Not Dead Enough

had a message.
    BLAM-BLAM-BLAM.
    A splinter of wood flew off the door and a new, deep coil of terror spiralled through her.
    BLAM-BLAM-BLAM.
    More wood splinters and this time the head of the hammer came right through.
    She tried to control her panic-breathing, to stop herself hyperventilating again. WhatcanIdo?PleaseGodwhatcanIdo?
    If she moved, she would have just a few seconds before he shoved the door open. If she stayed put, it would only be a few minutes before he had smashed a hole in the door big enough to get his arms through. Or even climb through.
    Roy!PleaseRoywhereareyouohGodpleaseRoy!
    Another loud bang, more wood splintered away and now there was a hole three or four inches across. And she could see one glass lens pressed up against it. The faint shadow of an eye flickering behind it.
    She thought for an instant she was going to vomit. Images of people flashed through her mind. Her sister, Charlie, her mother, her father, Roy, people she might never see again.
    I am not going to die here.
    There was a sharp crack, like a gunshot. For a moment she thought the man had fired a weapon at her. Then she realized, horrified, what it was. The wood on the right-hand bottom drawer of her dressing table had split and her bare foot had gone through. She withdrew it, then jammed it against the next drawer up. That seemed firm, for a moment. Then the whole thing began collapsing.

    He was really enjoying himself! It was like opening a particularly challenging tin of sardines. One where you got the lid to lift up just a tiny fraction, so you could see the sardines lying there beneath you, tantalizing you, but you couldn’t yet touch or taste them. Though you knew in a few minutes that you would!
    She was feisty! He was staring at her now, her face flushed, eyes bulging, hair all tangled and matted with perspiration. She was going to be great to make love to! Although clearly he was going to have to quieten her down or restrain her first. But not too much.
    He took a couple of steps back, then slammed the sole of his shoe, his solid, metal-tipped and heeled workman’s shoe, against the door three times. It yielded a good inch! The most by far for one attempt! Now he was cooking with gas! The lid was peeling! A few more minutes and she would be in his arms!
    He licked his lips. He could taste her already.
    Not bothering with the hammer any more, he stepped back again and kicked out.
    Then he heard the shrill ring of the front-door bell. He saw the change in the bitch’s expression.
    Don’t worry, I’m not going to answer it! We don’t want anybody to disturb our little love nest, do we?
    He blew her a kiss. Although, of course, she couldn’t see it.

118
    There were windows on either side of Cleo’s front door, but she had vertical venetian blinds carefully adjusted so that she could see out, while it was impossible for anyone to see in. Grace, standing anxiously outside her front door, rang the doorbell for the third time. Then he rapped on a window pane for good measure.
    Why wasn’t she answering?
    He dialled her mobile phone again. After a few seconds he heard it ringing from somewhere on the far side of the door. Downstairs.
    Had she gone out and left her phone behind? Gone to get some food or to an off-licence? He checked his watch. It was nine thirty. Then he stepped back, trying to see if he could spot any movement in one of the upstairs windows. Perhaps she was up on the roof terrace, preparing a barbecue, and couldn’t hear the bell? He took another couple of steps back and collided with a young, shaven-headed man in Lycra shorts and a top, pushing his mountain bike.
    ‘I’m so sorry!’ Grace said.
    ‘No problem!’
    He looked vaguely familiar. ‘You live here, don’t you?’ Grace asked.
    ‘Yep!’ He pointed at a house a few along. ‘Seen you around a few times, too – you’re a friend of Cleo’s, right?’
    ‘Yes. Have you seen her this evening by any chance? She’s expecting me, but she doesn’t seem to be in.’
    The young man nodded. ‘Actually, yeah, I did see her – earlier. She waved at me from an upstairs window.’
    ‘Waved at you?’
    ‘Yeah – I heard a noise and looked up, wondering where it had come from. And I saw her in the window. Just a neighbourly wave thing.’
    ‘What kind of a noise?’
    ‘Sort of a bang. Like a gunshot.’
    Grace stiffened. ‘ Gunshot? ’
    ‘That’s what I thought for a moment. But obviously it wasn’t.’
    Every alarm bell in his