But she knew it was more than that. She wanted to do this for Derreck, to make him happy, to make his startling blue eyes shine.
Stace walked over to the bed and picked up one of the ornaments, turning it over in her hand. Was she being na?ve? Was this more than just a couple of Buddhas? She examined the head for signs that it had been stuffed with something, like money or drugs. But the lines were smooth: no plugs or holes. They felt weighty in her hands too, good quality. Solid wood. ‘I’d be willing to take one or two but no more.’ She could feel Derreck’s eyes on her as she sat on the edge of the bed with the heavy object in her hands. She experienced a little thrill when his whole face lit up.
‘That’s great,’ he said, rushing over to her and pulling her into a hug. It was awkward because she was sitting down, but being so near to him was intoxicating. He smelt of lemon-scented laundry and summer days, chlorine and coconut oil, and her stomach swooped. She laughed to hide her embarrassment and desire, pushing him playfully away. ‘All right. I’m only doing it for the money.’ Even though she knew it wasn’t strictly true.
Derreck laughed too, then straightened, turning to John-Paul. ‘JP? What about you?’
‘If Stace is okay with it then why not?’ he said miserably. ‘But we’ll only take one each. If we take any more it’ll be harder to play the innocent tourist card if we’re caught.’
The elation Derreck had exhibited only moments before ebbed away, like the sand running out of a timer. ‘Ah, well, actually that’s a bit problematic. My mate will pay well but only if they’re all taken back to England. All eight of them. They’re worth quite a bit of money but not enough on their own to make it worthwhile. So …’ He eyed the door where Griff, Trevor and Martin had made a hasty exit. ‘You’ll need to convince your mates. If you all take one each there’s a lot of money in it. They might not look much, but these ornaments are antique – my mate’s contact back in the UK is willing to pay big bucks for them.’
And that was when Stace’s suspicions were confirmed. This was the reason they had been invited on this trip. Eight friends. Eight Buddhas. Job done.
34
Olivia
Olivia’s head is groggy. She can’t work out where she is and why she’s so cold. The air smells of wet soil and something else, a kind of incense. Like someone has been burning joss sticks. Has she stumbled on some kind of ritual? Dampness seeps through her jodhpurs and her back is resting against something hard. She’s sitting on grass. She blinks as her eyes adjust to the darkness surrounding her and it dawns on her where she is. She’s at the standing stones. What is she doing here? The last thing she remembers is walking home alone. She knows she had a bit to drink at Jenna’s but not enough to black out. So how has she ended up here?
She struggles to her feet, holding on to the large stone she’s been slumped against. She can just about see the reassuring glow of the lampposts in the high street up ahead although the Christmas lights have been switched off. It must be late. An icy shard pierces her heart. She remembers being afraid. That someone was following her. A hand on her shoulder, the scream stuck in her throat. She spins around, suddenly terrified. Is that person here now? Did they bring her here to … What? Abduct her? Murder her? Use her as a sacrifice? She needs to get away. She needs to get out of this field right now. She stumbles forwards. Her head is still woozy but she tries to run as best she can, slipping on the wet grass, her boots heavy, slowing her down. She’s always hated this place – the eerie atmosphere. She darts between the stones: she half expects someone to leap out from behind one. There is no clear path out of this field and the darkness makes her feel disoriented. She focuses on the streetlights ahead. She just needs to get herself over the stile and then she’ll be out of here. She just needs to …
And then she sees him. Blocking her path. A figure, tall, hooded. Just like that night. He’s come back, this phantom, this ghoul, to take her this time. She screams and falls to her knees. No, no, this can’t be happening. She hangs her head, covering her ears with her hands. No, no, no, no.
‘Olivia?’
His hands are on her shoulders, heavy as though he’s trying to push her into the ground, into the soil, to bury her.
She keeps screaming, and struggling.
‘Olivia. Stop. Stop. It’s me. It’s me.’
She recognizes the voice and stops thrashing around. She lifts her head. A man is staring down at her, familiar hazel eyes, messy hair. It’s Dale. Why is he here? Has he been following her since he dropped her off? She moves away from him. Was he the one who brought her here?
‘Leave me alone,’ she cries. She doesn’t trust him. She knows he’s a policeman but he lied to Jenna about Tamzin. And she’s watched Line of Duty. She knows not all policemen are good people.
‘Let me help you up,’ he says, coming towards her, but she inches backwards on her heels. ‘Olivia, I’m not going to hurt you. Please trust me.’ He holds out a hand but she doesn’t take it. ‘I was driving through the high street and I saw you – well, obviously I didn’t know it was you. I could just see someone stumbling about. It was your bright coat. Look, my car is just there, on the other side of the stile.’
She stares at him, still confused. ‘What time is it?’
‘It’s nearly a quarter to ten.’
How has she lost the last two hours? She feels frightened and starts to shake, blinking back tears. ‘I don’t know how I got here,’ she mumbles. ‘I was walking home after you dropped me off and someone was following me and then the next thing I know I wake up here.’
He retracts his hand and offers his arm instead. She wavers. Can she trust him? She has no choice right now. So she takes it and allows him to help her over the stile and out onto the road. ‘I should have made sure to drop you home. You said you were going to Wesley’s. What happened? Did you have a row?’
She shakes her head. The movement hurts. ‘No, I changed my mind at the last minute.’ Wesley. She should have gone to see him after Dale dropped her off. She was stupid to be walking home alone, tonight of all nights. The lights in his flat are still on. Suddenly she wants nothing more than to be with him. To be with someone reassuring, whom she trusts. Dale might be helping her now but she certainly doesn’t trust him.
He lets her climb over the stile first and as soon as her feet touch the pavement she crosses the road and heads for Wesley’s flat without waiting for him. ‘Olivia?’ he calls, crossing the road after her, confusion in his voice.
‘I’ll be fine now, thanks, Dale,’ she replies, banging on Wesley’s front door. Dale stands on the pavement a hundred yards away, hands on his hips, watching her.
Wesley answers the door, reeling in surprise when he sees it’s her. ‘Liv? What are you doing here?’ He glances past her to Dale and then back at her, his eyes searching her face. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Can I come in?’
‘Of course.’ He widens the door and she experiences such a rush of relief to be in familiar surroundings that she feels weak. She collapses on the bottom step of his stairs. He shuts the door and turns to look at her. ‘My God, are you okay?’