Page 105 of The New House

‘Whatabouthim? You could leave him here. No one knows this cellar exists. Or I could help you move his body. I’d be implicated, then, too. We’d be partners in crime. I couldn’t say anything even if I wanted to.’ I force a laugh. ‘You could sell me the Glass House after all and it could be our secret.’

She’s tempted. I can see it in her eyes.

‘It’s the perfect crime,’ I say. ‘You actually got the victim to collaborate in his own murder. It’s brilliant. Because you intended to kill him all along, didn’t you?’ I smile conspiratorially. ‘I think we both know he was never going to walk out of here. It’s why you told Peter, isn’t it? You wanted someone to appreciate the beauty of it all. Everyone wants their work respected.’

‘Felix wasn’t avictim,’ Stacey says, ‘whatever he told your husband. He was with me because he wanted to be. Heneededme. And defrauding Copper Beech washisidea. Except he didn’t think it through, as usual.Iwas the one who had to step in and sort out his mess.’

‘I’m not the enemy, Stacey,’ I say.

‘It’s too late,’ she says impatiently.‘I don’t have time for this.’

‘At least let Peter—’

‘Don’t be boring, Millie. You’ve always been so much better than that.’

‘I need a knife,’ I say, holding my voice steady. ‘You owe me that. Don’t leave me down here in the dark to die of thirst. I’m not Houdini,’ I add, shaking the handcuff against the pipe. ‘I can’t pick the lock or cut through metal this thick. But if you give me a knife, I can make sure the end is quick.’

She cocks her head to one side. ‘I don’t want you to waste time shouting for help,’ she says. ‘No one will hear you. I’m going to take your car and phone back to the woods near Alexander Manor. Tom won’t ever know exactly what happened to you, but he’ll assume you decided to take care of Peter and then yourself. We all know the path your son was on, so he won’t be that surprised. In fact,’ she adds, suddenly darting forward and holding a screen in front of my face, ‘let’s unlock your phone and have you text him yourself.’

She’s out of reach again before I have a chance to react. Her thumbs speed across the screen as she texts my final message to my husband.

She turns to go, and then abruptly stops, bends down, and skitters something across the floor towards me. ‘It’s a Stanley knife,’ she says. ‘It’s not particularly sharp, but it’ll be enough for what you need.’

She shuts the door to the root cellar behind her. I listen to her footsteps as she walks up the stairs. Even though I’m expecting it, a bolt of terror shivers through me when I hear the hall door overhead shut behind her. No one knows we’re down here. No one even knows this cellar exists. I could shout for a week and no one would ever hear me.

But Stacey has left the light on.

And she’s left me a knife.

chapter 63

millie

Stacey has left me with a stark choice: wait in vain for rescue, and die from dehydration within a few days – if I’m lucky.

Or I can use the knife.

The human body is about sixty percent water, and, under normal conditions, an average person loses about a litre of water each day by sweating and breathing, and another one to two litres by urinating. If it’s not replaced, cells throughout the body will shrink as water moves out of them and into the bloodstream, part of the body’s efforts to keep the organs perfused in fluid. All the cells will shrink, but the ones that count are the brain cells. As the brain becomes smaller, it takes up less room in the skull and blood vessels connecting it to the inside of the cranium can pull away and rupture.

But my kidneys will probably shut down first. Lack of water will cause my blood volume to decline and all my organs will start to fail. My mouth will dry out and become caked, my lips parched and cracked. My eyes will recede into their sockets. The lining of my nose will start to bleed. Mucus will thicken in my lungs, causing respiratory failure. My temperature will rise. I’ll have convulsions.

Death will be a relief.

I look at my left wrist, shackled to the pipe. I know exactly where to slice it open: given my expertanatomical knowledge, I can target the arteries precisely and the pain will be minimal. I will bleed out within fifteen minutes.

Tom isn’t going to save me. When my car and phone are discovered near Alexander Manor in a day or two from now, and the police start investigating, he’ll finally learn the truth about Gracie. He’ll wonder what else I’ve hidden from him. Perhaps he’ll believe I might have decided to ‘take care’ of Peter and then myself, as Stacey intends. Even if he doesn’t, even if he comes here, to the Glass House, he’ll never find me, not in time. I know every inch of this house and I had no idea this cellar was here.

I don’t know if Stacey was telling the truth, and my son is truly trapped inside the freezer, or if it’s another of her sick mind games. But if he is inside it, and if he’s still alive, it won’t be for long.

Stacey’s given me a simple binary choice between a long, protracted death or a savage, swift one. But I have a third option.

An unthinkable one.

It might not work. Even if it does, there’s no guarantee I’ll make it out of this cellar alive. I don’t think Stacey’s bolted the door to the root cellar door, but if she has, I won’t have a hope. And if by some miracle Idosurvive and get out of here, the life I knew will be gone forever. The person I am now will be gone. My life will be destroyed. I’ll survive, but I won’t beliving.

It’s not hyperbole to say I’d be better off dead.

But it’s not just my life at stake.

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