Page 106 of Between the Lies

The figures neared, and a shout arose through the darkness in a language Robert couldn’t comprehend. Not wanting to be assaulted, he held his hands up in the universal language of surrender.

‘Take me; let her go.’

Hands gripped Robert’s arms, and he felt handcuffs being slipped on him. It felt strange to be the person being cuffed instead of the one doing the arresting – although the person who’d restrained him didn’t chant the infamous words at him. Robert had no rights as far as these thugs were concerned.

When someone kicked the back of his right knee, Robert kneeled on the ground – again a sign of complete surrender. All they needed was a bloody firing squad.

Another snap of Dickheadson’s fingers and the thugs placed a hood over Robert’s head. Then they forced him up and shoved him over the uneven road into what he assumed was a waiting van.

‘Nina?’ Robert shouted and earned a smack for his troubles. The door closed, and the next second, a female grunt sounded from his right. Nina was with him.

The car’s engine roared to life, and they jerked forward. The thugs had restrained him but hadn’t actually tethered him to the van. As they rushed along Glaswegian roads, bouncing over speed bumps and potholes, Robert rolled towards where he’d heard Nina. ‘Darling?’ he whispered.

Another smack to his head. Despite the darkness of the hood, his vision – what he assumed was his vision – swam. Again, a feminine grunt sounded.

Why couldn’t she speak? Robert’s chest restricted with fear. Had they gagged her? Hurt her? No, this wasn’t the time to imagine; he needed to regroup and replan.

First off, he needed to know where they were heading. With no visual, he needed his wits. Right, what did he know? So far he’d clocked two right turns, then a straight road before another left turn. They’d stopped at a signal then travelled uphill.

The M8. Could they be hitting the motorway? If they did, Robert would lose the home advantage.

He loosed a breath then dropped his forehead to the floor of the van. They were moving again, this time turning left. Then a straight road, a right, another right…

Hold on, he knew this route.

He heard the wail of a siren then another siren – an ambulance – before they were going downhill again. Now he could hear traffic, people, music, screams… then those noises faded and?—

George Square – they’d just passed the square and the Christmas Market. That had to be why he could hear screams and music. So they’d driven away from the area and doubled back. Smart. If they made him think they’d moved locations, he would’ve been disoriented.

When the van glided to a stop, hands grabbed him then squeezed him out as if he were a fucking mop, and he stumbled over what he believed were the same potholes as before. They were back on Walls Street.

It made sense. Anne loved drama. That much she hadn’t faked. This brought them full circle.

They pulled him indoors, uncaring if he banged into something. Then someone shoved. Not expecting it, Robert stumbled, his feet tangled, and he crashed to his knees – again. ‘Fuck!’

‘Tsk! Tsk! Tsk! Honey, curse words are so unbecoming of you.’

The hood was lifted off his head – he blinked to adjust his eyes and saw her. Dressed in a fucking siren-red cocktail dress, Anne’s attire would better suit a formal party instead of this burned-down scrapheap.

Robert waited for his heart to twist with the pain of seeing her, but instead it yearned… to bring her down.

Where there had been love, there was only a question: what the hell had he seen in this woman all those years ago?

Those baby blue eyes he’d stared at thinking he could trust them now reminded him of her crocodile tears. How had he never seen the coldness that lurked in them? And that lithe, tall body… She’d used it to lie to him.

Now, as he kneeled in front of her, he asked her a question. ‘Why me?’

Anne’s heels clicked on the wooden floor as she sauntered towards him. She reached out to slide a red nail down his cheek. ‘Stubble always gave you a sexy, edgy look. Far better than the “good lad” clean-shaven one.’

Robert waited, knowing she’d take her time. She wanted to play? He’d let her.

She circled him, her hand roaming his shoulders, his hair… Then she cupped his face. ‘Who would look twice at the revered PC Muller’s wife? You’re a cop but behave like a social worker. Meticulous but sloppy in love. The man with no family. You were the perfect hunk to hide behind.’

Leaning down so her face appeared right in front of his, Anne batted her lashes. ‘And you played the part so well. A goody husband, although a little lacking in the bedroom department.’ She made a face. ‘A grieving widower. I knew you’d seek out that bitch to avenge me. You take your vows seriously – or so I thought.’

Straightening, Anne nodded to someone behind Robert, and muted grunts filled the room. The broad-chested man reappeared and deposited Nina on the floor. They’d bound and gagged her, and, to top it off, blindfolded her. Fucking bastards!

‘Let her go!’

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