Secret Daddy(33)

“I’ll hurt you a lot more if you don’t get in the car.”

He pulled me down towards the road. I should have seen his car parked there but I’d been too busy looking at the phone. I thought about screaming for help but then I saw the look in his eyes, the look that had been there when I told him I was leaving. It was an empty look. If I didn’t do what he said, he’d probably kill me, not just hurt me. He wouldn’t feel anything while he did it either, just get rid of a problem that was annoying him, like swatting a fly. “Please,” I muttered as he pulled open the passenger door and shoved me inside. “Please, don’t take me back.”

“You want me to,” he said, climbing in next to me. “Don’t pretend you don’t. You told me you loved me, Donna, remember that? Told me you’d always be there for me. I don’t like people who break their promises. We’ll get home. You’ll take your medicine and then we’ll go to bed. I’ve missed you.”

His hand slid onto my leg as he began to drive and my skin crawled at his touch. I felt like kicking myself. How had I been so stupid, so complacent as to think he wasn’t keeping tabs on me? Someone that controlling would never just let their ex leave, not after everything they’d done.

The first time I left him, he’d cried, begged me to come back, promised he’d never hit me again. I believed him. Idiot that I was. Of course, at first, it was all sweetness and light but soon his temper came back. It was a cliché really. Happened to hundreds if not thousands of other people and I was no one special.

The town vanished behind me as I looked out of the rear window. “I forgive you,” he said, still squeezing my leg. “But you know, you need your medicine, don’t you?”

I kept quiet. He was being unpredictable and it put me on edge. He’d made me take tablets several times while we were together, though he never told me what they were. I only remembered them making me sluggish and sleepy a lot. In the end, I learned to hide them under my tongue, spit them out when he wasn’t looking.

That was how I was able to plan leaving, make sure there were witnesses, stop him being able to keep me there. It took every ounce of strength I had to leave him and it had all been for nothing because I was trapped with him again. There was no getting away. Wherever I went, he’d come after me. My shoulders slumped as I leaned back in my chair, letting his hand go wherever it wanted. I was floating above myself, getting used to the old familiar feeling.

So many if onlys. If only I’d changed my name, not just my bank details. If only I’d been paying attention to where I walked. If only I’d killed him that time when he slept. I’d stood over the bed with a pillow in my hands, hovering above his snoring head. But I’d been unable to do it. I was scared of doing it just as I was scared of him. He knew how to control that fear, make it work for him, he was a master at it. And he’d used that power to get me in the car without so much as a raised voice. I was lost.





TWENTY-SIX



GEORGE

I made a call as I drove. “George,” the voice at the other end said. “It’s been a long time.”

“I need some details about a car.”

“Nice to hear from you too.”

“Just do it, will you.”

“What’s the plate.”

I gave him the details and he grunted. “Give me five minutes. I’ll ring you back.”

The handsfree disconnected. I continued to follow them, wondering what I was getting myself into.

I’d been out for a walk, finding myself near her house again, as if my unconscious knew where it wanted to be. I was at the end of her road when I saw her with another man. She was climbing into a car. Something about it felt wrong, very wrong. I thought at first that it might be jealousy flaring up in me but within seconds I’d dismissed it. The look on the man’s face as he drove past me told me everything I needed to know. He was bad news.

I sprinted home, getting into my car whilst fighting for breath. I raced out of town, my foot to the floor. It took a few minutes to catch them but I sighed with relief as I saw they’d stuck to the main road. Once I caught up, I slowed, falling back, not wanting to raise his suspicion. Who was he? What was he doing with my princess? I was no closer to an answer when Richards rang back.

“Registered to a Darren Guest, 31 West Millfield Road, Reading.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Tell me.”

I listened as he talked, my fingers turning white as I gripped the steering wheel tighter and tighter. “Thanks Richards,” I said when he was done. “You know what to do.”