. Even by going the longest route possible they’d had time to drive the distance.

So where the hell were they?

FIFTY-FIVE

The car rocked as it hit roots and potholes and Abby winced every time, visualizing the flick-knife blade slipping as it pressed on Ellie’s throat. They drove slowly along the track for about ten minutes until Abby could see nothing but trees ahead of her. They had come to a dead end.

‘OK, stop now,’ said the man. Abby put the handbrake on. The car’s engine hummed.

‘Turn it off,’ he instructed.

She did. In turning the key, the headlights dimmed and Abby felt the trees close in on