Chapter Sixty-Three
Joanna
We haul the man into a chair, and Neville ties him up. I stand back, still in shock.
Who is he? Why is he after us?
Neville’s injured. I should help him… but can I trust him?
Before I decide, he’s back with his arm strapped in a makeshift sling.
‘I should fix your shoulder,’ I say, remembering the first aid kit I stashed in the bathroom.
I clean his wound, but something about him unsettles me. Not just the chaos we’ve been thrown into, but him.
‘It’s deep. You’ll need stitches.’
‘Do what you can,’ he says, eyes flicking to the man wriggling in the chair.
Suddenly, the man lunges, straining against the ties. Neville raises the hammer. I watch in horror as the man gasps, then slumps forward.
‘I think he’s had a heart attack,’ I say. Neville suggests he might be faking. I kneel beside him and check his pupils, then his pulse.
‘He’s dead. It was a heart attack.’
‘Jesus,’ Nev mutters.
I fix him with a look.
‘Isn’t it time you told me what’s going on? You said I’d be going home, and now this man shows up to kill us. And when you heard him arrive, you said, ‘He’s here,’ like you knew who it was. So, who were you expecting?’
He avoids my question and asks for a clean shirt. I fetch one of Daniel’s.
Then he suggests locking up.
‘I’ll do it,’ I say.
He’s injured. I have the upper hand now.
I lock the front door, head through the kitchen into the garage. My eyes land on a crowbar. I pick it up.
When I return, Neville’s eyes widen.
Does he think I’m stupid? For all I know, they were working together. Maybe the man wanted me dead because I’d seen Neville’s face. Perhaps he wanted the ransom for himself.
Either way, I’m not taking any chances.