Safe as Houses Read online

  40

  Kreuger is leaning forward with his back to Lisa. Mark is in the same position but Lisa recognises him at once. That long, straight back, dark hair, slightly too long neck, hands balled into fists betraying fear as well as anger. Mark is taller than Kreuger, but the long, razor-sharp knife that Kreuger is holding to his throat renders him totally helpless. He’s not in a position to speak. Only Kreuger’s voice is audible, soft and hissing.

  ‘So you’re the bastard who cheated on his wife with this slut here?’

  ‘Don’t do it,’ she hears Mark beg. ‘Please.’

  His plea takes a while to enter Lisa’s stupefied brain. She looks around feverishly. A knife, any weapon, it doesn’t matter what. If she waits any longer that lunatic will do something with the knife.

  ‘Trap shut, prick. I was talking,’ Kreuger snarls. He begins to talk about being faithful and people not being capable of it any more. Lisa doesn’t wait.

  There aren’t any knives. There is only the chair at the kitchen table. Lisa turns around and grabs hold of the chair’s back.

  The kitchen isn’t big, but suddenly the distance that Lisa, the chair clamped in her hands, has to cross is enormous. It is curious how heavy such an unimposing wooden chair can be. Her heart races, and there seems to be so little oxygen in her lungs that she wonders whether she’ll make it as far as Kreuger. Breathing is hard and she pants; any second now he’ll hear her. She realises that she’s hyperventilating. But she has no choice: she has to attack Kreuger with the chair, even if it means that he’ll kill Mark and then her.

  The open doorway is like a portal into unknown, dangerous territory. Just as Lisa is about to announce her presence, Kreuger draws the knife across Mark’s throat. Mark falls to the side, his face towards Lisa. It takes a second before the blood begins to flow, as though his body hasn’t quite understood what’s happened to it. At first just a trickle seeps from the wound, but then the levees burst. As though that’s not enough, Kreuger begins to stab at Mark’s body with terrifying fervour, getting rid of all of his frustrations in one fell swoop.

  Lisa races back and grabs hold of the doorpost. Something in her spills over, coating her body in ice, making each heartbeat reverberate around her head. In a split second, her field of vision is reduced to the section of floor where Mark is lying. He can see her. Not totally conscious, yet aware he’s going to die, he keeps his eyes fixed on hers.

  I love you, they say. Even though I’ve made mistakes, I’ve always loved you.

  I know and I’ve never stopped hoping you’d come to me.

  I’m so sorry. I’m so terribly sorry.

  His eyes become glassy.

  Stay with me, Lisa begs.

  She tries to focus on him, but he drifts away from her in a fog of tears. Her most powerful thoughts aren’t enough to keep him with her, and she knows this is the end. The awareness that any hope of reunion has been sliced away by the stroke of a knife is replaced by the realisation that nothing will ever fill her with such strong feelings again. Simply because she wouldn’t be able to bear it – the intense pain that races through her now is just too great.

  Mark draws three more rasping breaths, and with each gulp of air more and more of Lisa’s nerve endings seem to die, until she is completely numb.

  Mark stares ahead with vacant eyes. Eyes that had admired her, eyes that had winked at her, and cried when she broke off their relationship. Eyes that never stopped looking at her, full of love. Eyes that gave her hope, despite everything else.

  Lisa clings to the doorpost and uses every last resource to keep her grief inside. She sees Kreuger stand up, about to turn around. She takes a step backwards, but the chair is still in the doorway.

  His footsteps set off a flight reflex. Her body is so weak and powerless that she doesn’t stand a chance in a fight with him. She is condemned to die if she goes back into the basement, but she must. Anouk is there.

  The basement door is still open. Lisa runs. Just as Kreuger enters the kitchen, she turns the key in the lock and stays dead still.

  Kreuger’s heaving breathing is clearly audible on the other side of the door. She doesn’t move a muscle. Although it feels like she’s been standing there endlessly, it’s only a few minutes before Kreuger leaves the utility room. She listens to his footsteps. Then she hears him rummaging around in the garage. After a while she hears a thud against the door. For a second she thinks the door will burst open. But then she realises that he is nailing it shut. Wooden planks are slapped up, nails force their way in, the whole house reverberates with the hammering. Anouk lies still on the ground and doesn’t react to any of it.

  Lisa sinks to her knees at the top of the stairs and cries with her face against the door.

  41

  Senta drives slowly. She studies every house that looms up on her left, but each time she knows straightaway it’s not the one she’s looking for.

  And then, to her amazement, she sees it. It’s below the embankment, surrounded by fields. This is the house in her head; she recognises it at once. She was here before she had the accident; it’s the only possible explanation.

  Senta turns off the embankment and drives down a narrow track to the bottom. She stops her car where the road forks, parks as tight to the verge as possible and gets out.

  Nothing moves in or around the house. Looks like she’s unlucky and nobody’s home.

  She walks between the dwarf box hedges and along the gravel path to the front door. An old-fashioned-sounding ring fills the hall when she presses the bell.

  There’s no reply. She presses again and holds her ear to the door, but when the ringing has died away there’s still no sound.

  To the right of the house there’s an extension with a garage door. If she really wants to check that nobody’s home, she’ll have to walk around the house. That’s going a bit far.

  On the other hand, what if the people who live here are busy in the garden and haven’t heard her?

  Senta hesitates for a while, then walks around to the back of the house. A large terrace stretches out in front of her, surrounded by borders full of hydrangeas, phlox, hollyhocks and salvias. Behind them the blades of a windmill slowly revolve. There are a few sheets and a nightdress on the washing line. A sheet has fallen on to the grass, and the contents of the peg basket are strewn about.

  It feels like she’s experienced this before. She looks at the pegs and shakes her head in confusion. Then she goes on to the terrace and starts: there’s a man at the window. His arms are crossed, and his gaze is focused right on her. It’s as though he’s been keeping an eye on her the whole time.

  Intuitively she takes a step backwards, but then the tension is broken by his smile.

  Senta returns his smile hesitantly. The man disappears, reappears in the kitchen and unlocks the door.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ he says with a friendly face, full of expectation.

  ‘Good afternoon. Excuse me for bothering you. I’m sorry if it seems cheeky to have gone round the back, but I wanted to ask you something. It’s important.’

  The man raises his eyebrows and waits, as though she might be able to explain what’s so important in a couple of words. But she doesn’t have much choice if he’s not going to invite her in.

  ‘I was here a few days ago,’ she begins. ‘On Monday afternoon. It was very misty.’

  ‘Yes,’ the man says slowly.

  ‘I got lost,’ Senta continues, ‘and I think I came here to ask for directions. Do you remember seeing me?’

  A frown joins his eyebrows together. ‘Monday afternoon?’

  ‘Maybe there wasn’t anyone home when I called. I can’t remember anything myself, you see. Just after that I had a serious accident. I drove into the water a little further up the road.’ She nods vaguely at the embankment, and the man looks at her with a little more interest.

  ‘I read about it in the paper,’ he says. ‘Was that you?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ve lost my memory of what happen
ed before the accident. But I keep seeing this house in my mind’s eye. That’s why I thought—’

  ‘Come in for a while.’ He holds open the door invitingly, and Senta enters gratefully. There’s an intense smell in the kitchen.

  ‘How kind of you to spare me the time. It’s important that I start to fill in that missing hour, you see. There’s so much I don’t understand . . .’

  He smiles and offers her his hand. ‘I’m Mark.’

  Senta squeezes his hand. ‘Senta.’

  Mark precedes her into the sitting room and gestures at the sofa. ‘Take a seat, Senta.’

  It sounds more like an order than a friendly invitation, but Senta isn’t bothered by this. Some people are gruff, and she’s just happy she’ll get the chance to find out more.

  She sits down. The blinds have been lowered against the setting sun, and the room is bathed in a soft, orange light.

  ‘So you don’t remember me,’ she says.

  ‘No, I wasn’t here on Monday. If you spoke to anyone, it would have been my wife,’ he says as he sits down too.

  ‘Oh, yes, that’s possible, of course.’

  ‘I’ll ask her when she gets home. Or I’ll phone her. I can see it’s important to you.’ He leans forward slightly, his arms on his knees. ‘But you don’t have a single memory of that day?’

  ‘Of that day I do, but not of the hour running up to the accident. I don’t understand what I was doing around here or why I was driving so stupidly fast that I went over the bank. The only thing I can remember is this house. So I decided to return to the scene of the accident and look for the house. That’s why I’m here.’

  Mark nods slowly. ‘I understand. Do you know what – I’ll just go and give my wife a call. Do you have a moment?’

  To Senta’s surprise he goes into the kitchen and closes the door behind him. Another door opens and closes, and then there’s a sound of thumping somewhere further away. In the garage?

  Senta wrinkles her nose a couple of times. The strange smell is in here too.

  She gets up and wanders around the room. What a lovely big house this is. Nicely decorated too, just her taste. She carefully studies the photographs on the dresser. Lots of shots of a small, dark-haired little girl, mostly together with an attractive blonde woman and a man with shoulder-length dark hair.

  A door opens and closes in the kitchen, and Senta quickly sits back down on the sofa. Mark comes in and gives her an apologetic smile. ‘I was doing some DIY in the garage and left my mobile there. I’ve called her, but my wife isn’t answering.’

  ‘Oh,’ Senta says disappointedly.

  ‘I’ll get her to give you a ring, all right?’

  His tone has suddenly changed, as though he can’t quite keep up the polite way they’ve been talking to each other. Something about his bearing – the tight line around his mouth and the tense way he is standing – tells Senta that for one reason or another he’s doing his best to appear friendly.

  Maybe she’d better leave. Just a quick trip to the loo first – she’s got a long journey back. She asks for permission with an apologetic smile, and Mark acquiesces with a curt nod.

  As she’s sitting on the toilet, Senta looks around her. Even this space has been made cosy. On the shelf above the toilet there are scented candles and soaps and even a handmade calendar on the wall, complete with pictures. Senta can’t resist the temptation to turn the pages. On each one is a handwritten line saying where the picture was taken and who it shows.

  Crete. Mark, Anouk and Lisa.

  Senta looks in shock at the photo. She recognises the woman from the pictures on the dresser. She also sees a toddler and a handsome man with longish dark hair, but that isn’t the Mark who is walking around this house. How strange. And the man is acting so oddly. Something’s wrong. She doesn’t know what or why, but something is wrong in this house. And at that moment she remembers why the man looks so familiar. She’s seen him before, on the news – his name is Kreuger, something Kreuger.

  Oh my God! She has to get away quickly!

  She hurries to get up, pulls up her pants and brushes her skirt down over her knees. She’s about to unlock the door when she hears Mark, or Kreuger, or whatever he’s called, coming into the hall. Senta pulls back her hand as though the lock is electrified. Her heart is in her throat. She throws a soap into the toilet bowl, followed by a second shortly afterwards. The splashing sounds, following by the noise of the toilet roll uncoiling, make Mark return to the sitting room.

  Senta quickly shoots the lock and opens the door. Through a chink in the open sitting-room door she can see Mark staring out of the window, his hands in his trouser pockets. She rushes to the front door and pushes down on the handle. It doesn’t give; the door is locked.

  42

  The panic attack courses through Senta, gripping like a tight band around her chest and sweeping a layer of sweat across her forehead. She pants and wheezes. She tries to speak sternly to herself to prevent herself from hyperventilating.

  Calm down, calm down, she thinks. Don’t let him see that you’ve sussed him. If you deal with this in the right way, you’ll be able to walk straight out of here.

  At the same time, she asks herself how she can return to the sitting room. He’ll see in a single glance what kind of a state she’s in. But she can’t stay here either.

  While Senta is pulling herself together, the sitting-room door swings open, and she is shocked to find Kreuger standing there before her.

  She is struck by how effortlessly his name had popped out of her memory. She hadn’t paid that much attention to the news story about his being missing. If she had, she’d know what kind of man she’s dealing with now.

  She rubs her hands on her skirt and looks at Kreuger’s inquisitive face.

  ‘Everything all right?’ he asks.

  Senta smiles weakily. ‘Low insulin levels. I should have eaten something before I left the house. I missed lunch and after a while things start to go wrong.’

  It’s not clear whether he believes her, but he looks at her carefully.

  ‘I really should go, I’m holding you up.’ Her voice sounds uncertain. To hide her fear she turns back to the front door and tugs at the handle. ‘Oh, it’s locked,’ she says fakely. ‘Never mind, I’ll go back out the way I came in. I’ll find it.’

  Kreuger leans against the doorpost and smiles. It’s an odd way of seeing someone out. A voice in Senta’s head screams at her to get out quickly, no time for procrastination. She steps past Kreuger, and their bodies brush briefly. Then she’s in the sitting room and has to restrain herself from running.

  Just do it, she impresses on herself. Just say goodbye normally; otherwise he’ll get suspicious.

  Her heels click on the wooden floor on the way to the kitchen. Halfway there she turns around and says over her shoulder, ‘Thanks for your time. It would be great if your wife could call me.’

  At the same time she realises she hasn’t given him her telephone number, but she pretends not to notice this. Kreuger doesn’t say anything. He stands in the same position, leaning against the doorpost, just watching her broodingly.

  Alarm bells ring in her head. She dashes into the kitchen and throws herself at the back door.

  It’s locked. Panic really hits her then and she begins to scream, to push and pull. She swings the chair next to the kitchen table against the door, but it doesn’t budge.

  It’s too late now, she sees, because Kreuger is with her and has something in his hands that makes her wild with fear.

  In a desperate attempt to defend herself, she brings the chair down on Kreuger, but he brushes away the attack with a single stroke of his hand. Then he grabs the chair from her hands and tosses it to one side.

  An electricity cable hangs in his hand. Senta’s brain refuses to work, completely paralysed, but her instinct for self-preservation is harder to switch off.

  Her muscles in her neck and shoulders tighten, like those of a cornered cat. A primitive urge br
eaks free in her and turns her fear into rage.

  She throws herself at Kreuger with a scream.

  Surprised by her attack, he falls back against the worktop. For a moment he is powerless against the violence of her clawing fingers, scratching nails and rising knee, which pounds into his crotch. Swearing loudly, he sinks down to the ground.

  Senta runs into the sitting room. Her eyes dart around. The doors are locked, so the only place where she can run is upstairs. But she has no idea whether she can get out there, and there’s a serious chance she’ll be trapped. She’ll have to find a weapon.

  The first within hand’s reach is a lamp with a cast iron base. A few seconds later it flies through the window, breaking the glass with a deafening crash. Using another, identical lamp, Senta knocks away as many of the glass shards obstructing her exit as she can.

  Kreuger staggers into the room, and she screams. She holds the lamp base in front of her like a weapon, but this time Kreuger doesn’t let her surprise him. When she raises the lamp to hit him, he grabs her arm and turns it ninety degrees.

  Senta drops the lamp with a cry of pain, and the next instant she feels the cable around her neck. Her hand goes to her throat automatically in an attempt to pull away the noose, but Kreuger just pulls tighter. She is powerless. All she can do is let out a few strangled sounds. Kreuger takes a couple of steps backwards, forcing her to walk backwards too, almost hanging herself.

  ‘Did you really think you’d get out of here alive?’ Kreuger snaps at her. ‘I wanted to do it quickly and painlessly, but perhaps I should take my time.’

  The pressure and pain are almost unbearable. Senta’s eyes bulge, shockwaves pulse through her body, and flashes of light shoot through her field of vision.

  She has felt like this before and said farewell to life. The memory of that feeling suddenly comes back to her in a flash. If she’d had a LifeHammer it would never have come to that. She would have been able to smash the window and swim away from her car.

  Bright colours and strange forms appear behind her eyelids, among them a LifeHammer picked out in blazing fluorescent yellow.