Page 71 of To Hell With It
Just keep your phone on and text me in an hour.
I could be dead in an hour, Una.
You won’t be dead.
You’d never find my body.
I would, you’d be in the cupboard.
You’d feel bad if I was.
At least you’d have the cat to keep you company. Would you still want to be buried in Drangan? You’d be cut into little bits if she puts you in the cupboard.
Fuck off.
I’ll make sure they change the headstone to Born and Dead in Drangan, Found in a Cupboard.
You’re not even funny.
LOL. Text me in an hour. If you don’t, I’ll know why…
ChapterThirty-Nine
Iactually fell asleep. I don’t know if it was the motion of the van, or the fear, or just the jetlag, but when I opened my eyes we weren’t in Auckland anymore.
We had pulled up and I was staring at what was possibly the most beautiful view that I had ever seen. It was as if the mountains, the ocean and countryside were all rolled into one. Everything was so green, so blue, so clean. Una had texted me asking if I was dead and in the cupboard, but I hadn’t texted back, just to make her think.
‘Where are we?’ I turned to Eve who was tapping her hands on the steering wheel to imaginary music.
‘Te Aroha.’
‘But I’m going to Te Puke.’
‘Don’t panic.’ Eve laughed. ‘I thought you might like to see a cool view before you get there? It’s a mountain. It means The Mountain of Love.’
Eve unclipped her seatbelt and reached down into the side of her door. When she turned around she had a penknife open and she was pointing it straight at me. She was about to kill me. I had always wondered what I would do in this kind of scenario – whether I would freeze or fight. I froze. Una was right, I would be cut into little pieces, in the middle of nowhere and there was no way Una would find me, even if I was in the cupboard.
Eve had a wide grin on her face. She was definitely a serial killer. Were there more victims in the cupboard? More cats?
‘What about your cat?’ I said to distract her.
‘She’s fine.’
‘Won’t she need a wee and some fresh air? Where does she wee by the way?’ I tried to keep Eve talking because that’s what they say, isn’t it: keep your abductor talking, build a rapport so that it makes it harder for them to kill you? And I know it wasn’t like she’d actually abducted me. I’d got into her van willingly, like the fool that I was, but that was all part of her plan, wasn’t it? She’d made me feel safe, like she was helping me. She’d probably been planning it for weeks.
‘Would you like a tea? I’ve got mint or chai? Or coffee?’
She was going to poison me.
‘I’m OK, thanks.’
‘Are you hungry?’
Did she have no shame?
‘Not too bad at the moment.’
I was bloody starving.
