Free taster of my psychological thriller 'The Witness'.
Chapter One
It
was six thirty in the morning and Josie, sat on a folding stool beside a
riverbank was painting. Her eyes hardly
had time to focus as she glanced from landscape to paper, her brush dancing
merrily as it conveyed colour and form to her work.
It never ceased to
amaze her just how quickly time went once she became fully engrossed in her
work, she had been sitting there for just over an hour but it seemed no time at
all. She liked to paint in the early
morning when the light was clear and the day was fresh and new.
Standing up she
stretched out the stiffness in her shoulders then scrutinised her work
carefully. Tilting her head to one side,
she squinted through half closed eyes and chewed at the end of her paintbrush. It was a moment before she would admit that
her work was done, and with a sigh of satisfaction, she smiled. Josie studied the iron bridge in the
foreground of her picture, it was a true representation of the real thing, the
bridge that spanned the river Spey. She
had replicated the colours of the water perfectly. Sunlight dancing on the surface played
mischievously with the multi-coloured stones until they shone like
semi-precious jewels in the shallows, and where the water ran deep, delicate
shades and movement made the river appear pleasingly realistic.
Josie was
delighted with the results and she sighed contentedly. Her week had been a great success, not only
was her sketchbook full but she had also completed three paintings. In the morning, she would be heading back to
London but first she was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with
Molly. Josie smiled again delighted at
the prospect of shopping with her aunt. Later they would drive into Elgin, she
wanted to photograph the cathedral ruins. Josie was planning a series of dramatic
paintings based on the fire that had destroyed the beautiful cathedral
generations ago.
Molly had left
London the moment she retired, moving hundreds of miles north she went in
search of a quieter life and found it in the small village of Garmouth. Situated close to the ancient city of Elgin
in Morayshire, Molly loved this part of the world and wondered why she had not
discovered it years earlier.
Josie had spent
many summer holidays as a child in and around Elgin but she could not remember
having come across the village before.
She felt certain that Molly had not either. Josie often thought that her aunt had simply
driven a pin at random into a map and moved to wherever it pointed. Whatever her motives, Molly had decided to
uproot and move north. No once did she
discuss her plans to retire to Scotland, but Josie was glad that she had. There was so much to see and she wanted to
paint everything, she was also happy in the knowledge that her landscapes were
very well received back in London. Josie
felt certain that one day she would move from the city and settle in the
village herself.
Before discovering
Garmouth, she had been blissfully happy living in suburbia. Content with her city lifestyle, she loved
the idea of being able to shop for groceries at any time, day or night and
culturally she was spoilt, there was a variety of museums, galleries and
theatres not far from where she lived.
Having access to anything she wanted regardless of the time, was
something that she treasured but coming to Garmouth for the first time had been
a shock, everything here was done at a much slower pace. The village was set firmly in the past, the
people who lived there were content to spend their time chatting over garden
fences or meeting up at the post office or corner shop. There was no urgency and best of all there
was no noise, it was very different from what she was used to and she just
loved it.
Josie poured water
from her bottle into a little pot and washed out her brushes before packing
them away. Suddenly a scream shattered
the silence and startled, she looked up.
Scanning the riverbank she looked towards the iron bridge but could see
nothing out of place, the sound must have come from a rabbit falling victim to
a fox or an osprey. She stared up at the
sky searching for the birds that operated along this stretch of the river. Usually they would be fishing for salmon, but
would probably consider a rabbit a welcome change from their habitual diet.
Shaking her head,
she smiled and cleared her mind of such thoughts. Stuffing her brushes into her
bag, she reached for her paint box and mixing palette then dried them off with
an old cloth.
Without warning,
another scream echoed along the valley and this time there was no mistaking the
sound, her skin crawled as she sensed danger.
Josie looked up,
there was movement near the bridge then she spotted a man dragging a woman
along the ground roughly by her hair.
Her cries carried clearly on the still morning air, and Josie watched in
horror as the man slammed his fist into the woman’s face knocking her down into
the long grass. Standing over the spot
where she had fallen he reached down and grabbed her, the sound of the woman
crying as he hauled her to her feet spurred Josie into action. Moving quickly along the path she was
determined to help. Perhaps she could
distract him for long enough to allow the woman to escape but suddenly she felt
vulnerable and very much alone. The
nearest house was over a mile away and there was no one else in sight.
The man continued
his assault and hearing the woman’s terrified screams Josie realised that it
would be a bad idea to draw attention to herself. Frozen to the spot she was filled with guilt
and indecision and all she could do was look on helplessly. The man stepped back and forced the woman to
her knees then very slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out a
pistol. Thrusting the weapon into the
woman’s face, they stared silently at each other. Although defeated she remained defiant, it
was the last thing she did. The force of
the discharge threw her back into the grass like a broken toy.
Covering her mouth
with her hands Josie stifled a scream and staggered backwards. Her vision blurred as her eyes filled with
tears and she wanted to vomit. She could
hardly believe what she had just seen, it had to be true because the sound of
the blast was still rolling like thunder around the bay.
The man moved
calmly pocketing his pistol and glancing around searching for witnesses. Removing his cap, he dried his forehead with
his sleeve and turning very slowly towards Josie, he grinned. She froze; it was as if he had known she was
there all along. The evil that
surrounded him seemed to reach out towards her and she shuddered. His grin turned into a sneer as he held her
gaze then slowly he began to move towards the bridge. He didn’t need to rush, his strides measured
it was as if he had all the time in the world.
Josie brushed away
her tears with the back of her hand, her mind was in turmoil but she knew that
she had to move quickly. Glancing
towards the bridge, she wondered if she could get to in time. It was the only way to cross the river and
the man had made his intentions clear enough but it was no good, he had almost
reached the bridge.
Retracing her
steps back along the path, there was no time to collect her things; she would
have to abandon her painting in an effort to save herself. Emotions run wildly inside her head but
despite this, she refused to succumb to panic.
Running as quickly as she dared, she missed her footing on a clump of
grass and fell heavily. Crying out in
frustration and gasping for breath, she glancing back over her shoulder, he was
closing in fast. Picking herself up she
pushed on and managed to increase the distance between them and reaching the
point where the path split she hesitated.
To the right it followed the curve of the bay going towards a distant
golf course. Turning her head the other
way she could see the visitors centre standing beside an ancient icehouse. This
had once been used to preserve salmon but it was now a museum. The place looked deserted, there were no
visitors this early in the day and the staff who worked there would not arrive
for at least another hour.
Heading that way
Josie charged breathlessly into the yard and slipped on the loose gravel. Picking herself up, she pressed her back up
against the wall of the nearest building and in an attempt to control her
racing heart took some deep breaths.
Pulling her mobile phone from her pocket, she flipped it open and with
trembling fingers began to press out a number, holding it to her ear she
waited, nothing happened. Glancing
desperately at the tiny screen it was a few seconds before she realised that
there was no signal. Groaning with
frustration pushed it back into her pocket.
It was futile calling for the police, it would take ages for them to get
to Spey Bay from Elgin.
He was very close
now and she could hear him coming, so moving further around the building, she
searched for a place to hide. The walls
were curved, the bricks worn smooth by erosion and time, there were no recesses
in which she could conceal herself and it soon became obvious that he would
easily find her. There was nowhere else
to run and as the man charged into the yard, he slipped on the gravel and fell
heavily. The noise that he made sent a
sea bird screeching overhead and Josie, looking up, heard the sound of waves
breaking over the stony shore. Moving
towards the pebble beach, she stumbled noisily over the loose gravel, and
making her way awkwardly down the slope found the coastal path. She started to run along it as fast as she
could.
Sunlight flashed
lemon yellow against the grey swell of the sea and as she went she managed to
pull away from him, but she did not realise until it was too late that she was
running into a trap. The path ended
abruptly as it dropped down to meet the mouth of the river and stopping at the
top of the steep bank, she could see it curving back the way she had come. Josie glanced around desperately searching
for another way to go, she could see him moving slowly towards her, he seemed
to be in no hurry and was obviously aware of her error.
She considered
making her way back along the path but that would not work, as soon as he saw
her moving in that direction he would head her off and there would be little
chance of slipping past him. Turning her
back to the water, she considered running straight at him, push past and maybe
even knock him down but he looked much heavier and stronger than her so
dismissing that idea she had to find another way.
She realised that
he was not carrying his gun, if he meant to kill her that would surely be the
most effective way. She had already seen
him commit murder so he must be capable of doing it again. This time there would be no witness, no one
to see where her body fell. The thought
sent a shiver through her, forcing these unwelcome thoughts aside, she glanced
towards the opposite bank willing someone to be near, a jogger maybe or
somebody out walking their dog, anyone who might be able to help.
She could feel his
eyes boring into her back and turning towards him was unable to see clearly,
the sun was still low in the sky and he appeared like a shadow. The sight of him lumbering down the slope
made her skin crawl and she cried out as the cold hand of fear ran its fingers
along her spine.
Taking a few steps
backwards, she stepped into the shallows and water seeped into her boots, it
was cold against her skin but she hardly felt it. Glancing desperately at the opposite bank
there was no one there to help and now she had nowhere left to run. An idea began to form in her mind, perhaps
she could reason with him but then realisation took hold, he was not going to
let her live, she had seen too much.
He was so close
now that she could hear his ragged breathing and looking up he appeared black
with evil intent. There was nothing left
for her to do so plunging into the water she struck out for the opposite bank,
it was not too far and she was a strong swimmer. Adrenaline coursed through her body as she
propelled herself into midstream but the cold grey water was merciless, it
pulled her down until she began to struggle.
The current was too strong, she had underestimated its strength and as
it took hold, it swept her away.
Gasping for
breath, the cold was shocking and as her chest tightened Josie did what she
could to keep her head above the surface but to fight it was impossible. Her muscles were burning now and struggling
to stay afloat was becoming painful, wave after wave poured over her head, and
it became a relentless battle that was proving impossible to win. She was amazed at how quickly she had been
defeated.
The man watching
from the safety of the bank was keeping pace with the flow of the river. He was hardly surprised by her plunging into
the water in fact he expected it, she had nowhere else to go and he didn’t
think she would give up easily.
Josie could feel
her strength ebbing away, her limbs going numb with the cold it was all she
could do to keep her face above the surface.
The weight of her waterlogged clothing dragged her down and struggling
only made it worse. Waves constantly
washed over her head, the water so cold it was as if a thousand tiny needles
were pricking at her skin. Here the
water was tinged with salt, it was almost the point where the river met the
sea. Gradually the waves were becoming
larger and in the grip of the swell, she could feel the pull of the tide, it
was attracting her body as effectively as a magnet draws iron. Josie began to panic, the North Sea was no place
to be and struggling for breath was powerless against the flow. She would have to wait for the current to
ease before attempting to swim back towards the shore, she realised that she
would be swept further from the beach and the thought terrified her. She had to keep calm, and most of all she
must remain conscious. She needed to
keep moving, try to generate some heat into her muscles that was the only way
to keep them from seizing up altogether.
The
man standing on the shore watched as Josie was swept further away. He made no attempt to help or to alert the
Coastguard and now she had almost disappeared from view. Licking his lips, his tongue flashed
reptilian like from between his teeth and his mouth became a cruel thin line
across his face.
He felt a stab of
regret, distracted by a jumping dolphin, he took his eyes off her for a moment
and now she was gone, lost from view in the vastness of the sea. He would never see her again and as the smile
faded from his face, his eyes narrowed.
He began to imagine the fun he could have had with her then his thoughts
turned to the woman he’d left lying in the grass. He would have to be quick, tidy up the mess
before others wandered along the path.
His pulse
quickened, oh what fun he’d had with this one, she was the best so far, now it
was like a drug and he craved for more.
The voices in his head would soon return and their demands would become
even more shocking, he would know no peace until he had done their bidding, but
for now he was safe, their hunger satisfied.
Josie
was slipping away, unconsciousness beckoned offering her a merciful
release. This was nature’s way of
relieving pain and suffering, but she must resist the urge, to give up now
would be the end of everything.
She managed to
improvise a life jacket by trapping air under her shirt, it helped by keeping
her head above the waves. This was a
skill learned many years ago as a child at the local swimming pool, she had
never imagined that one day she would have to employ the techniques for
real.
Next, she
attempted to remove her jeans but it was impossible, they were heavy and
weighed her down, each time she moved she went under and choked. They would make a more effective float but it
was not as easy as she remembered, practicing this in a heated swimming pool
with help at hand was one thing, doing it for real was quite another. Frustrated and rapidly becoming exhausted she
abandoned the idea and made do with her shirt.
The chill from the
water continued to press in around her and her body, acting like a sponge,
soaked up the cold until gradually her muscles began to shut down. She had very little feeling from her waist
down and now her arms were beginning to feel heavy and tired. Her skin felt as if it was on fire even
though she was freezing to death.
Josie was
terrified; the thought of drowning filled her with dread. The current was gaining in strength and with
her strength failing she would soon no longer be able to swim back to the
beach.
At least now she
was moderately buoyant, if she could just relax and go with the rhythm of the
swell, precious air trapped beneath her shirt would not seep away so
quickly. Often she had to refill it by
lifting the hem above the water and scoop in more air, inflating it like a
balloon. The effort of this process
gave her something to focus on and moving her arms kept the blood flowing into
her frozen fingers. This simple but
vital act gave her hope, without it she would almost certainly drown.
The grey water was
sapping her strength and she knew that she would have to do something quickly
to help maintain her body temperature.
The initial burning sensation of cramp from rapidly cooling muscles had
now given way to a dull ache and the situation was becoming hopeless. She had tried to swim but the movement
deflated her buoyancy aid and she no longer had the strength to stay afloat
without it. Her eyes ached from the cold
as waves slapped relentlessly against her face and it was as if a band of steel
had been wound about her head, the pressure mounting by the second.
Gritting her teeth
she moved her arms slowly, raising each in turn above her head but the effort
was too much and she cried out in frustration, the pain was becoming too much
to bear. Air escaped from beneath her
shirt as she moved then she had to go through the inflating process all over
again. It was a relentless battle but
she had to ignore her nagging doubts, she was determined not to give up.
How long had she
been in the water? The thought came from
out of nowhere, it confused her and paying it no attention she focussed on more
pleasant things. Going to her favourite
place, she could feel the sun on her back.
It was a delicious sensation, the warmth invading her mind soothed her
body and she imagined herself dancing in a soft breeze. She could feel grass as soft as fur brushing
gently against her bare legs and closing her eyes, the smell of freshly ground
coffee invaded her thoughts, she could even hear the sound of breakfast
sizzling in a pan.
How long had she been
in the water? Faces appeared before her
eyes, friends from long ago, colleagues from places she had worked and people
with whom she socialised.
How long had she
been in the water? Absurd thoughts burst
into her head but were gone before she had a chance to grasp them. Was this what it was like to die, her life
flashing before her eyes?
How long had she
been in the water? Reluctantly she
forced herself to open her eyes. She was
crying with frustration, warm tears washed away by cold water, this was just
another unwelcome emotion. Suddenly she
was angry with herself, angry with the man who had put her in this situation
but there was no time for self-pity, not now.
How long had she
been in the water? There it was again
that infuriating voice filling her head, always the same question over and over
again. Like a tattoo drumming
laboriously into her skull, she had no choice but to deal with it. With an effort she focussed on her
wristwatch, she could hardly see the time the face was too small. It was then she decided to buy another watch,
one with a larger face, she was always having to squint at this one. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it and
concentrating on the task, recalled the last time she had checked her
watch. It had been six thirty, just
after she had finished her painting and now the time was six fifty five. Going over the events in her mind, she
realised that everything had taken place during the last twenty five minutes. She estimated how long it had taken to run
along the riverbank and evade capture by diving into the river. This must have taken fifteen minutes; that
left ten. She was shocked, only ten
minutes, it seemed as though she had been in the water for much longer. How long could someone survive in the North Sea
at this time of the year? She started to
think about seasonal water temperatures around the British Isles. She considered body mass and insulating
layers of fat and for once in her life regretted being so slim, there was not
an ounce of fat on her. She was in grave
danger; there was insufficient insulation to protect her from the extreme cold.
