Page 11 of Poisoned Pawn

Toni’s mum and dad separated a little over a year ago, and she’s struggled to come to terms with it. It doesn’t help that he’s moved his new girlfriend in already. According to Toni, Lillian is the daughter of some famous magnate in America and has a son a little older than she is, but she hasn’t met him yet as he’s still living in the states. Today’s dinner will be her first official meeting with Lillian, and I know she’s not been looking forward to it.

I toss my phone down and take my cup to the kitchen to get a refill before making a start on the housework.

It’s lunch time when I finish, so I grab a sandwich and a cold drink then plonk myself down on the sofa in front of the TV. This is where I plan to stay for the rest of the day. I should really go food shopping, but I can’t be bothered and decide to get a takeaway tonight. I’ll do a shop after work tomorrow.

I take a bite of my sandwich as I scroll through the channels looking for something to watch when my phone pings with a message.

It’s Rick checking up on me. I send a quick reply letting him know that I’m fine. His response is quick and to the point.

I’m glad to hear it. And a heads up, Aidan knows.

“Shit!” Another message comes through before I can respond.

Call him, Star.

I can’t even pretend I’m surprised Aidan knows about the shooting. And while I appreciate Rick’s heads up and advice to call Aidan, it won’t matter. Aidan hasn’t called me and neither has Roxy which means only one thing, one or both of them are going to be banging my door down anytime. It’s inevitable.

Knowing that calling them won’t stop them from coming, I get comfy on the sofa and watch the TV. At some point I must have fallen asleep and wake with a start.

The sun has set casting the room in darkness but for the intermittent light pouring from the telly. I push myself into a sitting position and find the remote. Muting the sound, I listen for whatever woke me, but the house is silent.

I drop the remote on the coffee table as I get to my feet and slowly make my way to the kitchen. As I near the doorway, a shiver runs down my back, and I stop. I take a step forward, keeping close to the wall and take in the far end of the room. With no light in here at all, it takes me a moment to see there is nothing out of place. Twisting to see the opposite end, where the back door leads to the garden, I breathe a sigh and roll my eyes when I see everything looks as it should.

Stepping further into the room, I’m berating myself for being ridiculous when a flash of movement catches my eye at the window. I pulled the blinds in here earlier due to the sun making it more like a sauna, but I’m in no doubt about the shadowy figure who is now stalking past my window toward the back door.

I pat the back pocket of my jeans for my phone, checking the other when I find it empty. Then I remember it’s on the sofa.

Fuck!

Without a second thought, I dash for the stairs as they are closer than the lounge. I race up the stairs on my tiptoes. Each step is a thud like my heart inside my chest.

I stumble on the top step as my phone beeps loudly from the lounge telling me they are inside the house, but it cuts off as quick as it started. Fear slithers like a serpent inside me as it becomes clear they know my alarm code. I dare to look back to the bottom of the stairs as I round the knoll post and see their shadow as they enter the hall.

Knowing my room will be the obvious choice, I quickly close the door then drop back and slip inside the guest room, leaving that door slightly open.

I snatch up the landline phone and am greeted by silence as I put it to my ear.

“Son of a bitch!” I whisper.

Replacing the phone, I reach under the bedside table, stretching and slapping my hand around blindly as I search for the knife I taped there. Relief washes through me as I finally make contact with the handle and yank it free violently.

I grip the handle, knuckles turning white, as I step behind the door and hold my breath, praying that they go straight for my room. I know staying in this room is suicide and I’ll have to move at some point, but it’s my only choice right now.

I can’t hear a thing. Whoever this is, they’re like a fucking ghost. I press my back to the wall, wishing I could become one with it, blend in like a damn chameleon. Every second that passes feels like a million. I start to think that maybe I’m dreaming, but then I hear it. The faintest sound of movement in my room; the sliding of the wardrobe doors and rattle of coat hangers. Knowing there aren’t many other places I could hide in my bedroom and assuming they haven’t already checked the en suite, I know this is my only window of opportunity to get downstairs and out the house.

Cautiously stepping away from the wall, I sidestep to the open crack. With the hand holding the knife raised in front of me ready to strike, I use the other hand to slowly open the door a fraction, pausing to listen before slipping out enough to look down the hall. My bedroom door is half open, but there’s no sign of whoever is in there.

My breath heaves in and out of me, my heart thumping loudly, as I fully step out of the room, keeping my eyes on the bedroom. With a quick glance over my shoulder to the stairs then back to the room, I run.

I know the instant they hear me. I know the second they fire their weapon despite not hearing a sound.

Plaster rains down on me as the bullet hits the wall just as I take the first stair. I practically jump down the rest, almost becoming a mangled heap as I my ankle twists and buckles. Rational thought falls to the wayside as I reach the bottom, and my plan to go out the front door is forgotten as I hear footsteps thumping above.

I round the bottom knoll post as the hall mirror shatters, and I spin around, jogging backwards, to see shards of glass skittering across the hard wood floor.

My back hits something hard, and I realise it’s the kitchen door frame. Sidestepping, I keep moving backward into the kitchen, knowing the back door is just a few feet away, which I know is open as a cold draught blows over the back of my neck.

I step back behind the corner as an eerie silence descends over the house. Trailing my free hand over the wall as I keep walking backward, feeling every bump and blemish in the old plaster. Goosebumps prickle over my skin as the hair on the back of my neck rises. My breath catches in my throat and…

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