Page 78 of Joker in the Pack

Hairspray! Maddie had left her can of super-hold here after she and Dave dropped me off the other day. I snatched it off the dressing table under the window and clutched it to my chest.

“I have hairspray.”

“Well done, babe. The patrol’s five minutes out. You just need to hold on until then.”

Five minutes. Just one song. A cup of filter coffee. Sex with Edward. It didn’t seem like long on a normal day, but when I was a sitting duck with a madman after me, every second stretched into infinity.

Footfalls sounded on the stairs, soft and steady, and I heard a muffled expletive as the intruder hit the noisy ninth step and the creak echoed through the house.

“He’s upstairs!” I whispered to Nye.

“Just breathe, babe. My guys are on their way, I promise.”

Steps tracked across the landing, and slowly, so slowly, the handle on the bedroom door began to turn. The visitor had come straight to my room, no hesitation. He’d been in the house before, and he knew exactly where he was going tonight.

“Nye, he’s here.”

A dark gap opened up around the edge of the door, and a black-gloved hand reached inside. The crack was wide enough for Twiglet to dash through when I screamed, but the solid wood jammed against the bed before a human could fit through. The man didn’t bother to muffle his swearing this time.

“Open up, bitch.”

I couldn’t even open my mouth to reply, let alone the door.

Then I heard the most glorious sounds in the world—the roar of an engine followed by the crunch of gravel as the patrol car sped down the drive outside.

“You’re going to regret this,” the man outside my door shouted, then ran down the stairs. The back door bounced hard against the frame as he left in a hurry.

Car doors slammed outside, and the yelling that followed grew quieter as the chase went through my garden and into the woods beyond. I finally managed to heed Nye’s instruction to take in air, huge gulping breaths that turned into helpless tears.

“I think he’s gone,” I told Nye, speaking between sobs.

“I’m on my way, babe. I’m in the car, and I’ll be there as soon as I can. You don’t open the door for anyone but me.”

“Okay.”

The phone slid from my grasp and hit the floor, and Twiglet slunk back in and licked my face with his sandpaper-like tongue. I petted him, needing something to do with my hands other than biting my nails.

It seemed like forever before Nye arrived, and I didn’t move from my position wedged against the wall until I heard his voice outside the door.

“Liv, it’s Nye. Can you open up?”

I struggled to my feet, but the bed wouldn’t move no matter what I did. How on earth did I manage to shift it earlier?

“I-I-I can’t move the bed.”

“Not even a little?”

I tried again. Nothing. My adrenaline had subsided, leaving me drained. “It just won’t.”

Visions of starving to death in Aunt Ellie’s bedroom flashed through my mind, with nothing but a crackly television for company. Perhaps Nye could send Twiglet in with food, or better still, brandy, like one of those St. Bernard dogs in the Alps.

“Can you open the window?” Nye asked.

“Now?”

“Yes, now.”

Thankfully, nobody had painted over the catch, and a minute after I pushed the window wide, Nye climbed into my bedroom. At the sight of him, my trembles became uncontrollable shudders, and then the tears started again, much to my embarrassment.

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