Something is wrong.

Very wrong indeed.

Chapter Eleven

Carly

Then

Leah released another bloodcurdling scream and, before Carly could react, she tore over to the door, rattling the handle with both hands.

‘Come back! Let us out!’

Marie shouted, ‘Stop it, Leah. You’ll make them cross.’

Leah turned to Carly, her eyes wide and disbelieving. ‘They… they’ve left us here.’

‘It’s okay.’ Carly forced out the lie. ‘I’m going to get us out.’

‘How?’ Leah waited for an answer and when she didn’t get one she turned back to the door. Hammering on it with her small fists. ‘Help.’

‘Shh.’ Carly grabbed her wrists. ‘Stop that. Give me a second to think.’

Panic tightened in Carly’s chest, forcing her to draw in deeper breaths. The putrid smell was unbearable. Carly covered her nose with her sleeve while she stalked around the room.

It was small.

Oppressive.

Graffiti scrawled over the walls.

Ten frantic paces long and six paces wide.

One locked door.

One barred window. The tree outside tap-tap-tapping against the metal bars as pain tap-tap-tapped behind Carly’s eyes. She wondered if she had concussion from where she’d banged her head in the van. She’d seen that happen once on Casualty.

What would happen to the twins if she wasn’t here to protect them?

Carly pulled at the bars as hard as she could but they were concreted into place. Oddly they weren’t weatherworn or rusty, but shiny and new. It was a slow dawning. Carly realized with horror that they had been fitted recently, either for them or for someone who had been held here before.

This wasn’t random, it had been planned.

Why?

Had they been kidnapped for a ransom? Her stepdad was always featured in newspaper and magazines with his business. He and Mum were often out at work functions – ‘networking’, he called it. Drumming up business. She didn’t fully understand what he did, despite his patience in explaining it. His clients were all companies with money who paid him to build online campaigns to get the public to contribute to fund the manufacturing of new products. It seemed crazy.

‘Why can’t the companies just pay for their own stuff?’ Carly had asked.

‘Why risk your own money, if someone else is willing to pay? Besides, some of these big names genuinely can’t afford to pay for development in this economy but they can’t admit they’re in the red. If consumers knew there was any sort of risk of the company folding, they’d avoid them like the plague. Too worried about their guarantees being void or not being able to cash in gift vouchers.’

‘So it’s tricking them.’

‘Not tricking them, no. Creating a buzz is a win-win for everyone. The manufacturers get their product launched with minimal risk, and the consumers feel a real part of something. Everyone gets something out of it.’

It was confusing but it paid well. Their house was the nicest in their street. If the men demanded money Carly knew her parents would give it to them. That had to be it, didn’t it? But what if it wasn’t?