Part 27 (1/2)

”Me either. I met a few professors, that's it.”

”Antisocial, were we?”

”Very funny.”

”Yeah, I guess you were a little distracted,” Bob said.

”Yeah, very funny, ha, ha. Anything else?”

”No. That's it. Just wondering if the name rang a bell.”

”No bells, Bob. Sorry.”

CHAPTER 43.

A black Ford pick-up truck sped along the Sea to Sky Highway, the tyres spitting filth onto pavements cleaned by recent rains. The man behind the wheel was hurried but sober, his driving almost reckless, his eyes glued to the road.

The Hunter had borrowed his brother's truck. It was faster than the one Roy always left for him at the cabin.

He had to get into the city fast.

He had a mission.

CHAPTER 44.

”I can see how it could be an awkward position,” Makedde said sympathetically. She sipped a cup of peppermint tea. ”I really appreciate you telling me what you can.” She shook her head.

Ann pursed her lips together and clasped her hands. ”I'm sorry that I can't be more forthcoming about Daniel's condition. I have to consider the confidentiality of my patients, and if you know nothing about him, then that's that.”

”Oh, I wouldn't expect you to compromise yourself professionally,” Mak said.

”The brothers are an odd pair, though.” Ann said, shaking her head. ”They are actually tw-”

Thump.

Makedde and Dr Morgan looked up in unison, snapped alert by the noise directly behind them.

”Did you hear that?”

Thump-thump.

There it was again.

The sound was coming from outside the door. There was no mistaking it; someone was moving on the front porch.

The doorbell rang and Ann got to her feet. ”Oh,” she said with surprise and stood quiet for a moment.

Makedde slowly got up and watched the doctor move towards the front door. It seemed to take forever. It was only Ann answering her own doorbell, but Makedde's stomach twisted into a tight knot at the sight of it.

Something is wrong.

”Are you expecting anyone?” she called out, but Ann was at the door now. Makedde wanted to yell something to her-wanted to tell her to watch out, to get away from the door but Ann was already looking through the peephole, and then she turned, puzzled, ”I don't see anyone...”

The next sound was the thunderous crash of breaking gla.s.s. The racket was not coming from the front door, however-it was coming from behind Makedde. She spun around and faced the kitchen doorway.

Someone was there. They had rung the door and snuck around the back.

Makedde's hands were empty-no protection-no weapon. Get the gun, she thought. No, it's in the car outside...Get the purse...Use the pepper spray...

Mak grabbed the small purse off the floor beside the couch and managed to unzip the main pouch with unsteady hands...she reached inside...

Where is it!?

Within seconds she found the pepper spray and whirled around to face the kitchen again, instinctively unlocking the spray cap as she moved. She extended the pressurised container in front of her with both arms, as if she were aiming the business end of a pistol at the kitchen doorway. She had imagined using the spray many times, particularly in the past year, never quite knowing under what conditions she would need it.

Oh G.o.d.

Roy appeared in the doorway.

Roy Blake!

Makedde inhaled sharply. Her heart dropped into the acid of her belly, and her throat seemed to freeze, filling her mouth with a sharp metallic bite.

There was a horrible sense of inevitability in what was happening, and she couldn't place why. It was almost as if she had been expecting this.

Roy was wearing a ski mask, but Makedde was sure it was him. Those large, familiar brown eyes looked straight at her-straight into her. But Roy had no smile for her this time, no chocolates that would split on the ground, no roses, no romantic sentiments. He was not trying to impress her. He was not trying to convince her of anything. He clearly had other ideas.

Roy lunged for her hand as soon as he saw the spray she was holding, but she depressed the b.u.t.ton first, releasing a strong pressurised stream of pepper solution directly into his face. She had been told it would accurately shoot up to fifteen feet, and Roy was well within that range. The problem of course, was the ski mask. With his face largely protected, she had to count on Roy inhaling at the right moment, or his eyes being open when the pepper spray hit.

Negative on both counts.

In an instant he was on her, twisting her arm behind her in a cla.s.sic hold that she had even been taught herself. Despite Makedde's best efforts, the manoeuvre caused her to drop the spray can in an unavoidable physical reflex. She heard it hit the ground and bounce with a tinny sound, and her heart sank.

Roy was behind her, one of her hands was free, the other pinned painfully between them and no longer holding her self-defence spray. He had locked one arm around her neck, his elbow below her chin. His grip was tight. The air smelled strongly of spray and Makedde's eyes began to water. Her nose would soon start to run as well. She wondered how badly Roy had been hit with it, and if it would affect him at all.