Every Little Breath: A Tense Psychological Thriller Full of Twists

Ten months later

When she awoke she was alone and it took her a moment before she realised where she was, arms and legs frantically fighting against the restraints that held her prisoner on the table in the basement room, the cool damp air clinging to her naked skin.

She tried to scream for help, but the tape pulled tightly across her mouth stopped her from making much noise and the familiar bubble of panic took over, her heart thumping so loudly, the sound filling her ears as it threatened to explode out of her chest.

Calm down. Breathe.

She tried, drawing in fetid air through her nose that was tinged with the scent of her own blood, but it was so hard.

Where was he? She had to get away before he came back, before he took out his knives again.

Recalling how they felt as they sliced through her flesh, she whimpered and pulled uselessly at the cuffs, wincing in pain as they cut into the tender flesh of her wrists and ankles, a sob escaping at the futility of her situation.

Finn was dead.

Ricky had killed him and now he kept Casey a prisoner down here in the bunker basement. No one knew where she was. No one knew she was still alive. She was his plaything, he told her, and he intended to keep her here in this personal hell.

It was her punishment for what she had done to him, for how she had stabbed him repeatedly with the knife after she had knocked him unconscious into the grave. For how she had mutilated him and almost killed him. Death would be too easy for her and he wanted for her to suffer.

No, he had worse plans for her and he intended to keep her here forever.

Although she was in darkness she was aware of the layout of the room, of exactly where he kept each of the toys (his terminology, not hers) that he used to hurt her.

She just wanted it to be over. Knew, though, that he would never allow that. He wanted to see her fear his knives, wanted her to know that she was all alone, wanted her to learn to dread the sound of his footsteps on the stairs.

And as if by thinking about them conjured them up, she heard him now; the hatch door opening, then locking shut, the slow tormenting sound of his boots as they descended the stairs, and she twisted uselessly on the table, thunderous fear raging in her head as she trembled violently, so scared she lost control of her bladder.

He stepped into the room, flicked on the light, and she stared at his pulp of a face, at the gashing wounds in his chest and stomach. He approached the table, white teeth grinning menacingly against the dried blood crusting on his cheeks and chin, and she tried to pull away as he leant over her, giving that exaggerated sniff he was so fond of doing before he tortured her.

‘Your fear is one of my favourite smells,’ he told her, going to the cabinet for his knives.

She screamed in her head as she saw the blade, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to ready herself for the moment it made contact with her skin.

And then the screaming became louder and she was covering her ears, rolling into a ball as the sheets bunched around her.

On the floor beside the bed, Phoebe was whimpering as she always did when Casey awoke from the nightmare. As she came round, realised she was in her own bed, she heard the clipping of toenails on the hard wood floor, saw Bert poke his big furry head round the door, his stuffed bear in his mouth, as he came to check she was okay.

She instructed herself to breathe deeply, annoyed that all this time later a stupid dream could still affect her so badly, leaving her exhausted and terrified.

Roderick Noakes was dead. She had killed him in the woods out near Captain’s Pond. And Steve Noakes was in jail. Neither of them could hurt her.

Glancing at the alarm clock, and seeing that it had just gone 1am, she pulled her sweat-soaked sheets back and then padded from the bedroom, careful to avoid the piled-up boxes of her possessions as she went into the bathroom to pee and get a drink of water.

Tonight was her last night in the apartment and perhaps that was what had brought on the nightmare. She hadn’t suffered with it for a few months, the one-on-one therapy sessions helping, and she had hoped she was finally moving on. Tomorrow was a fresh start away from Kimberley House, away from the memories, some good, others bad.

It was the place where she had reconnected with Finn, but had also encountered Rupert… or rather, Robert Brown as she now knew him.

The idea that the ex-caretaker had been breaking into her apartment and stealing her underwear was just wrong and very creepy. She had been relieved when he had been arrested, knew the locks on all of the apartments had since been changed.

Then, of course, there was that awful night when Ricky had phoned, calling himself Psycho Steven and giving her the ultimatum of driving out to Captain’s Pond or he would kill Amanda Haines, as well as Finn and his family.

That hadn’t worked out so well.

The police investigation had finally ended, concluding that Ricky had been acting alone. He hadn’t had much contact with Steve Noakes over the years, though Steve had readily confirmed he was Roderick’s real father, expressing shock at what he had done.

Steve’s younger son, Ethan, had come forward after Ricky’s death, confessing that he had watched Ricky – or Rod as his family knew him – push Dennis Clarke down the stairs, after a heated row over inheritance, and a picture slowly emerged of a scheming and hate-filled man, who had always enjoyed watching the suffering of others.

Casey recalled plunging the knife into him, knew she had killed a man, but he had hurt so many people and she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

Wide awake, but knowing she had to attempt sleep again, she crawled back between the sheets and tried to get comfortable. After about twenty minutes, her eyes started to drift shut. A clicking of a key twisting in the lock had her opening them again.

It was late when Finn finally let himself into the apartment, both dogs running to the door to greet him, and after making a fuss of them he crept down the hallway to the bedroom, trying to be careful not to wake Casey. He quietly undressed before slipping into bed beside her, certain she was still asleep, but as the mattress dipped, she rolled over to face him and he saw her eyes were open.

‘Late job?’

Finn nodded, resting his head back against the pillow and staring up at the ceiling for a moment. ‘Yeah, it came in half an hour before I was due to finish.’ He rolled on to his side, facing her. ‘How come you’re still awake?’

Casey hesitated. ‘I had the nightmare again.’

She sounded frustrated and he reached out, smoothed her damp hair back off her face. She was still plagued by the dreams, but they were becoming less frequent, and at least she was honest with him now, admitting to what she considered to be her weaknesses and letting him help her where he could.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

‘No… I… It was the same old. In the bunker and he was there.’ She huffed out a sigh. ‘I thought they had stopped.’

‘It’s not even been a year. You’re making progress, but you need to give it a little more time.’

Annoying as it was, that’s what they both needed.

The gunshot wound that could so easily have killed him had taken him ages to recover from and it was only in the last few months that he had been fit enough to return to work. Even now he could still feel it, knew it hampered his mobility. It would take time, the doctors told him, but if he was patient it would get easier.

Casey’s scars were mental, but perhaps more traumatic. She had been trapped inside the bunker where Roderick Noakes had tortured his victims, and Finn couldn’t begin to imagine how terrifying that must have been for her. Unfortunately there was no quick fix, but they had each other and they would get through this together.

He stretched his arm out so Casey could rest her head on it and she moved in closer, seeking comfort. He knew the dream bothered her and wished he could take that worry away.

‘He’s dead, Casey. You killed him.’

And hadn’t she just.

Finn remembered coming to on the forest floor, seeing her in the grave and assuming she was being attacked. He needed to help her, but he was so tired, too weak from the blood loss. He had called out, but it was all he could do. And initially he had scared the shit out of her, causing her to scream out in fright and drop the knife.

What had happened next had been his worst nightmare.

She had been so relieved he was alive, she had momentarily forgotten about Ricky, and Finn had watched as Ricky had regained consciousness, grabbing hold of Casey and pulling her down into the grave. For what felt like long agonising minutes, but was probably only seconds, he had been forced to wait, desperate to help her and almost delirious with relief when she had emerged, the blood-drenched knife in her hand.

She had been so strong, so brave and because of her, Roderick Noakes was dead. He could never hurt another woman.

For Finn, if anything else good had come from that night it was that Casey had finally opened up about her feelings for him. She had been his constant companion while he was in hospital, and he knew she had forged a bond with his parents and sister as they helped him to recover.

If only he had realised getting shot was the way to break her commitment phobia, he would have tried it sooner. He had told that to Casey, but she hadn’t appreciated his joke.

He rubbed his hand up and down her arm now, tried to relax her enough to pull her into sleep. They had a busy day ahead as they were moving out of Kimberley House.

Casey had held on to her independence for as long as possible, refusing to give up her apartment and move in with him, despite the fact they rarely spent a night apart. Eventually Finn had tried a different approach, figuring out what they could afford on their joint income, then bombarding her with links to tempting properties.

She had eventually bitten (who didn’t love a bit of house porn?) and they had bought a recently renovated property in another village location, slightly closer to Norwich. The area they were moving to was more populated and better connected, which was easier for Finn’s work, and it made a more suitable base for Casey. She had quit her deejaying role at East Coast FM, the stress of going back on-air, of taking requests from listeners, outweighing the enjoyment of the job, and she was focusing on her freelance work.

The house came with plenty of space, which would be perfect for her, as well as for Bert and Phoebe, and there were three spare bedrooms too, so it would be ideal for accommodating any family members wanting to stay.

Finn had now met Casey’s parents and brothers, understanding as soon as he got talking to her mother where that feisty independent streak came from, and he was fairly certain that he had passed the suitable boyfriend test.

With summer fast approaching, the large garden would be an ideal haven for both relaxing and entertaining, and the perfect place to heal.

A new home and a fresh start. That was exactly what Casey was thinking as they parked the hire van on the brick-weave drive of the house after collecting the keys.

Set back slightly off the road behind a low hedgerow, the front lawn filled with borders of spring flowers and two pretty blossom trees, she had fallen in love with the place as soon as she had seen it, knew it was the perfect spot to properly start her life with Finn. Although she wasn’t a gardener, she was determined to learn, especially now she didn’t have the radio show taking up so much time, and she already had plans for the enclosed back garden, which was currently a blank canvas, having perused countless gardening websites, gathering ideas for colourful borders and a little vegetable patch. Finn had half listened to her, making all the right noises, though she knew his only sights were set on talking her into a hot tub.

They would negotiate.

Liam, Niamh and both sets of parents were en route with more of their things, but for a moment it was just Casey, Finn, Phoebe and Bert, and as they got out of the van, Casey stared at her new home, daring to hope that she might be able to finally put the nightmare of the last year behind her.

Hearing a vehicle slowing down and assuming it was one of the family, she glanced at the road, shielding her eyes against the bright spring sun. She didn’t recognise the car or the man peering across the passenger seat as he stared at her, but she smiled anyway, assuming he was probably a neighbour, nosing at the newcomers.

Finn joined her by the passenger door, slipping his arm around her waist, pulling her close and distracting her with a kiss, as Phoebe and Bert bounded ahead, keen to check out this new space.

‘This is going to be good for us. Making new memories. You and me, the kids.’

Kids?

He waggled his eyebrows at the dogs when her eyes widened in alarm and she relaxed into him. She wasn’t anti-kids, but they hadn’t even moved into the house yet.

‘It will be good,’ she agreed, seeing her brother’s van pulling into the road. ‘And I like the idea of new memories.’

Finn glanced past her at the van, before leaning in, his mouth grazing her ear. ‘We can start later then by christening all of the rooms.’

Casey fought her smile, playfully nudging him. She wasn’t going to talk about sex as her brother had just shown up. ‘We’ll discuss that later.’

‘We will.’ Finn held out his hand. ‘Are you ready?’

Her new home, the dogs, and the man she loved by her side. She slipped her hand in his, followed him up the path to the front door. ‘I am.’