East Harlem
November 28, 8.12 p.m.
Mo was standing in a shop front with his suitcase by his side. His coat was buttoned up high to hide his red rollneck. The cops were after him again. He’d seen them around the store and called Benny from a callbox. Benny told him that they wanted to speak to him. They thought he’d murdered someone. Mo hadn’t murdered anyone. He’d only ever loved Lottie. He was terrified. He didn’t dare go home or back to the store. So he had to hide out in an abandoned building for most of the day, but he couldn’t stop himself worrying.
The thought of having no more nights with Lucy was hard. He loved Lucy now. She was warm like a big hound and her skin was soft. She was just about perfect. And now she was up in his dirty little apartment with no one to care for her. It was breaking his heart.
At one time during the evening, Mo walked by the end of his street and saw a cop standing right there, only a few hundred yards from his building and from Lucy James. The fact of the matter was Redtop wasn’t going to be able to visit the girl from the park again for a while — not while the cops had his apartment covered. Lucy would just have to wait until this whole thing had blown over. Then he could go back to see her and give her some yoghurt and fresh fruit. In a couple of weeks or so, he could fetch her.
In the doorway, Mo entertained himself by capturing moths that flew towards the bright shop light. He had caught three already. He liked the sensation of their flapping wings in his hand. It tickled him. Then when he opened his hand and they flew out, it was like he was a magician or something.
He wanted to see Lucy so damn much, though. It meant that he’d have to sleep alone for a few days on a hard stone floor. Mo sat down in the doorway and cried.
Less than half a mile away, Lucy James was tethered to the bed in the disused school building where Mo lived. The effect of the chloroform had worn off and no one was there to give her a fresh lungful. Lucy opened her eyes. The room was not hers. She could smell that straight away. It smelled bad. Very bad. She looked up at the cracked, dirty ceiling. Her limbs felt leaden. They ached. In fact, she ached all over. As consciousness began to piece together her situation, she felt her head throbbing. She looked around, left to right, unable yet to lift herself.
The room was dark and cold. She was lying in a bed. The memory was quick. It came in a flurry, like a door opening on to a wall of water — suddenly everything flooded in. The night in the snow, Seth, the fear, the blow to her head.
She tried to sit upright but her arms and legs were tethered to the bed with restraints like they had in mental hospitals. Someone could be in there with her. She looked about. The room seemed clear. There were two doors, one either side of her. She wasn’t one of life’s copers. She had been spoilt from birth with all kinds of stuff. Daddy and Mummy had spoilt her with toys and gifts when she was little because they never saw her. They both worked so hard. But she had a nice nanny. Then when Daddy and Mummy got their divorce, they both spent all their time spoiling her. So she had never thought about anybody but herself. And she always got what she wanted. And now Lucy was in real trouble and she had no idea what to do.
She prayed first. Tried to think about God and asked him to protect her. Then she began to assess her position. She tried to look under the bedclothes. She could see by her arms and shoulders that she was wearing a nightdress. Across the room, her clothes were lined up all neatly folded. This was so weird, it felt dream-like.
She’d also soiled herself. The smell was coming from her. Jesus, what the hell was going on! Lucy looked about her for something to help her, but there was nothing. Her incapacity was terrifying. She couldn’t even raise her hand to her face. What had her captor done to her? He might have done anything. The white flashes of fear kept washing away her thoughts. It was all too frightening. Even worse, what might he do next?
The man who’d been holding her in this room was clearly deranged, but she didn’t know yet what he wanted from her. She shuddered with the thought and pushed it from her mind. She couldn’t allow herself the luxury of dwelling. She had to do something. She needed a plan. If he came back, should she be nice, or resistant? Which way would save her? She had no idea.
Mummy and Daddy would be going crazy. She had no idea how long she’d been gone for, but even a few hours would freak them out. They’d be in pieces and then they’d start arguing over whose fault it was. She could hear them in her head.
As she lay there, another thought occurred. This was worse. What if he wasn’t going to come back at all? It made her cry as she lay there, the tears welling in her eye sockets and streaming down her face. She couldn’t just lie here and die. She knew nothing about living, let alone dying. But if no one came back… what would happen?
She was already thirsty. How long could a body survive without water? She’d done it in biology. Was it a few days? Something like that. Yeah. There was time. About three days. She could survive. But Christ, what she’d give for a glass of Evian.